Page 104 of Rope Me In

With the persistent thought of Presley about to go onstage, I haul ass toward the hands’ quarters where my truck is parked. When I arrive, I throw open the door and grab my car keys off the kitchen table, tossing them in my hands as I turn to leave. But when I pass the small kitchenette, a flash of familiar silver catches my eye on the counter.

I stop in my tracks, and my palms turn clammy as I turn my body to face Dad’s flask. The monogrammed M etched in the silver stares at me, as if it’s beckoning me toward it. Against my better judgment, I put my keys in my pocket and walk over to pick it up. I hold the family heirloom in my hands, feelingthe coolness of it against my palm. It’s funny how such a small, inanimate object can feel like it’s alive.

Before I know what I’m doing, I grab the bottle of whiskey I had in the cupboard from weeks ago and move to the small dining table. I sit, opening the flask and filling it with the brown liquid. I put the cap back on then stare at it, my fingers tracing the M.

For a moment, I hear Dad’s voice in my head, asking,What are you doing, Kade?But I don’t answer. I only continue to stare.

Chapter 33

Presley

My heart pounds asthe song “Honky Tonkin’s What I Do Best” by Marty Stuart and Travis Tritt flies out of me and the warm vibrations of my fiddle echo through Night Hawk. The people on the dance floor sing along, dance, and clap as I lose myself in playing the last song of the night.

I’ve felt a lot of things onstage before, but nothing quite like this. I feel…exhilarated. Stronger, confident, and more capable than I ever have before. Part of that has to do with the fact that I’m doing what I love, what I was born for—and my heart is rejoicing, almost bursting from my chest. And the other part has to do with the man I left at the ranch. The man I still haven’t seen hide nor hair of.

Sweat drips from my brow as I play the last few notes, looking to the audience where Kade said he’d be one more time—but he’s still not there. My good feeling ceases, but then the song ends, and the cheers of the crowd drown out my thoughts for a moment.

“Everyone give a big round of applause for our special guest, Presley James!” Andy, the lead singer, says into the mic. More cheers and hollers erupt, and a flush appears on my cheeks as I bow, soaking in this moment of happiness before I motion for everyone to clap for the rest of the band.

After more clapping and bowing, making my cheeks turn so red I probably look like a red color swatch, the musicover the loudspeaker starts up, and I’m walking off the stage feeling several different emotions.

“Presley, that was fucking killer!” Jake shouts, giving me a hug I would normally find awkward but one I find myself leaning into, another thing that’s changing about me.

I pull back with a chuckle, my fiddle still in one hand. “Thanks, Jake.”

“No, thank you. You were incredible.”

With a gentle smile on my face, I search for Kade again—but still, no dice.

“He’s not here,” Jake says.

I think I become redder than I already am, which should be impossible. Of course Jake knows who I’m looking for.

He glances over the crowd as well. “I was about to text him.”

I attempt another smile at Jake. I looked for Kade several times throughout the night, and every time I didn’t see him, I tried to tell myself it was a good thing, that dinner went well. But now that the adrenaline of being onstage is wearing off, something doesn’t feel right. He promised he’d be here—and Kade doesn’t lie.

With Jake’s eyes on me, I pull out the phone I had tucked in my back pocket to see if he’s texted, but there’s nothing there. At least not from him.

There is one text from Derek, which only adds to the growing anxiety I’m feeling. I bite my lip and click it open.

DEREK: I’m on probation. I hope you’re fucking happy.

I delete the message, and with a few quick taps, I do what I should’ve done when I first moved here: I block him. I didn’t have the strength or the bravery to do it before. In a way, Derek was like a cigarette—cancerous and bad for me, something Iknew I shouldn’t have done but did anyway. But I don’t need him, and I don’t want him.

As I slide my phone back in my pocket, a weight lifts from my shoulders, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My asshole ex isn’t part of my life anymore; he’s part of my past. One that I’m learning to let go of so I can focus on my future, a future I hope involves a man who isn’t here.

Fear sours my insides. “Do you mind if I take off?” I ask Jake. I glance at the large crowd. “I can stay to help if you need me.”

He shakes his head. “Go check on him,” he says. The hint of concern in his voice only serves to feed my anxiety, though he quickly covers it. “You’ve worked hard enough for tonight. But I think this might have to be a regular occurrence.”

“Hell yes, it does!” Andy appears at Jake’s side. He’s got a dusty-colored cowboy hat on over his red hair. A moment later, the guitarist, bassist, and drummer flank him, all grinning widely at me.

“We actually wanted to talk to you about playing with us more,” Andy says. “You’re extremely talented, and we all had fun tonight.”

“What Andy wants to say is that we’re going on a little tour around Texas after Christmas,” the drummer, Brent, says. “And we’d love to have you join us.”

Excitement sparks in my veins at the prospect of it, of being back on the road and playing my fiddle every night, feeling the vibrations of music in my soul once again. Like I did tonight—and with a band that’s been nothing but kind and supportive of me since I’ve met them.

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