Jack doesn’t seem to notice if I’m acting oddly. That might be because he’s buzzing with excitement. “You came!” He reaches for a hug before I can stop him. His arms are as strong as Sterling’s and my thoughts drift to images of him in fatigues in a desert. When he pulls back, he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. Am I too excited?”
“She’s not a hugger,” Poppy explains, “but I am.” The two of them embrace warmly and I’m left wondering what it must be like to feel that at ease around people.
Someone calls over to him with a question, and Jack waves us toward the side door. “Kai’s in the green room. I’ll see you two later.”
We wind our way past the tables and into a hall that leads to the small room in back, which seems to function as a one-size-fits-all solution for performers. Despite the cramped quarters, it’s amazing to see the names scrawled on the wall. It’s a bit of Nashville history.
“He’s cute,” Poppy says in a low voice as we knock on the door.
“Who?”
“Jack,” she says, “and he can’t stop looking at you.”
I want to tell her that’s likely because he knows that I know that he’s a cold-blooded killer. But it’s not my secret to tell, so I just roll my eyes. “I think he was checking you out, actually.”
“Yes, but I’m off-the-market,” she says significantly. I know Poppy is fishing for information as to what happened between Sterling and me. I’ve been tight-lipped about our date so far. All she knows is what I know: things have changed for us—maybe forever.
The door swings open, and Kai grabs our hands. He hauls us inside and shuts the door, slumping against it. He’s already dressed for tonight’s show in a worn pair of Levi’s and a black t-shirt. Only he could make something so simple, so hip.
“Are you okay?” Poppy’s question mirrors the concern I feel. Kai is so pale that he looks like he’s about to be sick.
“I just fired my agent,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s checking for his own pulse.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m going to move to Nashville and work with Jack.” He bites his lip, waiting for our reaction.
It takes a second for me to process. That’s exactly one second longer than it takes Poppy. She’s already screaming. The next thing I know, I’m being smashed into a group hug.
“I’m so glad you came,” Kai says, squeezing us back. “But tell me—have I lost my mind?”
“Absolutely not,” Poppy says. “Right?”
“Yes!” I force myself to sound excited and plaster a grin on my face. Inside, I can’t help thinking about what Jack did all those years ago. Sterling said Jack is on a different path now, but should Kai know who he’s working with? I’m not sure.
“Adair!” Poppy snaps her fingers near my nose, and I startle. “I was telling Kai that we’re going to celebrate next weekend at Maison Blanc. Attendance is mandatory.”
“That sounds great,” I say in a feeble voice.
“No one has ever sounded so depressed at the prospect of a spa day,” Kai says, eying me with concern.
“She had a fight with Sterling,” Poppy tells him.
“We didn’t have a fight.” I blow a stream of air out of my lips, searching for the right word for what happened. “I had a wake-up call.”
“Uh-oh.” Kai shakes his head. “When will that boy learn?”
Poppy glances at me, barely suppressing a smile. “He’ll learn when she teaches him.”
An hour later The Barrelhouse is packed and Cyrus has arrived. Thanks to Jack, we’ve got a small table near the bar. It’s close enough to keep the whiskey flowing and hear the music, but far from the crowd mashing their way closer to the stage.
“Hey, you ready?” Jack appears at our table, rubbing his palms together. His enthusiasm is infectious.
Poppy, who has stolen a cowboy hat—probably from Kai himself—whistles loudly. “Already losing control of your artist? Let’s get this going!”
Jack’s eyes sparkle. “He told you?”
“Yeah, congrats.” I mean it. If Sterling is right, and Jack is trying to change, I want the best for him. Maybe he made some mistakes, but he seems to have moved on.
The lights dim, and the audience begins to thrum with excitement. A few seconds later, the stage lights fall on Kai as the first notes of “The Liar” start. At least he’s not making me sing it with him this time.
A grin splits Jack’s face, but as he turns to yell something over the crowd, he pauses and waves at someone near the door. My eyes follow his to find Sterling entering along with Luca. I consider whether I can melt onto the floor with no one noticing, when a pretty girl in cut-offs and a nearly sheer tank top follows behind them.
“He didn’t,” Jack says, shaking his head.
My stomach plummets to my feet, and I fight the urge to vomit. I knew Sterling would show up. He couldn’t resist. But I didn’t expect him to bring someone else. A hand closes over mine, and I look up to find Poppy staring at me in concern.
“Bathroom now,” I mouth.
For all the work that Jack has done on bringing the Barrelhouse into this century, he is yet to touch the ladies’ room. There’s a line, but Poppy pulls me along right past the others. “Sorry, ladies, this is an emergency. She just saw him!”
There’s a collective murmur of understanding from the women waiting in line. No one has to ask who him is or tries to interfere as we press our way to the sinks, partly because we aren’t jumping the line to the toilets, but mostly because every single one has a him of their own. No explanation is necessary.
“He brought someone,” I say miserably.
“She might have come with Cyrus.”
I
