She said nothing.
Her shoulders hunched. She swayed to the right. It appeared as if she might collapse to the floor. Only she didn’t.
“Thank you,” she muttered, so soft the microphone barely picked up the words, and then ran out of the room, leaving the judges with stunned expressions.
“Guess she’s taking your advice, Nash,” the third judge joked.
All three of them laughed.
At Ivy’s expense.
Nash slumped.
Another camera cut showed Ivy leaving through the double doors to a waiting Lance, who touched her shoulder. Huge tears streamed down her cheeks.
Nash swallowed around the lump in his throat. He’d made her cry. He doubted she was the first singer who had cried that day because of him.
Why hadn’t one of the show’s producers or staff told him to dial back his critiques? Be nicer? Or given the judges information about the person auditioning?
How many others were grieving like Ivy or had a sick relative at home or a difficult home situation? The viewers likely knew, but he’d been clueless.
Would he have softened his critiques with that information?
Definitely.
Which was probably why they hadn’t provided it.
Following a fade-to-black cut, the video showed Ivy standing in front of the show’s banner. She kept dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
“How are you feeling right now?” a woman asked her.
Nash didn’t recognize the voice. Must be an assistant.
“Like my dad just died all over again.” Ivy’s voice cracked.
Nash pressed his hands against his face, but he kept watching. He needed to see this through even though it was tearing him apart.
More tears fell. Ivy wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I came to this audition for him. But I never thought I’d hear my favorite singer in the world tell me to go home.”
“You’re a fan of Nash Bennett.”
“Was.” Ivy appeared to be struggling to breathe. “Not any longer.”
Nash’s vision blurred. He blinked and then rubbed his eyes.
He didn’t blame her for saying that. No wonder she hated him. He hated himself.
“What are you going to do next?” the woman asked.
Ivy’s shoulders sagged. She appeared ready to crumple.
Nash stiffened. She’d needed a hug. Why hadn’t anyone hugged that poor girl who was alone and struggling?
She sniffled. “I’m going home where I belong.”
“What about singing?”
Ivy’s defeated expression stabbed his heart. He wanted to close his eyes, but he forced himself to keep watching. However painful this was to him, Ivy had been hurting worse.
