“Who invited Garth Brooks to dinner? Cause thunders rollin’ across all y’all’s faces,” Grandma Jo greets us as we storm into her kitchen. Her cheery disposition disappears when her ridiculous play on words doesn’t even garner a single chuckle. “All right, who died?” Eyeing us, she sets down the Dutch oven in her hands on the kitchen island with aclunkand removes her oven mitts. “Last time I saw y’all lookin’ like that, trouble followed.”
I lock eyes with Kade, inviting him to get the ball rolling.
Broadening his shoulders, my brother crosses his arms over his chest. “When were you going to tell me I might be fucking my sister?”
With a sly curl to her lips, she rattles the drawer that holds the infamous wooden spoon before whipping it out and waving it at him. “Calm down, you’re never too old for me to whack your backside, boy. Besides, you’re makin’ that pretty thing behind you blush.” She sets the spoon on the counter, unfazed, then proceeds to the sink to rinse her hands like nothing is amiss. When she’s done,she grabs a dish towel and dries off before tossing it at Kade. “This is my house. You’d do well to remember that.” Her eyes flick to me. “I think you’d better sit down. All of you.”
Once we’re gathered around the kitchen table, she takes her usual seat at the head. “Tell me what you think you know.”
We spend the next ten minutes explaining the discovery Sage and I made earlier today, and once we’re done, I slide the photograph we found across the table. Her gaze flicks between me and Sage.
It should have been more obvious to me all along. There were signs. Big, flashing neon signs. The strained relationship I had with my father. I’m the only Rivers allowed on the Everett ranch. Ridge chose me out of all the other veterinary apprentice candidates when he supposedly hated my family. The fact that Jonah always felt like more than a friend. And now that I’ve had a chance to get to know her, why I feel so protective of Sage. It was all there. A blind man could see it.
The realization shudders through me, rattling my foundation and the very core of who I’ve always thought I was. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t confirm nor deny, but she pushes from her chair, walking over to a cabinet. Reaching for a blue box on the top shelf, she rifles through the contents before pulling out a piece of paper. “I’ve held onto thisfor a long time, never knowing whether I should show it to you or not. Just remember, you’ll always be my grandbaby. A piece of paper doesn’t change what’s in here,” she reassures me softly, pointing at her heart.
I can’t even look at Sage or Kade to acknowledge their reaction to this news. With shaky hands, I reach for the document and solidify what I already know. My eyes flick down to what I presume is my original birth certificate––one I haven’t seen before. There in bold black letters is the only proof I need: My name is not Rhett… it’s Everett Jameson Rivers. Everett, as in Ridge Everett. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
NOAH
14
Reflections are not alwaysan accurate representation of reality. Sometimes, they are nothing more than a façade designed to create the illusion of happiness. Lies in an aluminum pane, polished to convince the world I’m unbreakable.
The lights along the mirror burn hot, a row of miniature suns glaring into my face until my skin glows like lacquer and my smile looks almost human.Almost.
It doesn’t matter how long I sit and stare at myself in the dressing room vanity; gone is the girl who dreamed of stage lights and roaring crowds, and in her place is a wounded bird trapped in a cage of forged steel.
Will I ever recognize the person staring back at me? Pretty as a poster, all shimmer and artifice.
Sure, the eyes are mine, but they’re rimmed in fatiguethat concealer can’t mute. A billboard smile masks my true state, teeth too bright and lips too red.
What people don’t see is that this version of me is held together by makeup and glamour. A superstar who’s a far cry from the Noah Lane I once knew.
My eyes squeeze tight, and I swallow back the lump of regret forming in my throat. Drawing a breath through my nose, I desperately try to find my center, but it’s no use. Cracks have formed in my showgirl disguise, and they’ve only grown wider since returning from Black River to living in hell with Bradley.
My time back home reminded me of the girl I once was, young, wild, carefree.God, I fucking miss her.
Blinking back my unshed tears, I find my reflection once more. “Pack it away, Noah. Tonight is your big night.” I watch as my shoulders rise and fall. “Now is not the time for regrets.”
The lie I’m living is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. It’s been less than a week since I returned to Los Angeles, and all I can think about is how I never should’ve come back here. The weight of everything I once gave up sits heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I had a love most people never get to experience, and I tossed it aside, and now I live with the reminder of what I lost every fucking day. Staying away from Rhett was easier in my absence, but once I saw him again all those feelings I’d buried came rushing to the surface.
Hell, if I’d known the price I’d pay for fame, younger me would’ve made better fucking choices.
A deep sigh turns my bones to mush. How much longer can I pretend I’m okay? How much longer can the armor I dress in hide the reality of what’s underneath the surface—a shell of the woman I once was.
The fringe hemming my black leather dress slides against my arms and thighs like metaphorical chains disguised as sparkle. My knee-high snakeskin boots feature ornate silver spurs that match the turquoise rings stacked on my fingers, and a bolo choker dips down to my collarbone like an arrow pointing to the place where my heart used to lie.Before I left it, bruised and broken, in the hands of a rugged rancher.
From a distance, I’m picture perfect—a country star in her prime. Up close, a different tale is told. There’s no concealing the tremor in my hands as I press them to my thighs, the rise and fall of my chest, the fake smile plastered across lips that haven’t spoken any truth in months. Closing my eyes once more, I breathe in the illusion, hoping like hell I can keep it in place long enough to get through tonight.
The sound of the crowd leaks through the walls, a low roar of anticipation. It should thrill me. It used to. But tonight, it feels like the ocean building on the other side of a dam.
The dressing room door opens without a knock, and my chest hitches. I don’t need to turn around. I can feel the shift in the air, the gravity of him filling the room.
Long seconds tick by, heightened by the watch somewhere under his cuff that beats like a metronome. As always, Bradley allows the quiet to take the opening act, letting it climb into my lungs and settle until it completely unnerves me.
Stepping closer, he cages me in by placing his hands on the vanity table on either side of me. His eyes latch onto mine through the reflection of the mirror as he lowers his mouth to my ear. “My girl.” His condescending tone slithers against the back of my neck. He doesn’t touch me yet. He doesn’t have to. “Our big night.”
