It hadn’t worked like that, obviously. I’d felt like shit almost immediately, because when Rafe hurt, I hurt, and I didn’t know how to stop that from happening.
I still looked for Rafe’s damn face in every crowd I played for. And I hated him for that nearly as much as I loved him.
My phone rang, and I scrambled for it eagerly, sitting halfway up in the bed. “Aim?”
“Guess again.”
I deflated slightly as I recognized my friend Oak’s deep voice.
Oak had been the security detail Debbie had insisted on during that first tour three years ago, whenJaydhad been barely more than a figment of her imagination and I’d played at any venue that would have me.
Back then, in the aftermath of Aimee and Rafe’s wedding, when I’d swan dived into a puddle of self-pity and wallowed in it, the only thing I’d needed protection from was myself, and I could barely afford to comp the man’s drinks, let alone pay him a decent salary. But Oak hadn’t needed the money. He’d stepped up as a friend, even though I’d had nothing to offer him, and I loved him for it.
Now he was still on the very, very short list of people I trusted implicitly, especially when it came to anything security related. I’d gotten used to a life where anyone who claimed to care about me had an ulterior motive, but the only time Oak held out a hand was when he tried to help me up.
“Did you find Aimee?” I demanded, getting to the point immediately.
I’d forgotten Oak was allergic tothe point.
“Do you need me to repeat my lecture about checking your caller ID before answering the phone?” Oak rumbled. “Because you’d think, as a person who very recently got his ass outed by the damn paparazzi, you’d have slightly more situational awareness. I could’ve been anyone from the media, man. Hell, I could have been your agent. The wild turkeys that try to attack my mom’s lawn ornaments have more sense than you.”
I sighed, sank back down against the mattress, and unwrapped one of the five hundred honey candies I always carried on my person.
“I knew you weren’t Debbie because she already called. I’m refusing to do interviews about the tabloid story, and I’m feeling like it’s a matter of time until she drops me.”
“Aren’t you a little ray of sunshine?”
I snorted. “I try.”
“Try harder,” he advised. “Things are gonna look up, Jay! Watch and see. This time next week, you won’t even remember what you were so sad about.”
“You think?” I demanded. “Really? You think I won’t remember that my sister moved out of the apartment I’m renting her without telling me, or that I was outed by tabloid assholes, or that my career was hanging by its fingernails since I can’t write a fucking song to save my soul?”
“Sure! You’ll get invited to Iron Pipes,” Oak said with the confidence of someone who had no idea how the music industry worked. “Then, Debbie’ll suddenly recall you’re her bestest and most favorite client, and she might actually show an emotion for the first time since Botox was invented. You’ll get inspired to write again—it’ll be great.”
“You’re adorable. Iron Pipes is next weekend, and I’ve already got a show scheduled. Besides, if they didn’t invite me before the tabloid stuff, they’re not gonna do it now.” No matter what Debbie said.
Because I wasnotmaking a public statement about being gay, nor would I lie and claim I wasn’t, and that was final.
“So can we get to the part where you tell me what you learned about Aimee yet?”
“Jeez. Right down to business, huh? No ‘Hey, Oak, what’s going on in your life? Let’s chat aboutyourfeelings.’”
I remained silent, and Oak finally caved. “Okay, okay. I found her. Obviously.”
“Holy shit.” I sat up straight. “Why didn’t youleadwith that, man? Jesus Christ. Where is she?Howis she?”
“Your lack of faith in me is troubling. And from what I can see, she’s fine—”
“Fine?” No. If she were fine, she’d be here, or she’d have told me where she was. I was sure of it. “Where is she? I need to talk to her.”
“Jay.” Oak hesitated. “If a person is sad or bored and wants to leave her old life behind, she should be allowed to do that, even if she’s your beloved baby sister. That’s one of my hard limits.”
“But she wouldn’t,” I argued, conveniently ignoring all the evidence that shehad. “Or if she did, it’s only because she’s upset at me, and I need to find her so I can apologize. Please, Oak.”
He sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you this much, since I got this info from combing through her Instagram account, which means it’s practically public knowledge: she’s been spending a lot of time in Larindosa, Wyoming.”
“Wyoming,” I repeated dumbly. “What the heck could she be doing there?”
