Page 2 of Catch
“Dang,” Jesse laughed, leaning back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “For a second there, I thought maybe someone special had caught your eye.”
It took Jesse no time to settle into the rhythm of our family banter. In fact, she was almost better at it than the rest of us.
“Dear, sweet Jesse,” I sighed dramatically, shaking my head in mock dismay. “You’re still fairly new around here, so I’m going to let it slide, but you should know that the only thing that could catch my eye and give me that twinkle is a nine-pound bass on a curl tail grub.”
“Too bad you’ve never known that kind of pleasure,” Gramps grunted with a chuckle, and the rest of the table erupted in laughter.
“Don’t be mad because I can out-fish you.”
“I’m the one who taught you to fish.”
“But the student has now become the master.”
“Wanna prove it tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m there!” I grinned, feeling that old, competitive spark ignite in my chest.
There wasn’t much I loved more than fishing with Gramps, especially when it turned into a friendly competition. It was something that Easton and West didn’t understand, but Gramps and I shared it—just the two of us. It had become my escape, my therapy on days when the weight of the world was too much to bear.
“Biggest catch wins?” I taunted, taking my last bite of mashed potatoes and pushing my plate away.
“Sure,” Gramps shrugged, his eyes glinting with that old, familiar challenge. “But since you don’t know anything about landing a big catch, it’ll be like taking candy from a baby.”
“What?” Incredulous, I jumped out of my chair. “You haven’t caught anything bigger than me in two years! I have a twenty-three-pound catfish in the freezer still waiting for a fish fry to prove it!”
“Maybe I’m not talking about fishing,” Gramps winked at Grams, and a chill ran down my spine. Before he even finished his sentence, I knew what he was about to say. I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that I was about to be the victim.Shit,I wasn’t ready.“You have no idea what it's really like landing a big catch.”
Damn him.
Chapter One
LOXLEY
The final notefaded into the air, and the applause surged, growing louder, more thunderous, until it seemed to fill every inch of the venue. The lights above me burned like tiny suns, blinding me and leaving the faces of the crowd shrouded in a sea of shadows. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I felt them—every clap, every cheer, every desperate plea for one more song. It was electric, and it pulled at me in a way that was both exhilarating, and suffocating.
My throat was raw, every breath feeling like sandpaper scraping against my vocal cords. My legs shook beneath me, and my shoulders ached with the weight of two hours of constant movement. The music had carried me through, but now, the adrenaline was starting to fade, and my body screamed for a moment of stillness, a second to breathe.
As the band played the final, lingering notes of the encore, I raised my hands, offering them a wave that was more out of habit than anything else. The crowd was still screaming, but I could only hear the distant hum of my own pulse in my ears. Even though my energy was running low, I gave them everything I had left. They deserved it. They always deserved the best of me, even when I felt like nothing was left to give. I wasn’t sure if Icould manage another smile, but I did, because that’s what they wanted to see.
“Thank you!” I croaked, my voice thin and strained, barely cutting through the roar of the crowd. “Thank you so much!”
It was a hollow sound, a farewell that didn’t feel like a celebration anymore. I forced myself to smile, even though the muscles in my face felt like they were made of concrete, heavy and reluctant. Then, the lights dimmed, and the curtain fell on another show.
Once off stage, I hurried down the narrow corridor leading toward the back exit. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting harsh, cold shadows on the walls that seemed to stretch forever. I didn’t have the energy to stop and greet anyone, to offer the usual hugs or smiles. I knew the crew understood. Hell, they probably felt the same. We had all been on the road for months, and the line between exhaustion and despair had blurred somewhere along the way.
“Nice work out there,” one of the crew guys called out as I passed him, his tone friendly but laced with concern. He tried to catch my eye, but I was already moving too fast, my feet carrying me forward like they were operating on autopilot.
I gave him a polite nod, but it felt like a hollow gesture. I couldn’t form the words of thanks, couldn’t pretend that I had the energy to care. Not now. I barely had the strength to make it to the exit.
It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t even about them, really. I just needed to disappear for a moment, to find some space where no one expected anything from me, where no one would pull at the fragile thread that held me together.
When I reached the door to the venue, I pushed out into the cool night air, the sudden shift from the stifling heat of the stage to the crisp, open air almost dizzying. I sucked in a deep breath, desperate to fill my lungs with something real, something nottainted by smoke or the thick buzz of the crowd’s applause. The tour bus was parked just a few steps away, but at that moment, it felt like a hundred miles.
I didn’t move toward it. Instead, I leaned against the rough brick wall, letting the coolness seep through my clothes, trying to ground myself. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, and my muscles were screaming for relief, but it wasn’t going to happen—not now. Sam, my manager, would find me soon enough and drag me back in. He always did.
"Nice job tonight."
I flinched at the sound of his voice, sharp and unexpected, like a dart thrown into the stillness. He had some radar for tracking my breaking point.Damn, that was quick.
