Another sigh tumbled out of my chest. “I don’t know. Part of me does but the other part, the realistic, business-centric side of me, knows that it would make work ten times harder if I lived in Phoebe instead of Nashville.”
Van nodded. “I know you’re career is important to you. And I say this as the latest person employed by you, but you have to do what you think is bestfor you. You’re a big star now, Alistair. You know you could fly anyone from the studio out or fly yourself back to Nashville if you wanted to. Just because it seems difficult doesn’t mean it isn’t the best thing for you.”
Tears danced behind my eyes at Van’s words. No one in my life had ever said something so…simple yet perfectly sound in the way of advice. Granted, I hadn’t been so messed up in the head as I was lately, except for when I’d first started gaining fans and my music was taking off, but the solution then was to lean into it. I wasn’t so sure I could lean into the fact that I was done letting my mother and my memory keep me from the place I’d always seen myself.
Nashville was wonderful, but it wasn’t Phoebe. Maybe the reason I was so attached to Phoebe was because when I wasn’t at Spider Way, it was amazing. I loved everything about it, except for the place staring back at me right now.
I sniffled, unable to keep my emotions from completely bleeding out of my body. I saw the whisper of a smile on his face before I turned away and stared back at the trailer. He was right. I needed to do what was right for me, even if it was hard to do. I’d done the hard thing before, leaving Phoebe as a teenager and I’d made it out the other side alive. Hell, I was thriving. Doing what I’d always wanted to do with my life.
My hair followed me as I careened my head wildly to the left, away from Van and the trailer park. I’d been struck with the intense feeling of being watched. You know that feeling when you can just feel eyes on you? The sensation was crawling all over me, like invisible spiders trying to dig their way out of my skin. But when I looked around the trailer park, even honing my sights on the surrounding woods, I couldn’t see anything but wind slightly shifting the orange and red leaves around.
“What is it?” Van questioned, looking beyond me to try and be a witness to what had alerted me. His face was scrunched up in confusion when he came up empty handed.
“Nothing.” I said, clearing my throat, giving one last glance at the trailer. “I’ll think about what to do.” The smile I gave him back was full of gratitude, shining like gold amidst the darkness of my earlier demeanor. “Thanks, Van.”
“Of course.” He nodded, ripping his hands out of the pockets of his slacks and gesturing back to where the rideshare was idling patently. “Should we go or do you need more time?”
I knew we needed to head back to Charlotte so we could hit the airport. Tour rehearsals were going to start in a couple days and I needed to be back in Nashville to use the stadium’s rehearsal space. I could loosely focus on music again while I thought about letting go of Spider Way and it’s web of horrible memories.
“No, let’s go.” I gave a glare of evil intent back at the trailer, looking it up and down like it was the devil himself. “I’ve given this place enough of my time.”
Chapter 11
As soon asVan and I got back to Nashville, I knew things were going to get hectic as fuck. Now that Thanksgiving was over, it was time for me to get into the full swing of tour rehearsals. I only had right at a month to perfect the show. Why I had decided to put myself on such a tight time crunch, I couldn’t remember anymore. All I knew was that tour was coming and I needed to snap into tour mode immediately.
Luckily, I didn’t have any other responsibilities outside of tour rehearsals. The music video forBirthstone Babywas doing well, and people were tagging me non-stop on TikTok as they used my music in their videos. I still silently cyberstalked the fans, especially when I was down or tired. They always had the ability to lift me up when I wasn’t feeling a hundred percent.
I spent the next few weeks with a wild schedule. My day began at four every morning, where I would rush in a breakfast and feed the cats while I downed my morning coffee. Then I would exercise, focusing on my treadmill to strengthen my breath control and my stamina, which would usually last about two hours. Then it was straight to rehearsal, where I would spend ten hours a day learning all the cues, all the choreography, and perfecting everything that needed to be perfected.
Van had basically been my shadow over the weeks of rehearsal. He’d always bring a book with him while I spent most of the day working. It was really cute to see him look up from his latest read to smirk at the high note I would hit or when I would nail the choreography quicker than I had the day before.
Yes, my crush on him was still in tact. However, I was way too fucking busy to dwell or deal with it. He was nice to look at still, of course. But other than that, he arrived with me every day to the rehearsal hall and then left with me once the sun started to set and then we went our separate ways when I’d be dropped off at my house after our mutual rideshare.
Rehearsals were pretty routine, being fairly the same every day, but it was going well. Thank goodness I’d picked the setlist before the first rehearsal, so I wasn’t having to add any last minute additions or anything like that. I was so excited for tour, but man, I was exhausted. I knew that once tour actually started, my body would be so conditioned to the routine that it wouldn’t bother me at all. At least, that’s what I was hoping. I didn’t really have a choice anyway. Tickets had gone on sale after the first week of rehearsal and the stadiums I was playing at were filling up way faster than any of us had expected. So the pressure was on, but I was more than up for it. This tour was going to be fucking awesome. I’d make sure of it.
It was the day before Christmas Eve when rehearsal didn’t go exactly as planned. We had just finished running through the number forAre You Really That Weak?, a song from my first album that I’d decided had to be on the setlist, when Van was at the edge of the rehearsal stage, my phone cradled in his burly hands. He’d been in charge of it while I rehearsed, but it was usually whisper quiet. The look on his face instantly put me on edge. His deep blue eyes were full of worry, and something else that I couldn’t place. I stepped up closer to him, stepping aside from the tour choreographer and my backup dancers.
“I’m so sorry,” Van apologized, offering me my phone. “This number has called five times in the last ten minutes.”
I nodded, sighing lightly. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I turned to the choreographer and the backup dancers and told them I had to take this call. They were gracious about it and the choreographer told everyone to take five. I gave Van a smile that I hoped would convey that it was okay to interrupt, though the look of apology refused to leave his face. I slipped into a sitting position, sitting on the stage so that I could lift myself off to stand down stage like Van. As soon as I plopped down next to him, he handed me the phone.
The number wasn’t saved in my phone, so I was curious about why this person was calling so much. Normally, I probably would have just ignored it. Anyone of importance was saved in my phone. But then my mind wandered, curiosity prickling at the edges of my spine. Still trying to regain my breath after the run-through of the song, I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Alistair.”
The sensation of knives going through my skin hit me just by the timbre of the voice on the other end of the phone. I could instantly feel myself beginning to sweat again. I was a little proud of myself that I hadn’t fainted on the spot once the voice had registered, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen at any given second.
“What’s wrong?” This was from Van, who clearly thought I looked like I’d just seen a ghost. I might not have seen one, but I sure as fuck had just heard one.
Unable to address him, I struggled to find the appropriate words. So when one single word came out of my mouth, I was already chastising myself.
“Mother.”
Van’s eyes went wide. He’d just heard me talk about how horrible I thought my mother was right after Thanksgiving. It was nice to see that I wasn’t the only one shocked to be hearing from her.
“It’s good to hear your voice.” She said on the other end, like it was nothing. Like this conversation was typical. When in reality, I hadn’t heard her voice in more than a decade.
