The next couple of hours are a blur of obsessively checking my phone during commercials, chatting with other attendees, and trying to stuff down my emotions. As I plaster on a fake smile, I attempt to convince myself that she hasn’t reached out because she isn’t watching the show, and none of our hometown friends have mentioned it to her. Deep down, I know it’s unlikely since all our friends have blown up my phone about what they saw, asking what it means. I wish the hell I knew. I teeter back and forth about calling her during a commercial break and ultimately decide against it. I put my heart out there. If she wants me, she needs to take the next step.
Fuck.
I stroke my brows and rub my temples, trying to lessen the building tension during the last commercial break. Next up is the biggest award of the night—Entertainer of the Year. The only award that really matters to me. The one I’ve chased my entire career because it combines artistryandperformance. Losing out on other awards tonight hasn’t bothered me. The winners deserved it more. But this one should be mine. I need this win. Ifmy personal life is going to be a dumpster fire, this could be the silver lining to an otherwise shitty night.
I plaster on my well-known Chase Elliott smile, urging the twinkle in my eye and dimples to appear as the cameras pan to me when my name is read. It’s now or never. I rub my hands on my pants, holding my breath for a second as I wait to hear the winner.
Time stops when my name is announced.
It’s an out-of-body experience as I hug the people around me and make my way to the stage. I have no idea what I’m going to say. I haven’t prepared a speech because I didn’t want to jinx it.
I dish out hugs to the presenters, carefully holding the award in my sweating hands. The glass feels cool against my skin as I stare into the audience, trying to find the right words. My mouth hangs open in shock, unable to believe this is really happening. I bite my lower lip, inflicting a small amount of pain to pull me out of this trance.
“This is a dream come true. Thank you to the fans for coming to see my shows every night. My label, management team, band, and crew who always have my back and continually help me uplevel everything I do,” I say, my voice laced with emotion, tears brimming in my eyes. “Most importantly…thank you to my mom, who is watching from heaven, for always believing in me. And to my best friend…who helped me remember who I really am. The man I want to be.” I put a hand on my chest and close my eyes before walking off stage, where I know Jason will be waiting in the wings, excited and eager to take me on a quick round of interviews before heading to a series of after-parties.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for in my career is finally coming together. This award is proof. I should feel hyped up, ready to take on the world. Instead, winning is bittersweet because the two people I wish were beside me tonight aren’t.
One is gone from my life for good.
And the other might be, too.
sixty-two
JAKE
The next houris nonstop interviews, photos, and glad-handing with everyone who comes into my orbit. Jason is at my side, while my publicist, Anna, is running both of us. Like usual. Her short five-foot-four stature and southern belle charm often cause people to underestimate her. No one makes that mistake twice, which is why she’s an integral member of my team, even if she and Jason are constantly at each other’s throats.
“That’s enough for now. We’ve got to make our way inside,” Anna says sweetly to the sea of photographers lined up on the red carpet at the third after-party of the night. She ushers me inside, glaring at anyone who tries to stop us.
“You need to go shake hands with the record label,” Jason instructs, not looking up from his phone. “Don’t be surprised if they claim your stunt was their idea. There’s been a flurry of texts suggesting that’s how they want to play this with the media, especially since country radio is clamoring for the new single.”
“Okay. Just point me where I need to go,” I respond, handing the award to Anna and quickly checking my phone. It’s been vibrating nonstop with congratulatory messages.
Radio silence from her.
“After you do what Jason wants, I need a picture with the other nominees,” Anna says, her fingers flying across her phone. No one can multitask like her. It’s a goddamn skill she’s perfected. “We want to position you as humble and approachable. Loved by all.”
“Loved by all might be pushing it, Anna,” I scoff. Everyone else in the world can adore me, but it won’t mean anything if she doesn’t.
Fuck.
I need to snap out of this mood and celebrate.
When I’m Chase Elliott, I’m the life of the party. The guy everyone wants to hang out with.
Except tonight, because I’m counting down the minutes until I can crawl into bed. Alone.
I follow Anna around the party like a lost dog. Smiling at everyone I meet. Pretending it’s the best night of my life, that I’m ecstatic to be here. Even alcohol doesn’t dull the ache of putting myself out there and not hearing a peep from her.
The past four months have been absolute hell. It’ll fucking destroy me if she never reaches out or confirms that she doesn’t want a life with me. But at least I’ll know I did everything in my power to try to get the girl of my dreams back.
We’re thirty minutes into this party when Jason mutters something about heading to another as the three of us huddle in a corner. I groan at the thought of keeping this smile on my face for much longer.
“What’s going on with you?” Jason asks, eyeing me like my body has been snatched by aliens. “You’re not yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, hoping he’ll drop whatever interrogation he’s planning.
“Doesn’t seem fine. Is this about her?” He slips his phone in his pocket, giving me his full focus. Damn it. He’s not going to let this go. He can be a dog with a bone when he’s determined. It’s agreat trait for your manager to have when they’re negotiating for you and running interference. As long as he’s not using it on me. Then it fucking sucks.
