Girl in Love (34 page)

“Which thing?”

“That I’m sorry I hurt you. That walking away from you like that was the hardest decision I ever made. And I’ll spend every second you’ll let me trying to make that up to you.”

She took a deep breath. “Trace, if you ever go back into rehab, then I’m visiting you whether you like it or not, dammit. You don’t get to cut and run. No more making those kinds of decisions without me.”

She felt the low rumble of his chuckle against her bare skin.

She made the tremendous effort to rise up and glare at him. She pinched his bare side. Hard. “I’m serious.”

“Ouch. I know, Hothead. I know you are.” He kissed the top of her head and gave her a reassuring squeeze as she returned to her restful position. “Trust me. Losing you was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever lived through—and for me, that’s saying something. I won’t intentionally do that to myself ever again.”

She didn’t know if it was his postcoital honesty, her own recently exposed emotions, or the reminder of the nickname he’d given her, but tears began to slip from her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he began softly. “None of that.” Trace wiped her tears with his thumb and leaned down to press his lips to hers. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, pretty girl. Believe me, I hurt myself pretty good too.”

“Yeah, well…” she paused to sniffle in an attempt to suck it up before she became an ugly-crying mess. “Don’t do it again.”

“I swear, baby. I will try my absolute best not to.”

She snuggled back down into his arms. Minutes or hours might have passed, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was safe and happy with the man she loved, and it was like…like going home after being away for far too long.

“Babe?” He traced a slow circle on her back with a calloused finger.

“Hmm?”

“There is something I should tell you. Something about Gretchen.”

Kylie froze. Her body went from a warm, boneless heap to a tight, rigid bundle of nerves. She wanted her warm and fuzzies back.

“Trace, whatever it is, let’s just not right now. Okay?”

This was their place, their private reunion, and no one else was invited. Damn sure not Gretchen Gibson.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I guess I won’t ask about Rocker Boy either. Not that I even really want to know.”

Kylie took a deep breath. She’d hoped after tonight there wouldn’t be anyone else between them. But it looked like that might’ve been too much to hope for.

“He and I never did what you probably think we did.” She drew a heart with her pointer finger on Trace’s chest.

She felt him raise his head to look down at her. “Seriously? Never?”

“Nope. Not even once.”

“Huh.” She smiled as he relaxed beneath her. “Well now I feel kind of bad for slugging him.”

“Oh, I mean, we
did
stuff.
Just not that.”

“And magically my remorse is gone.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.
Boys.

A violent knock on the bus door startled them both.

“What the hell?” Trace sat up, and so did she. “I told everyone I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Trace! Trace, it’s Pauly. I need you to open up if you’re in there,” she heard Pauly Garrett yell from outside the bus between the pounding knocks. “It’s important.”

“Shit,” Trace mumbled as they pulled themselves from the warm bed. “What now?”

They dressed as quickly as they could. Kylie couldn’t find her underwear so she slid her jeans on over her bare skin. She located her bra but couldn’t find her shirt anywhere. Trace handed her his. She buttoned it hurriedly as they headed to the door.

“I hope everyone’s okay. What do you think is going on?”

“No idea,” Trace answered. “But there are cops out there.” He pulled back from the window and reached for the door. “You got warrants out, baby?”

She laughed. “Oh yeah. Tons.” But the smile fell from her face when she saw the grave expression on Pauly’s.

Kylie watched from behind Trace as Pauly introduced the two uniformed police officers.

“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling his white T-shirt on over his head.

His manager looked ten years older than usual. And Kylie suspected it wasn’t just because he’d been woken up in the middle of the night.

Something was wrong. Something bad. She’d been in this exact situation before, when they came to tell her and Darla that her dad had been killed. She didn’t know if the next words were actually spoken out loud or an echo from her memory.

“There’s been an accident.”

T
RACE BARELY
resisted the urge to throttle someone until he got some answers.

“What kind of accident? Who? Where?” He looked from Pauly to the uniformed officers next to him. He was vaguely aware of Kylie’s arms wrapping around his waist.

He didn’t have to ask if it was bad. That much he could tell from the grief etched in his manager’s features.

“Trace,” Pauly said evenly. “It’s Rae.”

The blood drained from his face to his toes instantly. A wounded sound came from beside him. Kylie’s body sagged forward. He was barely able to hold himself up, much less her. But he did the best he could.

“What happened to her? Goddammit, Pauly, tell me what the hell is going right this fucking minute.”

“She was in a car accident. I really think it’s better if you just—”

He opened his mouth to yell, but a small but firm hand on his chest stopped him.

“What condition is she in and where is she?” Kylie interrupted. “And how soon can we get there?”

A million thoughts ran through his head. None of which he could articulate. He was thankful that she could ask the right questions.

“She was with some friends. They were in a head-on collision in downtown Atlanta. She’s at Emory and she’s critical.”

“I have to go,” he said, charging forward, not knowing how he could get there but feeling like he could sprint the whole damn way if he had to.

“There’s a flight in the morning. I’ve booked you on the eight a.m. The officers are going to give you an escort to the airport and a car will meet—”

“How long would it take to drive?” Kylie asked.

