Page 25 of Rising Star

I froze as I entered the dim-lit room. So many people were there.

Carter and April, Dahlia Ellis—Carter’s ex-bandmate and best friend—and her husband Nick chatted with Devon in one corner. Dylan Daughtry and Trevor McLachlan, two country stars I considered close friends, chatted with Aisha and Gavin by the bar. Dozens of other people from the industry were scattered across the room.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked as I stepped closer to my friends and hugged them, happiness waltzing through me.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, man. You were great up there. It suited you. As if you’ve done it before.”

I elbowed Carter in the ribs as he let out a warm chuckle after his quip.

“Ohmygod, the last song was so emotional. Did you know about the video?” April asked. “You looked to be in total shock.”

“Because I was. I had no idea.”

“Well, I was a crying mess. That was beautiful,” Dahlia chimed in.

“Thanks,” I croaked out, another surge of emotions building in my throat. “How have you been, Dah? It’s been a long time.”

“Great. I’m glad I didn’t miss your big return. Next time you guys are spending time together, we’ll try to be there. I’m sorry we missed your birthday.”

“It’s okay. I know how crazy life can get. I’m happy you came tonight. It was good seeing you. Gimme half an hour. I’ll say hello to everybody and be back so we can catch up,” I said, leaving them as Riley joined us.

Four hours later, I entered my hotel suite and perused the empty space around me. A set of leather couches, a small kitchen with a dining table by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a bar along the wall leading to what I assumed were the bedroom and bathroom. With its ten-foot-high ceilings, wooden-planked floor, and dark-colored artworks decorating the walls, the sumptuous suite—too big for one man—missed some liveliness. Everything was immaculate, a contrast to my home where toys, glitter, and princess outfits brought a touch of life to every room. Here, the reality of my loneliness weighed heavier than it ever had before. In the last two years, I’d never been away from home. Somehow, I doubted I would ever get used to the pristine and superficial decor of hotel rooms again.

Being here felt wrong. My children were with a nanny instead of their parents. Their mother should have been the one caring for them. Kissing them goodnight. And tucking them into their beds.

Adrenaline still ran in my bloodstream, not letting me close my eyes and surrender myself to sleep. I craved a diversion. Something to keep my mind busy.

Music was my drug of choice.

I doubted any junkie could go to bed after shooting their best stuff up their arm.

Dressed in a pair of washout denims and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt, I made my way to the hotel bar. I looked at the time. Twenty minutes until last call.

I sat on a stool by the bar and ordered a whiskey.

“Make it a double,” I told the bartender.

I fidgeted with the paper coaster as he poured the drink before me. I chugged half of it in one gulp, relishing the burning sensation down my throat. With my hand, I addressed the bartender. “Hit me again.”

I closed my eyes and listened to the mellow song playing in the almost-empty bar as I nursed the rest of my first drink. Slower this time.

The alcohol relaxed me.

I could breathe easier.

My thoughts moved far away from the two little girls waiting for me at home.

“You want company?” a woman, about my age, dressed in a short cobalt dress asked as she took the stool next to mine.

“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my gaze low.

“You sure? You look lonely.” We exchanged small smiles. “Here for business?”

I cringed at the interruption but answered. “Sorta. What about ya?”

“My sister’s wedding. She’s the worst. I was supposed to stay at her place tonight, but she went all bridezilla at her maid of honor. Got the hell out of there before it was my turn.” She let out a laugh that warmed my insides.

I raised my glass. “Cheers to getting away. Crazy brides-to-be are the worst.”