Page 42 of Love on the Tracks
“No, I’m fine. I don’t quite know what to say.” She takes a deep breath and then looks up at me, those green eyes absolutely killer. “I saw you onTalk America.”
My breath catches in my throat. That’s what I’d wanted, right? That’s the whole reason I did it—so Rowan would see me. A grand gesture, but at the same time so pitifully small. I hope she liked it. Did she like it?
I want to shake her and demand “And?” but I can’t. I wait. And wait.
“You were amazing. I hope you didn’t get in trouble with the guys.”
I shake my head, the corner of my mouth tugging up as I remember our phone call. “Nah. They told me to do whatever I needed to do. I needed to do that.”
“What about your label? Even if Teague and Benji and Christian and Nicky are cool with it, I can’t imagine—”
It slays me that what she’s concerned about is my career. She could have been killed or seriously injured, and all I did was sing a song. Granted it was on TV, and she’s not wrong to be concerned about my label, but Jesus, I don’t want her to worry.
Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I can’t stand not touching her anymore. So I slide from the chair to the couch, and lay a hand over the blanket on her leg. Her calf, to be more precise, just one of the areas of her body that she can wield with such precision.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? I knew what I was doing. I knew the possible consequences and I did it anyway.”
“I’m supposed to be helping you, and now—”
Her voice is strained and her chin wavers, and she honest-to-god looks like she might cry. I can’t have that. So, heart in my throat, hoping she won’t refuse me, I slide closer until we’re sitting thigh to thigh and I’m half falling off the couch. What matters is I’m close enough to reach out a hand to cup her jaw and stroke her cheek. So I do. It takes everything I have not to lean in and kiss her to silence her fretting, but that seems way too far.
“Rowan. Listen. You have helped me. Probably more than you can ever understand. I appreciate you being concerned about the label but you don’t need to be. They weren’t exactly happy to have their hand forced, but now the cat’s out of the bag, they’re not going to try to stuff it back in. Especially since social media’s been blowing up with the clips. People want to know when the studio version’s coming out. They’re psyched. Above all, labels want to make money. They’re writing up new contracts as we speak, which our agent will throw back in their faces until we get exactly what we want.”
“Seriously?”
I brush a few strands of hair back from her face, tuck them behind her ear. “Yeah, seriously. So, not only did this not ruin my career, it got me what I’ve been after for years. I get to put out solo albums alongside the ones I’ll still do with LtG. So don’t worry your fangirl heart about that, either.”
She narrows her eyes as I tease, and then walks her fingers across the blanket until she lays her hand over mine. “That’s a relief.”
Her tone is light, but I’m guessing she’s only about half joking. Her touch is comforting to me, the reciprocation. She wouldn’t do that if she were mad. I don’t think.
“Zane, I wanted to . . . apologize isn’t the right word, because I’d do the same thing over again, but I didn’t mean to make you feel as though you weren’t important to me. That I was using you as prop to get better sponsorship deals, I—”
Rowan’s green eyes flick away from mine and her gaze focuses beyond my shoulder.
“Dad, could you give us a few more minutes?”
Right. Jed’s here in this relatively small space.
He clears his throat while he holds a phone to his shoulder. “You have a phone call.”
She’s seemed a little fragile up until now, but suddenly my Valkyrie is back. “Okay. I think they can wait until we finish here.”
Part of me wishes I could sink down into the couch and disappear. I don’t want to be a source of strife between Rowan and her dad, but clearly that’s what I’ve become. “I can go. If it’s important, I don’t want to get in the way.”
“Thank you, Zane.” Jed’s pointed tone is enough to make Rowan scowl and while I don’t want to come between them at all, this has become kind of entertaining. In an Andrews vs. Andrews in a battle of wills, I’m not sure who’s going to come out on top. Rowan got that stubbornness from somewhere and I have a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t from her mother.
“Dad.”
“Rowan, you want to take this phone call. If it were a sponsor, or Kate, or the press, I’d take a message. It’s not. I’m sure Zane will understand.”
Sneaky bastard. Can’t help but admire him for it though. Not when Rowan’s well-being is concerned.
I turn my hand over under hers, and give her fingers a squeeze. “If it’s important, you should take it. I can go look for a green chili elk burger or something while you’re on the phone.”
I make to get up, but she uses those crazy muscles of hers to put a death grip on my hand.
“You are not going anywhere. I need to talk to you. And you—” She jabs a finger in her father’s general direction. “Need to stop being so bossy. But if it will get us a moment’s peace afterward, fine.”
