Page 44
“I just…can’t,” I manage. “I’m sorry if this meant more to you than it should’ve.”
His face falls. Ouch, that was harsher than I intended.
“Did it mean anything to you?” he asks.
I want to lie, but I can’t. “It did.”
“So come with me.”
“It’s not that simple,” I snap, angry he won’t let it go. “I’m not a super famous producer with unlimited money and no responsibilities. I’m just…a random person. You need to go back to your house. Now.”
He’s hurt, I can tell, even though his face doesn’t change. He has a way of narrowing his eyes that isn’t really narrowing them, not the way other people do. It’s a flex, briefly creasing the tanned skin. An almost imperceptible wince.
“This is why I hate this shit,” he says quietly.
Taken aback, I gather myself. “What shit?” I ask.
He lifts a hand, waving it absently. “If I could go back to that first fucking contract, I don’t know if I’d sign that shit. If we’d met in a bar and fucked around for a few nights and I asked you to go to Nashville, you’d really consider it.”
My lips part.
Is he right? Would I go with him if he weren’t famous?
“All this shit…fucked up my life.” He doesn’t say it angrily or resentfully. It’s just a sad admittance. “You’re right in staying home. I’d hate to drag someone else into it.”
I’m speechless. He waits for a moment and then shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice gentle. “I shouldn’t have asked. Goodnight.”
Before I can react, he walks out and the door swings shut on a little gust, handle clicking. A prickly lump rises in my throat, and my eyes sting. I wipe my eyes and look around the room, the one I’ve spent every single evening in for as long as I can remember. Back when Mom left, I was so certain it was my responsibility to stay with the ranch, with Dad and Serena. Now that I’m twenty-four and I’ve never left this land, I’m not so sure that’s enough. I do love this ranch. I’ll take it over after Dad retires fully, and I’ll get married and raise my kids here. But before that happens…I want out.
I go up to my room, but I don’t get to the door. Instead, I turn on my heel and walk to Serena’s room, knocking lightly.
She pulls open the door. I wasn’t expecting that. I assumed she was still out with Colin. The second she sees my face, she steps aside to let me into her bright pink, gauzy childhood bedroom. She still has a boyband poster on her wall over the dresser.
“Did someone die?” she asks, shutting the door.
I shake my head. The words sit in my throat, heavy.
“What?”
I shrug, biting my lip.
“Seriously, Sabrina. What?”
“I slept with Coen,” I blurt out.
Her jaw drops, and the silence is so loud. Then, her mouth curves into a smile.
“Seriously? When? Was he any good?”
Wringing my hands, I sink down on the edge of the bed and ignore all her questions. “I think I like him,” I blurt out.
She drops down on the bed, cross-legged. “How long has this been going on?”
“Like…the whole time he’s been here,” I admit, wiping my eyes. I don’t know why, but I’m crying a little bit.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
