Travis
I couldn’t stop thinking about her, running Friday night over and over again in my mind. What we’d shared in the limo had been heavy, and it had shifted something between us.
I’d never gone bareback before, but the moment she’d sank down on me, I didn’t want it to stop. It was heaven in its purest form. But that level of trust was something she’d never given me before, and I knew it unsettled her.
After four days of hearing nothing from her, and not seeing her at all around town, I was beginning to worry. I gave in and texted her.
I want to see you again soon.
It didn’t take her long to reply.
Sorry Travis, I can’t this week. I’m working every day and I have to help Tessa and Elle with last minute wedding things.
I sat at the island in my kitchen, sulking at my phone. During my tenth read through, Mom walked into the kitchen and gave me a peculiar look.
“What’s gotten into you lately?” she asked, walking around the length of the counter and pausing before me. She leaned against the counter, resting her arms on the marble surface. She was dressed in her uniform, ready to head out to her Thursday evening shift at the diner. “You’ve been sulking since you got back from Toronto.”
“I have not,” I retorted, even though I knew that’s exactly what I had been doing. I was desperate to talk to her, to make sure that she was okay—but it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over text message, and I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me showing up on her doorstep. I’d risk running into Braden.
“Who’s the girl?”
“What girl?” I asked, feigning surprise. Mom saw right through my bullshit and arched a brow. I deflated a little under her scrutiny. “Becky Miller.”
“Becky Miller?” Mom repeated, recognition flickering in her eyes.
“The one and only,” I sighed, scratching at the back of my head as I scowled down at my phone.
“How long has this been going on for?”
“On and off for the last four years or so,” I admitted. “It was supposed to be a one-night stand, but every time I come home we hook up again.”
Mom didn’t look impressed with my answer. She thought I played the field, and I didn’t like to give her any additional reasons to believe it. She didn’t like players, and rightfully so. My sperm donor had been a player. I didn’t begrudge her jumping to that conclusion, not with the tabloids blasting my latest escapades, but most of that stuff was fabricated.
They painted me as the country play boy, always with a new girl on my arm. Most of those girls the paparazzi caught me with were friends or fans, and I definitely hadn’t had sexual relations with any of the ones I’d been pictured with in the last two years. I was completely hung up on Becky.
She was my favourite song that I wanted to play over and over again and get lost in the chords.
“Before you give me shit, Mom, please know that it’s mostly Becky’s idea.”
Becky clung to her rules with all she had. In the past, we’d avoided being around each other and the group at the same time. When we couldn’t avoid it, we had to keep our distance. She didn’t want me talking to her, fearing that someone would pick up on what we were doing behind closed doors.
She didn’t want me coming by her house in case one of her brother’s saw me, or in case she had to explain my presence to Aiden. She wasn’t comfortable with my place for the same reason.
“Like I believe that,” Mom scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“It’s true.” My mother’s lack of faith in me stung, but I only had myself to blame. “She wanted the one-night stand, and she was the one who wanted to keep whatever we have going for us a secret. She’s terrified of commitment and dodges any attempt I make at moving things forward with us,” I sighed heavily, my eyes darting to the sliding doors that led to the wrap-around porch overlooking the lake.
Mom was quiet for several long moments; I could feel her eyes on me. “Just be patient, Travis. You’ve never been good at waiting…but it sounds like Becky needs your patience.”
I didn’t have to ask my mom how she knew that. Mom raised me all alone, without any assistance from family. She didn’t have one, and my bio dad hadn’t stuck around long enough to even give her a last name. Mom’s childhood wasn’t the greatest, and I knew she struggled to trust men too. If she was taking the time to give me advice, I’d take the time to listen to it.
“I’m being as patient as I can.” Mom was right: patience was never my strong suit. I was the kind of guy who preferred to go out and get what I wanted. It wasn’t so simple when it came to Becky. It had to be on her terms—it was the only way she’d feel comfortable.
My mask was securely in place when I rolled up the private road that led to Brock’s cabin and the beach. I eased the Mercedes to a full stop. Braden was the first person I encountered when I approached with my loot.
