“What came over you, AnnieLee?” he asked. He didn’t sound furious anymore—he sounded tired and sad.

  She didn’t know what to say to him. At first she’d panicked when she saw that they were being followed. She knew who those men were and what they were capable of. But then she’d realized that they weren’t going to hurt her—not then, not with Ethan there to protect her. They were just sending her another message. Reminding her that they weren’t going to leave her alone. That no matter where she ran, they’d find her. And that in one way or another, they’d make her pay.

  Fine, she felt like screaming. I get the damn message.

  Ethan’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “You have to tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Is that because you don’t know? Or because you won’t tell me?”

  AnnieLee stared down at her feet. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her limbs, her legs began to tremble. She felt almost nauseous.

  Ethan dropped his hands. “Maybe I should call that Rolling Stone writer,” he said. “Maybe you’d be able to tell her what’s going on.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  “Not fair?” Ethan interrupted. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. You expecting me to be your sidekick and bodyguard but never—”

  “I didn’t ask you to do that! Ruthanna did,” AnnieLee said, interrupting him right back.

  “And you hated every second, didn’t you?” he said, glaring at her. “You resented all the free rides home after your shows. You couldn’t stand how I showed you around Nashville and helped you find a house to rent and furniture to fill it up. You couldn’t stand my company.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she protested.

  “Did you know that I used to sit outside that crappy motel room of yours until you fell asleep? You thought you were so brave to stay there. But the whole time I was out in the parking lot like a guard dog. Protecting you.”

  AnnieLee inhaled sharply, as if she’d been punched. Of course she hadn’t known. But what made him think he had the right to make her feel bad about something she’d never asked him to do? Instead of gratitude, she felt only anger.

  “Well, you were on the clock, weren’t you?” she said. “I’m sure Ruthanna paid you for your time. So the more hours you were watching me the better, right?”

  Ethan turned away from her then. “Wow,” he said. “I really don’t know what to say.”

  AnnieLee kicked a toe into the gravel. “Maybe you don’t enjoy your babysitting job anymore. Maybe you want to quit.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she couldn’t believe she was saying them. She didn’t want him to quit. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

  Ethan took a step backward. His dark eyes grew darker. “If I quit now, you’ll have to find your own way home,” he warned.

  But she couldn’t back down. “Great,” she said, tossing her head back. “I’ve missed bumming rides from strangers.”

  He took another few steps away. “AnnieLee…” he began.

  “Just go.”

  She could tell that he didn’t want to go any more than she wanted him to. But they were each stuck inside their own anger, and neither of them was going to give in.

  “Go on,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’ve done a lot of worrying about you,” he said. “But I’ll try to quit that, too.”

  Then he walked away, climbed into his truck, and peeled off, spraying gravel behind him. And AnnieLee trudged back out to the road, pasted a bright, fake grin on her face, and stuck out her thumb.

  Chapter

  52

  Give me a chance, girl, open your eyes now, I’m not the enemy here

  I’m a soft heart to lean on

  A shoulder to cry on

  Two good lips to kiss away tears

  Ethan carefully folded up the lyrics he’d written on the back of an envelope. The song was a good one. But could it ever be true? Would AnnieLee ever really give him a chance?

  Today he highly doubted it. He hadn’t wanted to drive away from her, but she’d challenged his pride and forced his hand.

  He thought back to the night he’d watched AnnieLee charm her way onto the Cat’s Paw stage. If he’d known the havoc she’d wreak on his heart, would he still have introduced himself?

  He could practically hear his grandma tsk-tsking him from heaven. Yes, you would have, because when it comes to love you don’t have the sense God gave a goose.

  He picked up an old rag and began oiling the fretboard and bridge of the guitar he’d finished right before leaving for LA. He was trying to keep his mind open and empty, but the lyrics he’d tucked away kept swirling around in his thoughts.

  Demons, demons, we’ve both had enough of our own

  Demons, demons, we don’t have to fight them alone

  “I like that a lot,” said a voice. “It’s catchy.”

