Page 22 of Freeing the Wild
“A woman.”
Wade lets out a low laugh, which causes Billi to stir.He pats her back to settle her.
“They tend to do that.”
“Yeah.Only I’m thinking I may never see this one again.Came in like a fucking summer storm and left like one too.”
“You didn’t see her coming and she almost tore the roof off?”Wade grins.
I laugh as I swallow my bourbon.“Pretty fucking much.”
“Woooo, go baby!”Ivy calls out from the kitchen.Wade and I look in her direction and stand.
“The fuck is this woman going on about?”Wade says, nodding toward Ivy.I follow him into the kitchen.I’m starving despite the cloying scent of spices brewing in the house.As we round the corner, Wade is already chuckling as Ivy stirs an orange-colored sauce in a pot with the chicken.She’s singing along to a video streaming from her iPad.The song is folksy bluegrass and the woman’s voice is angelic.I turn my attention to it and focus on the screen.My heart stops when I see the video and I almost drop the glass I’m holding.There, on the screen, in a little white fringe dress, white cowboy boots and a white cowboy hat, is my summer storm in the flesh.I watch Cassie as she strums the guitar and sings a song I’m pretty sure I’ve heard on the radio.Her voice is raspy and sweet, old-timey in the way you’d imagine a vocalist from the 1940s to sound.Her blue eyes are closed as though the song is being sung from her soul.
“Found the livestream of her set,” Ivy exclaims to Wade as I try to make sense of this.
“You a fan?”I ask, very confused and needing to understand why Ivy is cheering on the woman that was riding my cock less than twenty-four hours ago.Ivy stops stirring and dips a spoon into her sauce.
“Hells yes,” she says, making her way to Wade to give him a taste test.“She’s my baby sister.”
“Yeah.You met her yesterday, didn’t you?”Wade asks as he takes a taste from the spoon.“She was visiting to meet Billi.Left this morning for Lexington.”
“She never mentioned she was a musician when she fell off the horse,” I grit out.Thankfully, I don’t have to say any more because Wade takes a swallow of the sauce and starts to choke.
“Holy shit, Trouble, that’s spicy,” he barks out as he plows his way to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.
“It’s supposed to be spicy!Where’s your brave culinary side, Chief?”Ivy asks before she starts ranting about the health benefits of hot Hungarian paprika.But I don’t register what she’s saying.I set my glass on the counter, transfixed by the woman singing her heart out on the small screen.I’m shocked and can’t ignore how perfectly beautiful she looks up there on that stage.But most of all I’m fuckingpissed.Because this little princess not only ditched me, she was also staying on the ranch.She was right under my nose last night.I fucking worried about her safety.Yet she knew I was right down the path and still kept her identity a secret.
And she never once thought to tell me she was Ivy’s little sister?!Never once thought about what might happen if my boss’ wife found out I had a one-night stand with her sister.Never thought about what kind of awkward fucking position that puts me in as Wade’s employee?This job is the only thing I have.It’s the one thing I’m good at.But Cassie didn’t give a single thought to the potential consequences for me.I flex my fists at my side and, as I watch her finish her song to an exploding crowd, I realize she did me a favor.I won’t think about her for one more second.She’s exactly who I thought she was from the moment I met her: a self-serving little princess, and one I don’t care to ever fucking run into again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cassie
Five Months Later—February
The Rustic Chords Music Festival logo stares back at me while I take a swallow of straight tequila.I close my overflowing notebook of lyrics and half songs, tapping my pen on the top as I hum the tune that plays on a loop in my brain, knowing I won’t be able to come back to it until later.The reoccurring desire to be on a warm front porch somewhere with my feet up while I write, instead of in a dimly lit dressing room, is a yearning I can’t let go of.But, today, I push it down.I have to.Because there’s no sense in wanting something I can’t have.
The crowd beyond the stage is electric in the warm California air, as a fellow Tennessee native and growing country star, Evan Woods, finishes up his set.I’m next, and I’m trying to find the energy for this show.I’m exhausted.I’ve been up since five-thirty.We drank too much last night at the preshow, and alcohol never mixes well with my anxiety.Just the sounds of the crowd and the thought of the after—the feeling when the show ends and I hit my anxiety hangover—make my palms tingle.Sometimes the anticipation of that is worse than the feeling itself.Another swig of tequila dulls my nerves.
I’ve always been anxious about performing, but these days ittakes this double shot of liquor just to get onstage.Because with the spotlight comes the scrutiny.
The more my latest song grew in popularity, the more the internet filled with piranhas waiting to tear me to shreds.There are days it feels like those trolls have taken every last drop of confidence from me with their awful words.I try not to read the comments about how my music sounds too much like Sierra Ferrell’s or Lainey Wilson’s, that I’m nothing but a knockoff.I try not to hear the ones talking about my thick thighs and cellulite when I wear skirts onstage.Or the “awkward” way I move when I’m playing guitar and singing at the same time.
I set the tequila down, knowing my stomach is going to hate me for it later.But I’m up next and this crowd is huge.This is the second-largest festival I’ve played since last summer.The headliner, Luke Bridges, is the fastest rising country star in the US.Dax says that I’m moving up in the world, because tonight Luke is going to make an appearance for my last song to surprise the crowd and sing it with me.It was his idea.
I check my phone now and answer a good luck text from the group chat with my mom and sister with a smiley face and a “kiss my niece.”Ever since the one-night stand with Haden that rocked my world I’ve been doing my best not to talk to Ivy too much.Hearing stories from the ranch reminds me ofhim.And I haven’t been able to go a day without thinking of him since we met.
I ran that night.The way he made me feel, the way he looked at me … it shook me to my core.The instant connection, the way he held every ounce of power I usually possess in his hands.I wasn’t lying when I told him I hate awkward goodbyes.It’s easier to cut the tie, to run the other way.With Haden, that took a lot.I’ve been ready to text Ivy and ask her for his number on countless occasions.Just to see how he is, to let him know it was because of me that I ran, not him.But the idea of gettingclose to someone whenthisis my life?Constantly moving from city to city.Owned by my publicist and my manager.Drowning in my own personal sea of self-doubt and imposter syndrome.It wouldn’t be fair to him or to me.It’s easier for us both if all we ever have is that one incredible night together.Only, I can’t shut my emotions off with logic.Which means I now have this notebook full of songs, one of which was the fifth-most streamed song in country music last month.Running from Haden when I’m singing about him night after night is proving harder than expected.
“You ready, sugar?”Dax asks, appearing out of nowhere behind me.He’s a tall, thin man of thirty-five and looks more preppy and posh than country.But he booked me shows no one else could when I was nobody and, in his words, he always makes sure I’m “taken care of.”His perfectly pressed jeans fit him like they cost more than mine, and they probably did.If there’s one thing Dax is good at it’s spending money.I try to stand and smooth out my purple leather pants and matching top.The heavy buckle at my waist digs in but it’s fitting better after the last few months of being on the road and constantly being on my feet in four-inch heels.
I try to take a deep breath as the thirty thousand people in the audience who are crowding the stage explode for Evan.But peace doesn’t come.
“I just need a minute,” I say, loosening my buckle for a second and taking a seat on one of the benches backstage.
“Uh … Cassie, we don’t really have a second.Luke is on a tight schedule and you don’t want to get behind during this set.”