“Way to be inconspicuous.” He shook his head as he eyed my Mercedes, but I knew he was impressed. Braden was a mechanic and had always loved tinkering on vehicles, but I doubt he saw flashy six-figure sports cars often at the shop. Most people around here drove trucks or cars that could handle the massive dumpings of snow each winter.
“This is inconspicuous,” I shrugged, grinning. “I could have brought the Porsche.” Braden’s eyes brightened. He loved that thing, and so did every car nut within hearing distance.
Gordon sauntered over and threw his arm around my shoulders in greeting. “Where are your bodyguards tonight?” He asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Being famous enough to merit having bodyguards around could be frustrating—especially when your old best friends razzed you.
Paul was already back in Nashville, and Rob was still holed up at the motel he’d rented. Neither one of them were really needed for regular crowd management anymore, now that the stampede was over and tourism had begun to slow down.
“Not here. I figured we were far enough out in the middle of nowhere that nobody would come across us,” I answered.
“Fair enough, besides—they’re kind of buzzkills,” Gordon snorted, tossing back the rest of his beer.
“You’re telling me,” I sighed in agreement, taking in the transformed waterfront. String lights illuminated the entire beach area. Several chairs were arranged around the fire pit, with the fire already burning. The picnic tables were weighed down with food and there was an old wheel barrow with a wooden sign that read Beer Barrow. I nodded at Grady, Tommy, and Ben in greeting before my attention zeroed in on Brock.
“Hey! Groom guy! What the fuck is with this backwoods sausage fest!? Aren’t we supposed to celebrate your dwindling time as a free man by ogling strippers and shit?” I asked, placing the brown paper bag I’d brought down on the table and embracing my best friend in a one armed hug.
“Guess I got enough of a stripper show when you brought the Vegas escorts by O’Riley’s,” Brock responded smoothly, his lips twitching with a repressed grin. Fair enough. I tried not to wince at the reminder. “Hey, Grayson—this is my buddy Travis. Travis, this is Grayson Dixon.”
Recognition flashed as I appraised Brock’s friend, Grayson. His face and his name both seemed so familiar to me, but I’d met so many people over the course of my career that it was impossible to place him. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, tilting my head as I tried to figure it out.
“By proxy, yes,” Grayson replied, his eyes narrowing as he gave me a rather menacing scowl. His reaction to my question helped me place him, so I let it roll of me like water on a duck.
“Ah right, you’re Everly’s man right?” Grayson clenched his jaw and nodded once, the only response I could expect to get from him, if my memory served me right. “How the hell is she? Haven’t seen her in a while! I think the last time I saw her was at the 2014 Music Awards.”
“She’s good,” Grayson replied unwillingly, uncomfortable and pissed off at my line of questioning. I had to resist the urge to chuckle at him for seeing me as a threat.
Everly and I had done a few charity concerts together in the past. She had impressed me with her talent, and the fact that she hailed from a small town east of Toronto hadn’t hurt. She’d been very down to earth, and we became easy friends. But friends was all we ever were. She was fun and creative…but she had also been tragically distracted…as if her heart had been elsewhere. Two years ago, her sister died in a car crash and she left the music scene.
“Everly Daniels was the lead singer of Autumn Fields,” I explained, catching Brock and Braden’s bewildered expressions as they watched our exchange. “Will she be at the wedding?”
Grayson was silent for a moment before replying. “Yeah, she will.”
“Fucking eh! It’s a small world after all,” I joked, laughing. Grayson seemed less than thrilled with me, so I picked up the brown paper bag that contained one very expensive bottle of aged whiskey. “Anybody want a shot?”
By the end of the night—and after we’d consumed nearly the entire bottle of aged whiskey—Grayson had warmed up to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would be to turn the first-dance song I was going to sing solo into a duet with Everly as we sat around the fire pit slinging beers and smoking darts.
Once the idea came to me, I couldn’t let it go. Becky loved Autumn Fields, and it was a miniscule way I could show her I cared about her—I saw her, and I paid attention to the little things—like her CD collection in the car.
Plus, it benefited me. My music to date had mostly been about having a good time, but I was considering changing direction. I’d slipped in a few more romantic songs on my latest album, and I was toying with the idea of doing a duet. It was something I’d never done before, but the song was meant to be sung as a duet.