  Ethan spun around, startled by two things at once: that he’d begun to sing out loud without realizing it, and that Ruthanna Ryder was standing in his driveway, dressed as if she was about to have Easter brunch with the queen.

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot, gazing up at the little apartment above his workshop. “So this is home, huh?”

  Ethan smoothed his hair back and put aside the guitar. “For now,” he said.

  “I thought I paid you better,” she mused.

  “Please,” he said. “You pay me plenty. I don’t want anything more than this.”

  She turned her cool green eyes back to him. “But desire, Ethan, is where it all begins. If you don’t want more, you don’t get more.”

  He looked away. He wanted plenty of things, when it came down to it. But a bigger apartment wasn’t one of them.

  Then Ruthanna’s face softened. “It looks like a nice place,” she said. “Anyway, I had to come over because I broke the peg on my mandolin.” She pulled a vintage instrument with a Florentine cutaway out of her handbag. “I thought you could fix it.”

  Ethan took the mandolin from her and knew instantly that this wasn’t at all why she’d come. The instrument was student quality. She had a dozen better ones. This meant that she’d come because she’d spoken to AnnieLee, and the repair was only the excuse.

  “Can you fix it?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Of course.” He set it gently on his worktable.

  Ruthanna folded her arms across her chest and looked at him. “So,” she said, “you quit, huh?”

  Ethan didn’t bother defending himself by pointing out that AnnieLee had basically dared him to quit. “I don’t think I should be her…whatever I was…anymore. It turns out we don’t get along.”

  “Sounds like a lovers’ quarrel, if you ask me,” Ruthanna said, looking at him sideways.

  Ethan snorted. “Hardly.”

  “It was nice of you to drop her bags off after she had to Lyft home,” Ruthanna said.

  Lyft, Ethan thought. Is that what she said she did?

  And though Ruthanna was being sarcastic, he wouldn’t take the bait. “Well, I’m nice. Too nice,” he said. “Girls don’t like the nice ones.”

  Ruthanna gave a great, braying laugh, and then she pointed a long pink nail at him. “Number one, that’s a load of BS about girls. Number two, you’re not that nice. And number three, I’ve got a job for you that’ll help you prove exactly how not nice you are.” She stepped closer and jabbed the nail into his chest. “You’re going to talk to Mikey Shumer and find out what he knows about that black truck.”

  Ethan exhaled slowly. So this visit wasn’t really about his argument with AnnieLee after all.

  He knew Mikey Shumer—or knew of him, anyway. Mikey took talented, unknown singers and shaped them into hitmakers, skimming as much as he could from every check along the way. He drove a Mercedes-Benz SL65 AMG that cost upwards of two hundred grand, and he owned a fleet of vintage Mustangs and a penthouse condo in the Gulch. Meanwhile, his newest artists struggled to make rent, and he’d run at least two other managers out of town with threats and harassment. Ethan had encountered Mikey only once, but he knew him instantly for the kind of man who’d buy you drinks at a bar and then have you beaten to a pulp in the parking lot if it suited him.

  In other words, this wasn’t going to be a job Ethan would enjoy.

  Ruthanna waited with uncharacteristic patience for him to say something.

  Ethan picked up the rag and the guitar and started polishing again. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Ruthanna said. “I knew I could count on you. Just…be careful.”

  “If he’s scaring AnnieLee, he’s the one who’s going to need to be careful.” Angry as Ethan was at her, he didn’t want anyone messing with her.

  “See? I knew you were the protective type,” she said.

  “You know just about everything, don’t you?” he said.

  Ruthanna flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’ve been around the block once or twice.” She turned to go. “And I meant what I said about that song you were singing. I think it’s got real potential.”

  Chapter

  53

  Sir, you can’t go back there,” the secretary called, but Ethan was already striding down the office hallway, looking for Mikey Shumer. He was almost to his door when two of the biggest men he’d seen since the army materialized out of nowhere to block his path.

