Because there were a hundred, a thousand, girls ready to take my place. Girls who looked the part. Girls who sang at church, who sang at school, who took every opportunity to get onstage and follow their dreams.
“You’d be amazing,” I said honestly. “You’re so pretty and talented. Sometimes I feel like an impostor.”
“Don’t be silly. You sound real good.” She met my gaze in the mirror, her eyes dark with knowledge. “And at least you’ll never be fat.”
I was never comfortable eating in public. But I was grateful that on my sister Jo’s big day I didn’t throw up and ruin my dress. Or anyone’s shoes. Or her wedding.
Colt was pleased. “Told you the break would do you good,” he said when we got back to the farm. He followed me heavily up the stairs to the little back bedroom I used to share with Amy.
“You can’t sleephere,” I whispered. “My parents’ room is right across the hall.”
“So?”
“My father is a minister.”
“He got a gun?”
“No. Anyway, he’s at my aunt’s. He and Mom are separated,” I reminded him.
“They looked pretty tight to me.”
When they were dancing. They’d looked so good together. Like they used to. “Thanks to you.”
“You, too.” He touched my neck. “You sounded good tonight, angel.”
I pressed my cheek into his palm, leaning into his approval. He dropped his hand to my breast.
I jolted. “My mother...”
“Can’t see us.”
“She might hear us.”
He grinned, amused. “Didn’t you used to sneak boys up to your room when you were a teenager?”
“I was a slow starter.”
Now, there was an understatement. Even after I started noticing boys, I liked the ones who looked most like me, thin and smooth. Nonthreatening. Sexless.
Colt rubbed my breast lazily through the lace of my dress. “Angel, I didn’t leave the tour to sleep alone tonight.”
“No, of course not.”
“You want me to go?”
Once again, I felt control slipping away. “No.”
“So what do you want?”
The pretty blue lace chafed my skin. What did I want?
“Stay,” I said.
The gray morning light crept around the edges of the blinds, stealing across the patterned rug and my teddy bear on the floor. I drew a careful breath, raising my head to check on Colt. Asleep. He always slept, after, his body heavy, his face relaxed while I lay still, my mind and heart racing erratically.
Shivering, I eased out of bed, pulling on sweatpants and a sports bra under my sleep shirt before I snuck from the room. I sat on the front porch to tie my running shoes. I ran every morning, even on tour, six or seven miles. Arenas, parking lots... The route didn’t matter as long as I was burning calories.
But it felt good to be home, on familiar roads.