“Around six to seven hours,” Pauly answered. “But she’s in surgery and they’ll be keeping her sedated so she won’t know you’re there until tom—”

“I have my daddy’s truck. We could get on the road right now,” she offered.

Trace turned and looked into her wide, tear-filled eyes. “Get the truck, but you’re staying. We can’t both leave.”

“He’s right, Kylie,” Pauly added. “We can release a statement saying Trace had a family emergency, but you can’t both ditch the tour.”

He felt her fingers dig into his arms. “You are my family.” The conviction in her voice staggered him.

He pulled her to him. “I know, Kylie Lou. And you’re mine. But Rae needs me now and I have to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You go I go, Trace. I care about her too.” His chest ached at the way her voice broke.

“Mr. Corbin?” one of the officers broke in. “We can escort you as far as the state line. 78 East is going to be your best bet.”

Kylie took advantage of the distraction and pulled away from him, moving past all of them. He heard her urgent voice telling someone on the phone to bring her truck around immediately.

“Sounds good, officers. Thank you.” He looked over at his manager. “Pauly, I’m going. And odds are, she’s going too. Tell the band I’m sorry and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

His manager nodded and stepped away from the officers. He signaled with a discreet nod for Trace to do the same so he did.

“Look, this might be it for you with the label. Unless you’re willing for the details of Rae’s accident to be made public. I don’t know how else to cover for you this time.”

“Details?”

“She was driving. It looks like there was alcohol involved. The girl that was with her is in bad shape. Might not make it through the night.”

He ran a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to pull it the hell out in frustration.

“Jesus.”

Pauly looked him in the eyes. “I’m not trying to keep you from going. I know you have to go. I just want you to know what it might mean. For both of you,” he said, tilting his head toward where Kylie stood waiting.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” Trace said quietly. The man with Kylie’s truck had pulled up. She tossed the keys to him and he caught them.

He watched Pauly walk around the hood and say something to her. She smiled weakly as she nodded. For a split second, he was torn. He wanted her to come, he did. She was right. She was as much a part of his family as Rae or Claire Ann was. But once again, being a part of his life was going to fuck up hers.

His eyes met her panicked ones over the hood of the truck.

“Kylie, I promise, I’ll be okay. You can stay and I swear I’ll keep you posted on every single thing that hap—”

“Get your tight-jean-wearing ass in this truck right this damn instant, Trace Corbin. Every second you waste arguing with me is a second we aren’t there.”

Judging from the blazing determination in her glare and her stance, he knew it was time to do as she said or else. He might be able to dominate her in the bedroom, but that was about it.

This was his girl. She was still his Kylie Lou.

Trace shot a helpless look at Pauly who gave him a what-can-you-do look and shrugged.

“Okay. Here we go.”

F
OUR HOURS
in, Trace was extremely grateful she’d come along. He refused to let her drive because he could see the bone-deep exhaustion weighing on her. But she’d been the one checking in with Claire Ann every half hour, and each time they stopped for gas, she grabbed him a large black coffee and every snack food she could carry.

He didn’t have an appetite, but the coffee was a lifesaver.

The sun came up as they crossed into Georgia. He slid his sunglasses on and winced at the skull-shattering headache the glare had already caused.

Kylie’s voice was soft in the cab. “What you’re imagining is probably ten times worse than it actually is.”

He tried to take a breath. Ever since the words
It’s Rae
had dropped like concrete bricks from Pauly’s mouth, Trace had felt like they’d landed on his chest.

“You’re probably right. It’s just…” He couldn’t talk about it. Talking about it made it real. Made it terrifying and made him want a drink. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went numb. “If anything happens to her, I swear—”

“She’s a tough girl, Trace. She’s going to be fine.” She placed her hand firmly on his knee.

She sounded like she really believed that. So for the rest of the drive, he focused on making himself believe it too.

“H
ANNAH, I
don’t know what to tell you other than I’m sorry. I have to be with Trace right now and I’m not at liberty to explain. All I can tell you is he had a family emergency and I need to be here.”

The exasperation her manager felt was palpable even through the phone.

Kylie had talked to Hannah and Lulu several times since arriving in Georgia. She’d told Lu the actual truth, but Hannah she had to be vague with. The one thing Trace had made adamantly clear was that under no circumstances of any kind were the details of Rae’s accident to be shared with anyone who might leak it to the label or the media.

“Chaz is not happy, Miss Ryans. The label is going to be even more upset. This just isn’t done. Unless you yourself are dying or someone close to you is dead, there isn’t a family emergency big enough to justify disappearing in the middle of the night.”

Kylie’s brain seemed to have switched places with her heart, as there was steady throbbing coming from inside her head.

“I know, Han. Believe me, I know. Just…do what you can. Call Jane Bradford and tell her I’ll be in touch.”

“The show in Oklahoma City this weekend is sold out. What am I supposed to say is your reason for canceling it?”

Kylie closed her eyes, thankful that Hannah couldn’t see her. She was pretty sure this wasn’t going to be over in a mere four days.

“All I can give anyone right now is two words. Family emergency. It’s all I have, Han. I’m sorry.”