  He pulled up short, sighing. He should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy.

  Ethan took a step backward, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I’m here to see Mikey Shumer.”

  “Mr. Shumer’s busy right now,” the mustached one said. His face looked as if it’d been carved from granite.

  The bald man, who was shorter, just as muscular, and ugly as a box of armpits, said, “Gotta make an appointment, pretty boy.”

  Ethan hated being called pretty boy even more than AnnieLee hated being called little, but he pretended he hadn’t heard. There was still a chance that this interaction would end well. “I need to speak with him now.”

  “That’s not possible,” said Baldy.

  “Real sorry, bro,” said Mustache.

  Ethan felt his hands clench into fists. He was coming up on the point of no return, and though he’d wanted to keep things civil, he wasn’t leaving without talking to Shumer. He said, “I don’t think you’re sorry, and you definitely ain’t my bro.”

  “That’s it.” The bald man slapped his enormous hand around Ethan’s biceps and tried to shove him back in the direction he’d come, but Ethan shook him off. Mustache made to grab his other arm, but Ethan was done being touched by these goons. He swung at Mustache. The blow glanced off his jaw, but the attack took him by surprise, and he stumbled backward. The bald one reacted quickly, shooting a straight jab at Ethan’s face. Ethan ducked, coming up again and bringing an uppercut from way down low to connect with Baldy’s chin. Ethan’s knuckles exploded in pain as he heard the man’s teeth snap together. His head went back, he wobbled for a moment, and then he was on the floor.

  Again Ethan faced Mustache, who was wary now, dancing around like a boxer. Big guys like these weren’t used to being hit. But Ethan didn’t have the time or inclination for a boxing match. He lunged forward, grabbed the man by the back of the head, and yanked Mustache’s head down as he brought up his knee. Blood from the man’s nose soaked Ethan’s jeans.

  The fight was over after that, and Ethan burst into Mikey’s office, watching as the manager’s face twisted under a barrage of emotions: disbelief, fury, and a grudging admiration.

  “What the hell?” Mikey said from his chair behind his desk.

  “They came at me first,” Ethan said. He rubbed his sore knuckles. “I hate fighting, so I got it over with as quick as I could.”

  Mikey gave a low whistle. “Do you know the kind of retaliation I’m capable of?”

  Ethan said, “I do,” and left it at that.

  Mikey looked down at his fists as if he was wondering if he should give them a go. But instead he cracked the top of a Red Bull and took a long drink. Then he said, “You must be a fighter.”

  “I boxed in the army,” Ethan said.

  “Class?”

  “Middleweight.” Ethan marveled that they suddenly seemed to be having a normal conversation, as if there weren’t two giants in the hallway that Ethan had personally KO’d because he wanted to speak with Mikey without an appointment.

  “Maybe I should hire you as my muscle instead of those jokers,” Mikey mused.

  “I don’t think you’d like me,” Ethan said.

  “I like everyone, as long as they do what I want them to.”

  Ethan decided that there’d been enough chatter. “Are you harassing AnnieLee?” he said. “Because if you’re trying to scare her into switching management and signing with your crooked operation, it’s not going to work.”

  “Did Joe hit you in the head before he went down?” Mikey got up from his chair and walked over to the window. “Of course I’m not. I wouldn’t waste my time.”

  “You wanted to work with her.”

  “I did, and if she was as smart as she thinks she is she would’ve signed with me,” Mikey said. “But I don’t hold a grudge.”

  “Yeah, that’s what everyone in town says about you, especially the guy you dangled out a third-story window because you thought he was trying to poach your talent. ‘Mikey Shumer, he’s a real forgiving guy.’”

