Page 50 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

Gia moved as fast as she could to get out of there, the label “tramp” echoing in her ears. When the front door knob wouldn’t turn, she could feel the panic quicken in her chest, the sound of her own heart pounding in her ringing ears. Her mother was the tramp, her years of stripping and drugs eventually killing her. She was nothing like her late mother. How could Mr. Parker judge her like that?

“Gia!” Hart wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her against the door as she flailed. “Gia, no! Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what happened!”

Beating her fists against his rock-hard abs, she knew she was no match for his strength and eventually gave up in his arms. “Get me out of here,” she begged, hiding her face in his shirt. The door opened, and they stumbled out onto the front porch, Hart practically carrying her to the car. When she was finally inside the vehicle, through hazy tears, she watched him fumble for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to text my sister and tell her to find a ride. Don’t worry. I told her everything. Maybe she can talk some sense into our stupid father.” He hunched over the phone, his normally perfectly combed hair tousled from the episode. Movement caught her eye out of her peripheral vision, and she turned her head to look out the window. Mrs. Parker, Katie, and Clay had come out on the front porch. She tensed in terror, not ready to confront them.

“Please, Hart. Get me out of here. Please!”

In a split second, he revved the car and peeled out of the driveway, the image of Mrs. Parker with her hand splayed across her chest something she would never forget. Hart gripped the steering wheel, looking anxiously over at her. “Don’t let what my father said ruin everything, Gia. He always does that. He assumes the worst and makes life a living hell. Don’t listen to him!”

Gia couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She wanted to get as far away from the happy, shiny country-club family as she could. There was no chance in hell she would ever be welcome like Clay Watkins. He was lucky—and a successful, Grammy-award-winning, super-rich, country music star. And what was she? A broke dance teacher. A Marilyn Monroe and Madonna impersonator. A ballerina wanna-be. A homeless orphan. A tramp, according to Hart’s father.

They drove in silence the rest of the way, Gia mulling over her next move. She needed space—time away from everyone and everything that had happened. Life was happening so fast, and she was losing her grip on her new reality. But where could she go? Angel had always said she was welcome, but she was living with her boyfriend. Imposing on them was something she didn’t want to do. Her friend Ethan might be an answer. They had a lot of work to do with the upcoming opening of the show at the City Springs Theatre. Maybe he could take her in. She could always stay in the storage closet at her studio for the remainder of the month, but Hart would be relentless and hound her if he found out. By the time they got back to Katie’s condo, Gia had made up her mind.

“Don’t leave,” Hart whispered, putting the car in park.

Gia couldn’t face him. “I need some time to think, Hart. Everything suddenly got very complicated.”

“No, it didn’t!” He stretched his arm across the interior of the car and grabbed her hand. “We’re the same two broken people who need each other, now more than ever before.”

Gia closed her eyes, the brokenness consuming her.

“Please, give us a chance. Don’t listen to my dad or anyone else. Listen to me. I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she tried to be strong. “Just give me some time, Hart. That’s all I’m asking. If you truly love me, you’ll back off.” When she turned to look at him, her breath caught at the sight of his expression. He looked so sad. She was on an emotional roller coaster and had to get off before she jumped. “I’ll get my things.”

***

Hart lay in the double bed, taking a long pull from the whiskey bottle. He couldn’t help but inhale the scent of the pillow he held in his arms over and over, Gia’s essence comforting him in his state of shock.

She was gone.

He watched in horror as she quickly packed up her belongings and loaded them into her car. When he tried to approach her with a goodbye hug, she stopped him with her open palm in front of her body.

“I can’t right now,” she whispered, barely making eye contact. It took everything in his power not to get on his knees and beg her to stay.

“When will I see you again?” he asked in one last attempt to communicate before she drove off.

“I don’t know. I’m going to be busy with the show. Maybe after opening? I’ll be in touch.”

“That’s almost two weeks from now. Are you kidding me?” The severity of the situation was becoming apparent.

“I don’t know, Hart. Just… just wait for me to get in touch with you. I need time.”

Watching her car drive away, all he could feel was the familiar rage creeping into his bones. As much as he wanted to follow her, he didn’t. There was only one escape for him—booze. Grabbing a bottle from the kitchen, he took the steps up to his room two at a time, stopping in the hallway and ramming his fist through the sheetrock.

He was sitting in the dark, the bottle between his legs when he heard a light tapping on the door.

“Hart?” The door opened, and he could see the shadowed figure of his sister in the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

He tipped the bottle up and chugged the rest before flinging it across the room, watching it shatter against the dresser.

“Stop it, Hart! Drinking isn’t going to bring her back!” Closing the door behind her, she flicked on the lamp, making him squint in the sudden bright light.

“Go away, Katie. Just leave me be,” he mumbled, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

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