Page 48 of Hero on the Road
It wasn’t like I wanted him out of my life. I was miserable. Dreamed about him every night and thought about him every day. I’d picked up the phone a million times to call him and try to explain. Try to apologize. But I couldn’t exactly change anything now. What was done was done, and there was no going back.
My heart was well and truly broken and my head felt empty of any emotion, but he had his contract and was starting a big tour of his own. And that made it worth it. Connor would have stuck his foot right in his mouth in that meeting and told Atomic everything. He would have played hero to keep me from taking the fall.
And webothwould have lost our contracts.
At least this way he got his.
Besides, he’d probably moved on with his life. I bet he didn’t even remember what it was like to play with me at this point.
I reached over and turned on the radio, needing a distraction.
“Shows going on tonight! The first is a big one, folks. Connor Wheating, new star on Atomic Records, is making his debut as a solo artist right here in Nashville. You might remember hearing about the road trip tour he did with Olivia Johns in Montana. Well, now it’s your turn to see him! He’ll be at Ole Red tonight. Curtain is at 7. You know how it works: that’s first come, first serve, and I’m betting you’ll need to get there early if you want a spot. Connor’s fixing to be a big star and this is his smallest performance on the tour. Get there and have some chicken, and enjoy the show!”
I reached out and turned the radio off again.
Connor was performing in Nashville tonight. At a bar where we would have performed together on the road. He was going to be here. Okay sure, I knew he’d been in town this entire time, but still…
I hadn’t really known where he was the last three months.
And now I did.
I looked at the clock and saw that it was already 7:30. The jock was right: That place was going to fill up quickly. It always did. And he’d already been playing for half an hour, which meant his show was almost halfway done.
I might not even get in. I definitely wouldn’t get a seat, and I might not get there in time to hear anything more than his encore.
I’d kill to see him perform again.
I was out of my chair and moving again before I could think twice, grabbing my keys on my way out the door and then a coat as well, and darting down the steps of the house seconds later. I shoved the keys—which had a keychain featuring a van matching the one we’d driven in Montana—in my pocket and headed for my car.
It sounded like I had a show to see tonight, and I wanted to make sure I got to hear at least one song.
CHAPTER30
Olivia
By the time I got to the bar it was already 8 and I was terrified he was going to leave the stage before I even got into the bar. Wouldn’t that just be my luck. The one show he was playing in Nashville and I was going to miss it because I hadn’t known about it.
That was what I got for trying to ignore all the press about him.
I parked the car in an illegal spot, Future Me hating the thought of the ticket I was going to get, and ran for the door. I could see that the place was packed, but I was a small person.
I could still fit.
I shoved my way past the two burly bouncers and started ducking and weaving, working the way any small person has to work to make progress through a crowd. Finally I found myself at the bar itself, and there was an empty seat.
Wonder of wonders.
I boosted myself up onto it so I could see over the heads of everyone else in the bar. And then I took a chance and actually stood up on the seat for an even better view.
There he was. Connor was up on the stage by himself, just him and his guitar. Loose jeans and a tight t-shirt, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat on his head. It was a small venue, so though there were lights on him he was still close to the crowd. Close enough to see and talk to them, laugh when they made a joke.
God, he looked good. Nothing had changed about him over the last three months. He still had those broad shoulders for carrying the world and those rough rancher’s hands. His smile was quick and his stance casual. He looked natural up there. He looked happy.
He probably was, I realized. He had everything he wanted and he was staring at a bright, successful future. He didn’t need me hanging around his neck.
I thought about getting down off the barstool and leaving right then, before he could see me. I didn’t want to rain on his parade or make him feel bad. Maybe I didn’t have to see him perform after all.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” he said suddenly, like he was speaking right to me.
