Ignoring his snotty tone, I slap my hand over the sheet music in front of me. “Let’s play Shine Through. It’s gonna make a good single. Introducing it on the road will give it a nice boost.”
Actually, I haven’t gotten a handle on what helps a song gain traction. But a whole new crowd listening to it every night can’t hurt, right?
“Sure. Whatever,” Trent sighs.
Here I always assumed he thought White Knight was corny because he knows I wrote it about meeting Logan. Never expected him to be so pouty about taking it out of the set list. Sheesh.
There’s no chance in hell I’d explain to Trent or anyone else my reasoning for not playing the song.
Logan trusted me with something deeply personal and I’d never betray those secrets.
Rooster
Greg brushes against my arm as he squeezes into the tight space side-stage. I nod to him but don’t uncross my arms or take my eyes off Shelby.
She’s on fire tonight.
The glittering red pieces of her dress give off the appearance she’s throwing sparks as she struts across the stage.
None of that bullshit with Ashley had a negative impact on Shelby’s performances. And nothing that I revealed to her changed our relationship. If anything, it’s brought us closer.
I won’t admit it, but Jigsaw was probably right. I should’ve told Shelby sooner. It’s a relief that she knows. Especially since we’ll be near my hometown and home charter soon.
When she finishes the new song she’s added into the set, there’s a brief lull while she banters with the crowd. Can’t help the grin stretching across my face. She’s such a natural on stage. Bright eyes, big smile, glowing cheeks. Shelby was born for this and I’m so damn proud of her.
Greg taps my arm.
My face screws into a scowl.
“You two have a fight?” he shouts.
Irritated, I’m slow to turn my head his way and answer, “No, why?”
He twirls his fingers in the air, to indicate I’m not sure what. “She took White Knight out of the set list.”
I shrug. I’d noticed she didn’t play it the last couple nights but hadn’t asked her about it. Shelby’s music is her business and I figure she has reasons for making changes to her set list. My job’s making sure no one comes near her. “So?”
“It’s your song,” he says, as if that explains anything. “Thought something might’ve happened between you two during her days off.”
Something happened all right—I’m more in love with Shelby than ever. But my past and Shelby’s acceptance of it has nothing to do with her set list.
“It’s not my song. You got a question about music stuff, ask her.”
He blinks and stares as if he’s about to argue but finally raises a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay.”
Of course, now that Greg asked, I can’t stop questioning why she took the song out. My ego isn’t so big I’m worried it has anything to do with me. It is a popular song though. Fans had chanted White Knight and held up signs begging her to play it tonight. Who knows? After playing it every single night on tour, maybe she’s bored and wanted to mix things up?
There’s no time to ask when she walks off stage. Her skin’s flushed and sweaty. She’s smiling but I can tell by the smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and her slower pace that she’s beat. I scoop her into my arms and kiss her cheek, wishing I could take her back to the RV now.
“Meet and greet.” I try to force some pep in my voice. “It’s not a long guest list, though.”
“Anyone special I should know about ahead of time?”
“Not that anyone’s told me.”
I set her down inside the dressing room and help her search for an outfit to change into. “I like the meet-n-greets better when they’re before the show,” she mutters.
“No you don’t. You say you’re always too jittery,” I remind her.
She sighs and sets the jeans in her hands to the side. “Is it terrible that I don’t like them?”
“No.”
“I mean, I like meeting fans. I do. But.” She shakes her hands in front of her body and dances on her toes for a second. “But I get so dang nervous sometimes.”
“I know you do. But you always handle it well. And your fans appreciate it so much.”
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
I rest my hands on her shoulders, willing her to meet my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ll never think badly about you for telling the truth. You’re entitled to your feelings and there’s nothing wrong with them.”
Her shoulders drop and her lips curve in a relieved smile. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” I clap my hands. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”
She tosses an adorable stink-eye my way while she hurries into her jeans. Somehow I keep my hands to myself while she squeezes into a glittering red halter top that’s similar to the dress she wore on stage.