“We signed a contract. I can’t just get you out of it,” Beau says, impatient as he should be. This is going to cause him a shit-ton more work.
“Then get me a better lawyer. I’ll pay, do whatever you need to, but I can’t be on this ranch. It’s not fair?—”
“To whom?” Beau asks as we walk up the stairs toward my room.
Lucky me, I got the honeymoon suite with a Jacuzzi tub and a walk-in shower big enough for five. Because there’s nothing like sleeping solo in a suite built for two people in love as a reminder of what the rest of your life will look like.
I scan my keycard, and the door unlocks.
The door shuts behind Beau, and he leans his back on it as if he’s DeSoto and afraid I’m going to make a run for it, and he’ll have to tackle me to the ground. I pick up my suitcase from the corner of the room and throw it on the luggage holder to pack my bag.
“Have you thought this could be a sign?” he asks.
I glance at him. Beau is my best friend. A fellow foster kid who got his shit together a lot sooner than I did. Although he hasn’t ventured onto a path of love or family, he’s had healthy relationships in his past. He never cheats, goes on actual dates, and tries—tries to find his one.
How did we both come from such fucked up childhoods, yet he can be so centered? I’ll never understand. Maybe it was always meant to be this way.
Beau looks like a teenager’s heartthrob with his golden-blond hair, blue eyes, pressed slacks, and shoes that cost more than some people’s mortgage payments. Even on a ranch, he’s dressed as if he’s on his way to a board meeting.
Whereas I’m the darker half of our duo with dark hair, dark eyes, and a beard that I keep because I feel like it hides a part of me from people. If Beau is the angel on someone’s shoulder, I’m the devil feeding them bad ideas.
“Give me a break.” I unzip the suitcase and splay it open.
He drops onto the couch, forearms resting on his thighs. “Zan, you can’t just run away from this. We signed a contract. We guaranteed them money.”
“I don’t give a shit. I don’t want to film the video here. It didn’t feel right the minute we drove onto the property.”
Lies, all of it, and Beau probably knows it. He just won’t call me out on my shit. Yet. The truth? The second I pulled onto this ranch, looked up the hill at the rehabbed barn, I swear something cracked in my chest. As if I’d been here before. There was something familiar about it, but I had no idea it was because it’s where the one woman who scares me the most was raised. That changes everything.
Beau stands. “Fine. I’ll go to Scarlett and see what I can do. But you need to know, you can’t keep living this way. One day, you need to deal with your demons?—”
“Do you like your Ferrari?” I toss my T-shirts in the suitcase. “How about your mansion?” My pants go in next. “All the expendable cash… the vacations?”
He crosses his arms and glares at me.
“That can all go away. We both know what it’s like to be piss poor, and I sure as hell don’t ever want to be there again. Do you?”
“Of course not, but?—”
“I don’t need a lecture right now, Beau. What I need is to get the fuck off this property. You’re my manager, so make it fucking happen.”
I’m not even sure why I’m this pissed, but it’s as if every speck of dirt on this ranch is choking me. All I want to do is seek Romy out, kiss her, touch her, make it all okay now that I know she’s nearby. Which is exactly why I need to get the hell out of here. Because I’ll only end up hurting her again.
He holds up his hands. “Fine. You’ll have to pay them at the very least. They’ve closed the entire ranch for us.” His eyes flash with concern. He’s always thinking of other people before himself. He’s like my conscience.
Some of the heat in my temper dissipates. “I’m sorry to have you do it. Pay them whatever you think is fair. I obviously?—”
“I know. I’ll handle it.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, meeting my gaze. “I’m not gonna bother giving you advice, but did you ever think this might be just the place for you to find some peace? To get away from it all? We’ve got security at every entrance. Everything you need is here. Maybe… maybe you need this… for you.” He smacks his hand on my chest.
“I don’t need peace. I need to get this video going. It’s my directorial debut, and this song has the potential to reach new heights, even for me. After the single, I need to record an album to go along with it.”
“This might be a good place to find some inspiration.” His eyebrows waggle like a smart-ass.
“Or kill it. I can’t risk that. There’s another ranch we can use somewhere. Find it.”
“There’s one down the road. It’d save on expenses. Trucks wouldn’t have to go far. We already have everything set up to come to the area, and this way, no airline changes or rerouting.” He pulls out his phone, finally on board with me.
There. Even he gets it. I need space from Romy if I’m gonna make this album work. If I stay, every lyric I write will bleed with heartbreak.
