Page 137 of Pink and Country

“B reaking news, April Simmons, Carter Hills’s new love interest, has a shady past. She’s well-known for dating millionaires and ripping them off. We’re not done hearing about the bad boy of country music just yet. Carter Hills should definitely go back to recording music and stay away from crazy fangirls.”

“Savannah Prince is heartbroken over the news Carter Hills dumped her months ago to date April Simmons, known for benefiting from the money of her rich lovers. It’s not the first time Ms. Simmons had pulled off this kind of sham. When she was twenty-one, she tried to rip off her rich husband, who died under mysterious circumstances one week after their secret nuptials. Ms. Prince worries for Carter Hills. She fears his sex addiction is blinding him to a relationship that could hurt him in the long run and leave him in debt. Carter Hills, through a press release, has denied the story, stating those false accusations could lead to a lawsuit. We’re still waiting to hear from Ms. Simmons herself. Stay tuned for more details.”

“Carter Hills is not out of the woods. Best known for bad press and scandals in the last few years, he relapsed. This time, by dating a gold-digger after his money. The one he himself called his muse a few weeks back. The hashtag “golddiggerApril” is trending since late last night. Carter Hills’s fans are clear; they want the new ladylove out of the picture. The country star should focus on his music, the thing he has a God-given talent for, and avoid dating for a while. Or until he gets his life back on track. We interviewed Savannah Prince, his ex-girlfriend, who’s worried about him.”

“I’ll always love Carter. He’s been acting erratic for over a year now. Carter, if you hear me, please get professional help. I’ve done everything in my power to assist and take care of him, but it wasn’t enough, as you can see. I met Ms. Simmons once. You could easily say she had a tight hold on him. She crept under his skin and messed with his head. And his better judgment. Carter is not the same man I used to date. He’s lost. Carter, I love you. I always will.”

* * *

The TV remote hit the wall before I could process what I did. I screamed my pain, my anger, my distress. “Enough with this life.”

My team left thirty minutes ago. I hadn’t had time to deal—really deal—with the aftermath of this shitshow until now.

I lost April. I fucking lost her.

She ran away, scared and broken. I couldn’t even hold it against her. No doubt I would’ve done the same if I’d been in her shoes. My world sucked. It could bring you to the top one day and destroy you and everything you loved the next. I promised April I’d always protect her, and I failed. I fucking failed.

I cursed, opening the kitchen cabinets in search of a whiskey bottle. My mouth watered. The urge to drink my weight in liquor hadn’t been that strong in years. With my foot, I kicked the last cabinet door shut—my search futile—and came back to my senses. Drinking wouldn’t do me any good. It wouldn’t bring the love of my life back, nor would it make the media shut their fucking mouths about our relationship.

They could say anything they wanted against me; I didn’t care. However, April didn’t deserve any of it. The description those gossip trash made of her couldn’t be further from the truth. I punched myself mentally. How could April leave me behind? After everything we’d both been through. The air I breathed, laced with fury, scorched my larynx. I paced the entire first floor. April’s scent lingered in every room.

Come back to me.

Don’t leave.

We’ll figure this out. Together.

I wrote countless text messages but erased them all.

This can’t be happening. I threw my phone at the wall of the living room, shattering the screen.

“Fuck,” I growled. Breaking my phone wouldn’t do me any good if April ever tried to contact me. If she ever changed her mind. Damn it.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The lead in my stomach drew all my organs down, piling them into a mushy clump.

My head pounded. My breathing hitched in my lungs. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I balanced myself against the wall.

“If you love me, you’ll let me go.” That’s what she said. History repeated itself. Fucking joke.

An episode was coming. April leaving triggered the anxious part in me. Nothing I’d do would prevent it. My stomach was tied in a web of knots, and I balled my hands in fists, my palms turning into a bloody mess as my fingernails tore my flesh.

My heart had been ripped out of my chest.

Trampled on.

Left for dead.

Darkness blanketed me, and I lost touch with everything around me.

* * *

I leaned forward, my hands on my knees, my chest muscles working hard to catch some much-needed air. Every breath skinned the lining of my lungs. I shut my eyes and enjoyed the spring breeze against my face. Breathless, I sat on the ground, over a patch of dried pine needles. With my knees folded and my ankles crossed, I looked around. There was no more trace of the harsh winter weather anywhere.

Should I go back to Nashville? April left a week ago, and my cabin seemed empty without her. I still smelled her lavender perfume in every room. Yesterday, I came home after running errands and pictured her in the den, a cup of tea in hand and Bernice curled in her lap. The other morning, I patted the bed when I woke up, hoping I’d dreamed the whole breakup thing and she was asleep beside me. Mirages. None of it was real. I let out an earth-shattering shrill. I screamed until the back of my throat tingled, and my body collapsed. All this pain, this sadness, cast a shadow over my entire life. My hopes. My dreams. My future.

I lifted my arm and checked the time on my brand-new phone strapped in an armband around my bicep. June ordered the new device after I ruined the other one. Ten twenty-one. I’d been running for over two hours. Where did I get all this energy? I’d barely eaten anything in the last week and had enough fingers to count the total number of hours I slept. My house was a three-story garbage kingdom. Dirty clothes and used food containers lingered everywhere. Who had time to clean or do laundry with a broken heart? Not me. Most nights, I avoided my bedroom as if it were haunted. Sure enough, April’s ghost was everywhere.