“You okay, Dani?”
“I’m fine. Just post-show letdown and this stupid knee really hurts,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand, then climbs into her bunk and yanks the blackout curtain closed.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” I say and smile at her muffledthank youas my overhead light flickers. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, seeing as I reported the flicker weeks ago and no one’s had time to fix it yet. But after the strobing, flashing, swooping lights in the stadium, it’s only adding to the chaos in my head. I roll onto my side and scroll through photos I took to send to my parents, to Stella and Gabby, to Nash. There’s a video of me, all smiles and excitement, giving them a tour of the stage and the stadium before dress rehearsal. It was only a few hours ago but feels like another life. A different me.
Now, my muscles ache. My soul feels tired. My heart’s heavy and empty and for no reason at all I find myself fighting tears. I’m surrounded by people and have never felt so alone.
No.
That’s not true.
I felt this alone in Los Angeles, I just didn’t recognize it at the time. I hadn’t had those glorious weeks in the Nash bubble yet. I hadn’t learned what it felt like to be seen. Wanted. Sought after. In Stillwater Bay, I was a person. A friend. A daughter. A lover. On the Sandro René tour? I’m a commodity. A competitor. A nameless face in a sea of nameless faces.
But this is what I wanted. This is what I fought so hard for. I’m living the dream…
Right?
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Nash
Cal frowns when I walk into the Brass Lantern. “Everything all right?”
It’s a simple question, just three little words, and it’s so out of character it stops me in my tracks. No jokes. No sarcasm. No world-wise, slightly mysterious statement as he reaches for my favorite whiskey.
Cal looks genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine,” I say, recovering my composure and perching on a stool at the bar. “Why?”
“I’ve known you a long time, Nash Kincaid. The only time I’ve seen you look like this is when your father died.”
That brings me pause. “I assure you; I’m fine.”
“You can say it all you want. Don’t make it true.” Cal reaches for the whiskey, a question in his brow.
What am I supposed to say? I miss Lucy? I hate mynew job? I took the damn thing to build a life she could slip into when she came home, and now, go figure, we barely have time to talk.
None of that’s coming out.
Not tonight.
Not in public.
Not when focusing on the bad is only going to make it feel worse.
I watch Cal pour my drink, then take the glass when he offers it. “New job’s taking longer to adjust to than I expected,” I say, rather than sit in silence.
“You can’t bluff a bluffer, friend.” The grizzled bartender crosses his meaty arms and levels me with a look that makes me squirm.
Me. Nash Kincaid. The man nurses and interns whisper about in terror. Squirming.
“Who’s doing what now?” Bennett asks as he appears beside me, leaning on the bar with a grin so big, it’s like he’s never seen a bad day in his life. And, thinking about it, that might be true for Bennett Kincaid. Lucky bastard.
Cal jerks his chin my way and Bennett meets my gaze, then frowns. “Woah. Everything okay?” he asks, sounding every bit as concerned as Cal did moments ago.
“Says he’s fine.”
“I’ve seen fine.” Bennett gestures my way. “That is not fine.”
