Ivy hadn’t realized a camera crew was following her. When she arrived at the private area and broke down, a camera captured every tear and sob. Then someone she didn’t know asked her questions—intrusive ones that made her cry harder. No one had mentioned she had the option not to be interviewed while she was falling apart, so she answered as best as she could between tears. More than once, she’d needed time to pull herself together.
The televised segment went viral. Memes and gifs circulated online.
She’d been a girl who’d had her dream torn apart, but only a few kind-hearted souls focused on that. The rest of the responses had been brutal. Nameless faceless people ripped her to shreds. Not only her singing but her. From the way she looked to how she dressed.
Opinions formed with no basis in reality. Strangers cast votes saying her crying was better than her singing. One poll asked what her future held—most chose unmarried and knocked up by age nineteen. The second highest choice had been a drug addict and prostitute. The third was a victim of suicide.
Ivy still couldn’t believe how mean people could be behind the anonymity of the internet. That was why she texted but stayed off social media. To this day, she had no idea if people from Quinn Valley had joined in the melee. She tried not to think about that.
It had been the second most horrible incident in her life. The first was losing her dad only three months before the audition. She’d needed him when she returned to Quinn Valley, and knowing he wasn’t there had intensified her grief.
As she entered the kitchen, tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision.
Stop.
Do not cry.
Ivy had wasted too many tears ten years ago. She blinked to keep the tears at bay.
She ignored the others working and dumped the plates, not taking the time to separate the silverware. She needed a minute. Or sixty.
Her rushed breathing matched her pulse. Her anger spiraled.
Not only at Nash Bennett.
Ivy hated being caught off guard. Someone should have told her. Not let her be blindsided by Nash Bennett.
A superstar like him would only stay at one place in town—the hotel. Her uncle Bob owned it, and several of Ivy’s cousins worked there. Yet, no one had warned her.
That…hurt.
After wiping her hands on the front of her apron, she grabbed her cell phone from her locker and headed outside without saying a word. She couldn’t wait until after her shift to call. It would be too late.
Even at this hour, her cousin Roxane, who handled events at the hotel and was pregnant with her first baby, would likely be home in bed. But someone Ivy knew was likely working. She pulled up the number from her contacts and hitcall.
One ring. Two…
“Quinn’s Hotel,” her uncle Bob answered. “How may I help you?”
Ivy’s concerns about herself disappeared. Her uncle had experienced a heart issue last fall. He was doing better, but that didn’t keep her from worrying he would suffer the same fate as her dad. “It’s late. Why are you still at work?”
“Rachel couldn’t be here tonight, and others were busy. Someone needed to work swing shift. I’ll be off in an hour.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. I’m feeling fine.” His voice was strong and healthy. No sign of tiredness or lack of energy. “Why are you calling so late?”
Ivy gripped her cell phone. “Why didn’t you tell mehewas in town?”
A beat passed. And another. “I couldn’t. His people made us—me, Travis, and a few others at the hotel—sign NDAs. He’s trying to keep his whereabouts a secret.”
“That explains his beard, sunglasses, and beanie,” she said flippantly.
“This is serious, Ivy.” Uncle Bob’s tone turned no-nonsense. “If we say anything and the public finds out, he could sue us. I know you have issues with him—”
“How I feel abouthimisn’t because of issues. The guy is a jerk.” She hated everything about Nash Bennett, but if she said that, her uncle would give her a lecture about hatred as her mom had in the past.
“You don’t really know him,” her uncle said.
