Page 1 of Burn the Wild

Ihave this spot.

I call it the black hole. The bad voice. It’s followed me ever since the loss of my parents. It’s not real of course, but it feels like it—hovering just above my head, over my shoulders, up in the sky. Over the years, it’s grown. Especially when I’m on stage. Inthislife.

It wants to unhinge its jaws and swallow me alive.

And sometimes I want to let it.

I have this theory that it’s all the bad that won’t come out of me. Or maybe it’s all the good that wants to come in.

I haven’t decided yet.

A hand reaches out and squeezes my thigh. “Babe. Babe.”

I put my hands to my face to block out the annoying noise.

“Babe.”

With a groan, I blink open my eyes. A cracked ceiling greets me. I’m half on, half off the bed, wearing lace boy shorts and a cropped purple and white top that says COWBOY PILLOWS.

The room spins. My body has all the makings of a lawless Friday night. Cotton mouth. Acid tongue. Carousel brain. In other words, a righteous hangover.

The gold bangles on my wrists jingle as I push myself up. Even after all these years, phantom pains still rake over the delicate flesh there. My fingers clasp the bangles, stilling them. Willing those old ghosts not to surface.

“Oh god,” I choke out when I see a pile of dried vomit beside me.Mydried vomit.

I glance at the stocky guy in my bed. He’s nude, only a thin sheet covering his crotch. An eagle tattoo across his chest flexesas he leans over. But he doesn’t reach for me. Instead, he reaches for the coke on the nightstand.

“You made a mess, babe,” he says, staring at me with narrowed, accusatory eyes. “Fucking nasty shit.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Ky.” I wipe my mouth, swallowing down shame. Anger.

I could have choked to death in my sleep, and no one would have cared.

Strike that—they’d only care because I’m their paycheck.

Kyler pats my back with a clammy palm. “It’s all right. We’ll get a maid to clean it up,” he says, then snorts a line of coke.

Last night’s a blur. A show at the Ryman. Drinks on Broadway until two in the morning. I’m sore between the thighs, which means we fucked.

Unfortunately.

Cringing, I swipe a hand over my face, erasing the images. Only I’m not that lucky. Because Kyler’s still here. In bed with me.

Phone now in his hands, he scrolls through tonight’s social media headlines.

Romance Brewing for Our Country Barbie?

Superstar Reese Austin Steps Out with Rumored Boyfriend Kyler Kitt

Country Crooner Has ‘Heart Eyes’ for New Beau

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes. “We made theStar.”

I don’t need to make theStar. I’m in it every damn day without him.

Kyler Bridges is one of Gavin’s newest clients. As an up-and-coming country singer who’s the second opener for my Denim and Diamonds tour, Kyler and I have been pushed together for optics. The tabloids have dubbed us “Country Ken and Barbie.”Which is hilarious because I highly doubt Ken and Barbie ever snorted a line of coke off a limo driver’s cap.

When Kyler goes in for a celebratory boob grab, I slap his hand away. “Stop,” I grit out. I’m so sick of people touching me.

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