Everly’s voice had a folksy quality to it, and from a musical standpoint…we complemented each other nicely. It’d be a good test run to see how I sounded in a duet, before I made a massive fool of myself in the studio.
Some of the guys had retreated into their tents, but a few were fishing off the docks. Neither Grayson nor I felt like fishing, so we sat around the fire talking about how I knew Everly. We had a bit of a heart to heart, where I told him that I’d only ever seen Everly as a friend and a talented artist.
“Yeah, she’s talented,” he said, nodding in agreement. He stared into the fire and took another swig of the hundred year old whiskey we’d been drinking. He smiled a little, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.
“Do you think she ever misses it?” I asked. Sometimes, the thought would cross my mind. There was a time when I had truly believed I wouldn’t give it up for anything. But I knew without a doubt that I would give it up, if that’s what it took.
“Without a doubt,” Grayson admitted quietly. “She still writes and sings, and we’ve talked about it before and she calls it her prolonged pause. She wants to be home for Cadance, and she’s not ready to go back. Not yet, anyway.”
Leaning forward, I dipped my chin forward. “Do you think she’d help an old friend woo the girl of his dreams?” I asked hopefully.
“How?” he asked distrustfully.
“By singing a duet for the first dance song at Brock’s wedding.”
“I’ll ask,” Grayson said after a moment of consideration. “But no promises. Everly’s never met Brock before. She’s basically only coming because she knows we’re friends. I don’t have many of those,” he half-laughed. “I’m a bit of a dick.”
With another five days to kill before the wedding, I grew restless. I could hear the countdown in my head, and I needed to escape for a bit, so I took my mom to Nashville for a few days. Being in such close proximity to Becky and unable to see or talk to her was driving me mental. I needed to put a border between us for a few days, or I knew I’d blow our cover and jeopardize it all.
Mom had never been to Nashville, and it was fun seeing it all through her eyes, seeing the pride that reflected in them when she listened to the tracks on my new album in the studio.
I stopped in to see my usual stylist to get my hair cut for the wedding. I had it buzzed short at the sides, keeping it a little longer on top. My curls went with the shorter cut, but it was so much cooler in the thick humidity and summer heat.
We returned the night before the rehearsal dinner, and I counted down the hours until I saw her again.
The day before the wedding, everyone was supposed to meet at the Armstrong’s farm to set up and do a trial run of the ceremony. After that, everyone would head to The Dock for the rehearsal dinner.
I showed up early, hoping for a chance to talk to Becky, but she came last with Aiden in tow, who immediately darted over to the field where Tessa’s horses were grazing.
She grabbed a stack of linens and started to arrange them over the tables. I followed her, catching the other end of the tablecloth with my hands. I helped her direct it over the table and make sure that the sides were even in length.
“Are you okay?” I asked lowly, my eyes drinking in the sight of her, searching for an answer as we went about our task. We’d managed to cloth three tables before I could no longer hold back the flood of questions I had.
“I’m fine,” Becky responded, her gaze traveling across the room, noting where everyone was in relation to where we were. She shifted from foot to foot, her cheeks flushing prettily.
“Good, good,” I grinned. “Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”
“Yep,” Becky said, her lips popping on the ‘p’. She continued to avoid my gaze, moving on to the next table.
“Come home with me after?” I said with a wink and a smile that was far too hopeful.
She swallowed hard, finally dragging her eyes back to mine. The fury that swirled within her irises took me by surprise. “What, lose interest in your blonde friend so soon?” she demanded hotly.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, confused. She cast a nervous glance to where her brother stood with his bride-to-be.
“This is exactly why I called things off,” she muttered, shaking her head at me in disappointment before she turned on her heel and stomped off to help Elle with the centerpieces. I gaped after her, completely at a loss.
I wanted to follow her, beg her to talk to me and let me know what I did to piss her off so much, but I knew that would only aggravate her more, so I backed off and focused on doing my part. I continued to spread the tablecloths and set out the centerpieces.
Sue Thompson put her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. “Alright folks! Pastor Bruce is here. It’s time to do that trial run!” she called out, her voice projecting easily across the gleaming dance floor. We all shuffled outside to the field where we’d set up for the ceremony.