  Mikey laughed. “You know what I think?” he said. “I think Ruthanna Ryder’s getting paranoid. She’s got no more career to keep her busy, so she cooks up conspiracy theories and sends you out to investigate them. How do you feel about being her errand boy?” He pitched his empty can into the wastebasket. “I hear you’re a good musician. You ever try to do something with yourself besides dive bar open mics?” he asked. “I started Will Rivers, you know. He can only play about five chords, but his voice is good, and now he’s got girls running up to him and asking him to sign their tits. Who knows? Maybe that could be you someday.”

  “No, thanks,” Ethan said. “I’m good.”

  Mikey gave a dismissive wave. “You probably don’t have what it takes to make it, anyway,” he said. “Your little friend does. It’s her loss she went with that old fossil Jack Holm.”

  “Well,” Ethan said, “thanks for your time.”

  “Whatever,” Mikey said. “Just don’t let me see you around here again.”

  As Ethan moved to the door, he braced himself for an ambush. He figured he could sustain a few hits to the chest or stomach; he just didn’t want to get punched in the face.

  But when he got outside Mikey’s office, the hallway was empty. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Have a nice day,” the secretary said as Ethan left.

  Chapter

  54

  AnnieLee walked along the Cumberland River, which ran green-brown and slow as it wound through Nashville. She passed joggers and dog walkers, little kids toddling behind their parents, and an old married couple creeping along with the aid of walkers. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and she was trying to wake herself up with a giant coffee and a scone from the café on Commerce Street. So far it wasn’t exactly working.

  After a while she turned off the path and ducked into the trees, where little spots of shade provided relief from the sun, already blazing at 10 a.m. She was humming the song she’d almost thrown away—the one about the girl who’d hated being ignored until she found out that being noticed was worse.

  I was invisible, invisible

  Like shade at midnight, a ghost in the sunlight

  Some songs came to her so fast it was like being jumped in an alley; others took months of frustration and hard work. Encouraged by Ruthanna, AnnieLee had been working on this one for weeks, and she’d even played it in public. The experience had been nerve-racking for reasons she didn’t want to dwell on.

  Not to be cliché, but you could have heard a pin drop when you sang it. That was what Ethan had said, back when he was still talking to her.

  But AnnieLee was resolutely not thinking about Ethan Blake this morning, because she’d already spent all night doing so. Every time her thoughts drifted in his direction, she pulled them back to the song. Something about the bridge wasn’t right yet, and maybe the third verse wasn’t so hot, either. She sang it softly, feeling the words take shape in her mouth as she kept walking, not paying attention to where she was going.

  But then I grew up pretty and I grew up wild

  Didn’t look no more like a hungry child

  Her phone rang, startling her. It was Jack.

  “Are you sitting down?” he asked.

  She felt her breath catch in her throat. “What’s wrong?”

  Jack’s laugh came booming into her ear. “Nothing’s wrong, kid,” he said. “Like I said, you sittin’?”

  AnnieLee shook her head, though he couldn’t see her. “No.”

  “Well,” he said, “you ain’t got far to fall, I guess. So listen up. I’ve got you a chance to open up for Kip Hart.”

  AnnieLee gasped. Kip Hart had over a dozen certified gold albums, twice that many top ten singles, and his catchy “Live Fast, Love Hard” was Billboard’s number one country song of the previous year. She leaned against the nearest tree and then slid down it. Now she was sitting.

  “You’re kidding,” she breathed.

  “No, not kidding. Congratulations,” Jack said. “You’ve got a date in Knoxville, and if it goes well, which I know it will, there’ll be more.”

  AnnieLee squeezed her eyes shut tight and squealed like a little girl on Christmas. “Sorry,” she said. “Did that hurt your ears?”

  “Honey, I blew out my eardrums long ago,” Jack said. “A hazard of the music business. I’m glad you’re happy—you should be. Anyway, kid, I have to run. We’ll do the details later.” And then he was gone.

  Holding back another scream of delight, AnnieLee opened her eyes as a crow squawked from a branch above. She looked around her, and suddenly she realized where she was: right near that smooth patch of dirt underneath the big old elm tree, the spot where she’d spent her first cold and lonely nights in Nashville.