pushing all sorts of fluids into you, so you might be a little puffy for tomorrow’s show. I’ll have Simone give you a little extra room in your costumes, okay, sugar? No worries there.”
“Tomorrow?” Distress colored her voice. “What do you mean?”
“Darlin’, the show must go on, as they say. Docs have assured me that you’re right as rain, all you needed was a good night’s rest and so I went ahead and rebooked your canceled show. Get this,” he said, excited. “We’re even more booked than before. Seems collapsing is good for ticket sales. Who would’ve thought? Anyway, you just focus on getting some good shut-eye and then we’ll get you back on that stage where you belong.” Back onstage? Laci wanted to scream, but she nodded instead. Trent’s stare narrowed at her lackluster response. “Is there a problem?”
I’m not ready to go back onstage. I need a break. Can’t you see that? The words bubbled on her tongue and when she opened her mouth, she really thought she was going to push them out, but instead, something lame popped out. “I’m just wore out. I’ll be fine by tomorrow night,” she promised, and in that moment, she hated herself for being a weak caricature of who she used to be. Where was her spirit? Her fire? Laci McCall didn’t used to be such a pushover. Somewhere along the way she’d sacrificed that innate quality for fame and fortune and it felt just as sickening as it sounded in her head. And yet...she continued to nod and assure her manager that all was going to be all right. Pathetic.
Trent, mollified, chucked her chin gently the way he would a kid’s and smiled. “That’s my girl. Rest up, angel, we’re back on track tomorrow.”
Laci held her weak smile until he left the room, but as soon as the door closed behind him, she dropped the smile like a lead weight. She couldn’t take the stage. She just couldn’t. Not yet. She needed...hell, she didn’t know what she needed anymore. All she did know was that if she didn’t get away from Trent and all the trappings of fame, she was going to die.
A tear oozed from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.
“You okay?”
The memory of a boy, handsome as sin, with hair too long and a reluctant smile too sweet, invaded her thoughts.
Times were hard, she knew, but she hadn’t expected her daddy to drop her off and leave for the summer as he had. During the summer, her daddy logged in the high country to squirrel away cash for the harsh Kentucky winter. This time, he’d dropped her off with Cora and Warren Bradford, an older couple he’d known for a long time and apparently trusted with his only child. But damn it, her daddy needed her and it didn’t feel none too good to be left behind with strangers, even if they were nice folk.
The boy, a year older than her at sixteen, climbed the ladder to join her in the hayloft. His blue eyes were something else, almost too pretty for a boy, and when he flipped his dark hair out of his eyes as he dropped beside her, her breath caught. His name was Kane Dalton—he and his brother, Rian, were ranch hands for the Bradfords—and he set her heart to jammin’ like a bluegrass picker with a jug of moonshine.
He wiped at the tear on her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’,” she lied with a forced smile. “Just missing my daddy, I guess.”
“He seems like a good man,” Kane said, trying to soften the blow at being left behind. “At least he’s doing something to put food on the table. My old man couldn’t care less if his kids eat. All he cares about is where he’s getting his next drunk, you know?”
She nodded, realizing she was being whiny and selfish. She’d seen the bruises on Kane and Rian, knew that their home life was worse off than they liked anyone to know. Her daddy worked harder than anyone she knew just to keep them afloat and here she was crying like a slapped baby because he’d left her behind. She braved a smile for Kane, which wasn’t hard because he created sunshine in her soul, and asked playfully, “Kane Dalton, you always know just what to say. What’s your secret?”
The blue of his eyes darkened as he ducked his head briefly before returning to her gaze, nothing boylike in that stare as he answered with an honesty that rang in her soul like crashing bells. “No secret, Laci-girl. Just tellin’ it like it is. I would never lie to you, that’s the God’s honest truth. I never would.”
And then he kissed her.
Sweet, simple, perfect.
Laci opened her eyes, still lost in the reminiscence that’d come out of nowhere. The lingering scent of hay and summer heat remained lodged in her nostrils as the memory of her first kiss blazed through her thoughts and occupied every nook and cranny of her mind.
Kane Dalton.
Where are you, country boy?
The sting of loss pricked at her tender heart and she pushed away the feelings that came with the memory of Kane and those sweltering summers spent at the Bradford ranch together. He’d left her behind, up and went into the military without so much as a goodbye or an explanation of why. He couldn’t have sent a clearer message than if he’d tattooed it on her face that she was part of his past and definitely not part of his future.
Well, screw him. Why the hell was she thinking about Kane now? There were plenty of years between that heartache and today and she wasn’t going to drag herself down with the memory of that pain.
But one thing she did know—as she eased the IV needle from her arm with a wince—she wasn’t going to lie around in this bed a minute longer, just waiting for Trent to waltz back in and prop her up onstage again when she wasn’t ready to go back. Tossing the tubing aside, she kicked free from the white, sterile bedding and stood on wobbly feet to search out her clothes.
Oh, damn. Laci grimaced when she realized her glittering costume was all she had in the room, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from getting the hell out of Dodge for a while. Well, it is what it is, she thought, grabbing her costume and shimmying into it with a groan as it pinched and scratched. Bypassing her heels, she left her room, bold as you please, ignoring the concerned looks and puzzled glances from the nurses’ station, and walked right out the door.
KANE’S RENTED TRUCK kicked up dirt as he drove the familiar road to the Bradford ranch, breathing in the sweet smell of untamed earth and summer sun as a reluctant smile found his lips. He’d forgotten how good summer smelled in the South. There was something about the way a Kentucky summer reached into the soul and plucked a tune, even if he wasn’t open to listening. He hated Woodsville, but he had to admit, Kentucky was in his blood, even if he ran from it every single day of his life.
It was too easy to remember those wretched years as a boy, too young to avoid the beatings and too weak to prevent them, that made the breath catch in his throat and his shoulders tense. Dale Dalton was a rotten son of a bitch with a worse temper, and Kane hoped he was burning in hell for all the terror and misery he’d inflicted on his two sons. Frankly, Kane thought the old man had died too easy—a heart attack was too quick, over in a flash. Kane had been hoping for a slow, lingering cancer to eat Dale from the inside out, but no such luck. The lucky bastard had checked out with a single zap to the electrical system and it was lights out, sayonara.
The Bradford ranch came into view, an older ranch-style home with a generous wraparound porch and views of the green rolling hills and valleys carved by the river that snaked its way through Warren’s six-hundred-plus-acre
