Page 29 of Burn the Wild

“Asshole,” I hiss as I scan the article.

Not a surprise. It paints me in a sad, pathetic light and keeps the label off Gavin’s back. It’s also Gavin’s way of punishing me. Just like turning off my credit cards and freezing my bank account. I can’t access any of my funds. I’m essentially on an island. Adrift. Alone.

I cover my face and groan.

How did I get here?

What I’d give to go back in time. Dive bars. Intimate acoustic sets. Stadiums that weren’t sold out. Wearing my old Levi’s and singing songsIwrote. Not dolled up the way Gavin likes, singing the songs he picked.

You don’t need to write your own songs,Reese, Gavin explained.No one cares. Just get on stage and wiggle.

It was a mistake to listen to him, but I didn’t have a choice. I was a poor kid, abandoned by my parents, and scared as hell. He took me in, mentored me and made me a star.

He’s the only one who’s ever wanted me in this world.

Glancing back at the article, something stirs inside of me. A tiny tendril of fear. Guilt.

The last two months, as the tour wound down, Gavin’s behavior changed. He became excessively paranoid about money, my whereabouts.

Sometimes, with Gavin, I feel like a computer chip controls my brain.

Tomorrow—tomorrow I figure out a plan.

But first, I need to face the music.

With shaky fingers, I finally turn on my phone. Instantly, I’m hit by a barrage of texts. My chest seizes up.

I don’t care where you are or who you’re doing. I need your perfect ass back here, Reese.

Babe. What the fuck? I’m never going to get this gig without you.

Don’t make me put you back in Muirwood.

The threat burns into my retinas, and I drop the phone on the table.

I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the panic.

I absolutely cannot go back there.

It’s what got me into this mess. Signing that contract and giving Gavin power over me, over my finances, my entire fucking life.

“It’s your fault, Reese. And this is your punishment. Now just sign the damn contract and I’ll take care of you.”

Hot tears spill from my eyes. He’s right. It was my fault.

All my fault.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sucking in a deep breath.

I need to pull it together. Get my contract. Find out what rights I’ve signed away to Gavin. One thing about him, I already know he’s planning to use everything he can against me.

Which is why I have to lie low. Stay here, at least until my car’s fixed. Until Ford Montgomery kicks me out on my ass. It’s clear he wants nothing to do with me. He only sees me as a mess.

The tightness in my chest burns, and my gaze drifts to my pills. Dutifully, like Gavin’s hovering over my shoulder, I swallow one down. The weak rattle of the bottle tells me I need a refill.

I’ll go back to my life. I will. As soon as I get better. And this time, I’ll do things on my own terms.

Think for myself. Live for myself.

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