Page 67 of Country Music Cowboy
He was eavesdropping now—something he wasn’t comfortable with. He knocked, loud enough that there was no missing it. “Loretta?” he added, his voice gruff.
There was a brief pause. “Just a minute.” Another pause. “I’ll call you back.” And the closet door slowly opened. Loretta was sitting on the floor, pale and wide-eyed and holding her phone in a white-knuckled grip.
Travis dropped down, sitting beside her with his back against the wall. Now wasn’t the time to ask the growing list of questions he had for her. She’d likely tell him it wasn’t his business anyway. But he hadn’t come here to irritate her; he’d come her to offer her comfort. Sitting here beside her, in silence, was the only option.
“My father is an alcoholic. He’s gone to rehab, but it was only when he was hungry and we were too broke to put food on the table.” She didn’t look at him. “He’s a gambler. Mostly with my money now, since he’s never had much.” Her sigh was bone-weary. “But he knows I’ll pay it because he’ll say whatever he needs to for the money he wants.”
Her words cut deep. “Loretta—”
“I’m only telling you this in case he’s already done something stupid.” She shook her head. “I won’t let him drag your family through the dirt for profit, I give you my word.”
“What can I do?” he asked, meaning it.
She shook her head.
They sat there for a while. Travis didn’t want to push, but he couldn’t leave. This wasn’t about how strong or capable she was. She was both, he knew that. This was about letting her know she did have someone on her side. Whether she wanted him there or not.
“I’ve been thinking about your song,” Loretta said, surprising him. “The knight song?”
He nodded and turned. “Emmy Lou’s song?”
“What if you do the first verse all acoustic only?” she asked. “Then, when the chorus starts, I see strings. Violin, viola, cello, all of it. Go all in with it. Don’t laugh but, a harp, even.”
“Why would I laugh?” He smiled. “I’m always looking for a new instrument to play.”
“I didn’t mean you’d play it.” Her surprise was evident, but there was a slight smile on her lips.
“You’re going to play?” He nodded. “I like it. I can see you playing the harp like a boss.”
She laughed then. “Play the harp like a boss? Did you really say that?”
“How else would you play it?” He shrugged. “I think a harp is a good idea. Anything else?”
Her topaz gaze searched his. “I do have an idea for the other song. The dancing song.”
After a while, it didn’t seem off to be sitting on the floor of her closet. She was caught up in the music and he was caught up in her. That spark she had, the excitement and anticipation of what they were working toward. It wasn’t where they were, it was what they were doing. Music was the thing that healed her—that soothed the stress and worry and pain from her heart. It was about creating something beautiful out of the dark. Finding strength in the notes and lyrics that would rise above the noise and chaos of everyday life. Together, they were building a safe harbor to shelter through the storm. And, damn, but he wanted nothing more than to stay right here and be that shelter—if she’d let him.
Chapter 12
Loretta waved, her arm hooked through Travis’s, as they made their way from the side of the stage.
“Welcome, welcome.” Late night talk show host, Guy James, met them halfway. He gave her a quick hug, kissed her cheek, shook hands with Travis, and led them to the loveseat opposite Guy James’ massive desk. “I am so pleased to have the two of you join me,” Guy said once they were all seated.
“Thank you for having us.” She smiled.
“It’s good to be back.” Travis nodded.
“My sincere pleasure to have you both.” Guy held a stack of pale blue notecards in his hand. “Before we start with these, I’d like to mention that you’re both looking well.” He nodded as the audience gave an appropriately enthusiastic applause. “It would seem my audience agrees with me.”
Loretta smiled, smoothing her peacock-colored skirt—a color she’d be wearing a lot of thanks to the tour’s costumer—over her thighs and sat back.
“Travis.” Guy tapped his cards on his desk. “You’ve been pumping iron, haven’t you?” He paused. “Don’t deny it. We have this.” He pointed at the screen.
It was the first time Loretta had seen a picture of pre-rehab Travis next to post-rehab Travis. The change was incredible.
“You could give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money, I think.” Guy shook his head. “Are you working out with your sister’s new husband? Mr. Football Star, Brock Watson?”
“I’m flattered but Brock probably wouldn’t be.” Travis chuckled. “I’d never survive working out with him. But my head of security has been kind enough to whip me into shape. As you can see, there was a lot of work to be done.”