Gordon’s father and two brothers had set up the white chairs and the aisle while we’d set up the reception tent, and it looked great.
I had been to a lot of completely over the top weddings—celebrities with millions of dollars to spare had no qualms with spending a sickening amount of money. None of those weddings would hold a candle to the set up at the Armstrong farm for tomorrow.
Gordon and Tommy had created a wedding arbor made from thick birch branches which sat almost twenty feet away from the bush. It was minimalistic and somehow, completely perfect…completely Tessa and Brock.
It was beautiful, but all I could focus on was Becky’s hostility and her remarks. “Who’s my blonde friend?” I whispered while we waited for our turn to take a spin down the aisle.
“Like you don’t know,” she whispered back angrily. She wouldn’t look at me.
“I don’t, actually. Care to enlighten me?”
“We are not talking about this right now,” Becky hissed.
Pastor Bruce motioned us to move forward. Taking her arm, I escorted her down the aisle, my mind still whirling with the accusations she’d tossed at me. Becky didn’t look too pleased either. “Don’t forget to smile! This is a joyous day,” Pastor Bruce said, and both Becky and I forced smiles.
I had done something to disappoint her, that much was clear. But as I racked my brain, I couldn’t figure out why. I’d given her space because she said she was busy.
I released her arm and went to stand with Brock and Braden, my throat constricting as I watched Becky take her place beside Elle near the arbor. A few years ago, commitment and marriage weren’t even on my radar, and suddenly it was all I could think of and the person who’d finally sparked that interest and possibility seemed hell-bent on running every chance she got.
At the rehearsal dinner, Becky made sure to sit as far away from me as she possibly could, focusing all of her attention on literally everybody else but me.
I sat on the opposite side of the table, between Gordon and his cousin Cheyenne. Cheyenne was a slight little thing, long fair hair, delicate features, big green eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. We’d met a few times before, when she’d come to Parry Sound for a summer visit, but I’d never paid much attention to her before.
“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” she breathed, blinking up at me flirtatiously.
“It’s all good,” I shrugged. I could feel Becky’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. Turning, I caught her watching. She looked away the moment we locked gazes, but I’d seen the hurt in the depths of those cobalt blue eyes.
The evening was full of toasts and boisterous celebrating, but I couldn’t really get into it. I was happy as all hell for Brock and Tessa, but at a complete and total loss for how to handle the precarious situation with Becky.
My phone vibrated in my jeans. I pulled it out of my pocket, noticing I had a text message from Katie. All it contained was a link to an article on a celebrity gossip website. I clicked it, seeing several blurry pictures of me in Nashville. Then I read the headline;
Notorious playboy country singer Travis Channing was spotted back in Nashville earlier this week with a blonde beauty.
I snorted, shaking my head and sliding the phone back into my pocket. I looked up, catching Becky’s eye, and shook my head slightly. I was equal parts amused and pissed off.
Of course she’d seen the article and would have taken it the wrong way, but it stung that she’d sooner throw up walls than talk to me about it.
Shortly after dinner was served, Becky got up and headed to the bathroom. I waited a minute before standing up and walking to the hallway where the bathrooms were located. I leaned back against the wall, resting with my foot on it.
The hallway provided enough privacy that even if someone from our table looked over, they wouldn’t see us.
A moment later, the door swung open and she stepped out. She paused when she saw me waiting in the hallway.
“What, Travis?” she demanded, crossing her arms. My expression somber, I stepped away from the wall.
“I just wanted to let you know that the woman I was pictured with in Nashville is my mother, Becs. If you’re looking for a reason to be pissed at me, you’ll have to find another one,” I told her.
Her eyes flashed with regret and embarrassment, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to look at me.
I stepped a little closer, tipping her chin so she’d finally look at me. “You are the only woman I’ve been with in two years.”
“But…I thought…” she trailed off.
“That I was carrying on with every girl I met?” I filled in the blanks she’d left, smiling sadly. “I tried to—you told me to, and I thought I meant what I said about not wanting commitment. I did mean it, when I said it. But...you were all I wanted, and you’re still all I want. One day—sooner or later—you’re going to believe that.”
It took everything I had to pull my hand back and walk away, but I knew I needed to give her space to process.