Page 31 of Guitars and Mistakes
Anna, on the other hand, looked anything but messy. Her hair was neat and tidy, her eyeliner perfect, and she was writing in a journal like it was her freaking job. I didn’t think that girl knew how to take breaks. She was probably always planning something in her brain, getting ready for the next step.
She’d be perfect for Matt, who usually couldn’t keep track of both of his shoes.
If they made it work. I hadn’t asked him what was going on between them—didn’t really have time for anything but my own problems right now—and I wondered again if I should. Especially if I was going to be leaving the tour. I’d always been closer to Matt than the other guys, and a wave of guilt washed over me at the fact that I hadn’t even bothered to inquire about a girl he obviously found special.
Then again, I was a big enough jackass that I guess I should have expected it of myself. I’d go to the mats for Matt—for any of them—but I’d never been the one taking them chicken noodle soup when they were sick. It just wasn’t me. I didn’t know how to care for myself, much less other people.
One of Taylor’s assistants came around then, handing papers out to everyone, and I took mine and glanced at it. The truth was, I already knew what it was going to be. We’d run through the cities we’d already prepped for, which meant this was a new list of destinations.
I already knew what I’d see.
That didn’t make it any better.
Jonesboro was at the top of the list, right there above Kansas City. We were in the section of the tour where we hit the big cities, evidently. Not that I’d see any of that.
I’d thought we were still a couple stops away from Jonesboro, which was why I’d thought I could stick around for a couple more shows to support the band. I figured we had one or two small towns to get through before we hit the towering buildings and lights of Jonesboro.
The trailer parks on the outskirts of town.
The orphanage where women dumped their unwanted kids and probably never thought about them again. After they went back to their trailer park, where they probably still fucking lived.
I’d been willing to do the small towns leading up to Jonesboro. I wasn’t willing to do Jonesboro itself.
And just like that, my plans changed. I got up and made my way toward Taylor, who was sitting at the back of the bus. Dropping into the seat across from her, I reached over and grabbed her wrist.
She jerked and looked up at me like I’d just burned her, and maybe I had. I didn’t think I’d ever touched the woman before.
“I’m off the tour,” I told her bluntly.
She frowned. “You told me you’d do two more shows. We’ve been doing publicity based on that assumption.”
“And now I’ve changed my mind. I’m not playing Jonesboro. You’ll have to find someone else. As soon as we stop, I’ll find my own ride back to Nashville.”
I stood before she could answer and made my way back to my seat, popping in some earbuds and doing my best to telegraph to everyone that I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to lose myself in some music and forget about where we were going. Forget what had happened there—again and again and again.
And I didn’t need anyone else to try to try to pull me out of the slump I was heading for.
LILA
We got to Jonesboro quicker than we’d ever gotten to any other city, and though I thought that might be because Anna and I were on the official bus now, and therefore way more comfortable, one look at Rivers as he was leaving the bus told me that wasn’t true.
We got there so quickly because the universe was keeping me from working out a plan for what I was going to say to him.
I’d gotten onto said bus with one goal in mind: to come up with the right words for him. To maybe even approach him and try to draw him out in conversation. Ask him more about what had happened in Missouri. Find an opening for telling him what I’d figured out and getting him involved. By the time we stopped again I wanted to have my feet under me and know that I was doing the right thing when it came to Rivers.
Instead, the universe had sped time up to something that made no sense, and it had taken us about five minutes to get from one city to the next. And even if I’d had time to start a conversation with Rivers, his expression wouldn’t have encouraged it. He’d taken one look at the list of cities we were hitting next, his face darkening as quickly as a Tennessee sky when a storm was coming in, and had practically run for Taylor at the back of the bus. Whatever he’d said to her had made her face just as angry as his and he’d been back in his seat before I had time to make three guesses at what he might have told her. He’d spent the rest of the ride staring out the window like we were driving him right to his death.
It hadn’t been good for that whole brainstorming thing I was supposed to be doing. He looked furious and terrified at the same time, resigned and yet like he was waiting for someone to come save him from whatever was coming.
I mean, I knew where we were going, and I knew why it had him in such a mood. Or at least I thought I knew. Jonesboro was our next stop, and that city, according to Matt and my research, held not only the orphanage where Rivers and Matt (and Noah and Hudson) had been held, but also the foster families that had done Rivers so wrong.
It also, according to the email I received, held what was left of Rivers’ family.
Which of those things had him so upset, I wondered. Which was the worst piece of the puzzle? And why was he still dreading them so much when he was one of the biggest stars on the planet, renowned across the world for his husky voice and talent with a guitar? He was an adult now and didn’t have anything to fear from the city where he was born.
Why was it affecting him so deeply?
I’d hardly had the thought before we were pulling to a stop in the circle in front of a large hotel, the bus barely fitting under the overhanging roof. I put my feet down to the floor, getting ready to stand up, and was nearly knocked back by the body rushing past me.
