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his couch, he let the pain come—let it soak into his skin.
    His sisters gave him too much credit. He hadn’talways kept them safe. And it was the times he’d failed, stayed out with friends, or worked late to earn extra money and came home to his sisters bruised, bloody, crying, and clinging to each other after his father had taken out his anger on them that haunted him.
    The bruises had faded. A few of the marks had scarred. They each had a few. But the deepest one for him, the one he knew he’d never be able to get over, was the one he’d left on someone else.

“T HEY WANT me to what? No, hell no.” Kylie scoffed at her agent and her manager, who sat across from her in the back booth at the Oak Bar.
    She put her burger down, having suddenly lost her appetite, and wiped the napkin across her mouth. Her agent was a traitor, she was damn near positive. But her manager usually had her back. She leveled him with a glare and he put his hands up.
    “Kylie, you bailed early on your own release party for The Other Side of Me , imitated a soulless corpse to the point we wondered if you were auditioning for a spot on The Walking Dead at the party they threw you when it went platinum, and turned down the tour with Bryce Parker. You’re turning into some type of diva who won’t play by the rules. The label can support you or let your ass hang in the wind. It’s your choice. But they’re asking you to do this, to make a quick appearance at this benefit, to generate some buzz for both of you.”
    She narrowed her eyes at Chaz Michaelson. He shrugged, clearly unfazed by her hostility.
    “Bull. They want me to show up there and make some kind of scene so the tabloids can drum up some shit about me and him and his crazy-ass girlfriend. Get him back in the public eye before his next album drops. Pass. They can find a hundred other girls willing to fake a relationship with him for attention. I’d bet my daddy’s truck on it.”
    Her agent pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “Is this about you not wanting to be a pawn in the publicity game or about your feelings for him? Be straight with us, because we’re the ones trying to help you here. Remember?”
    Yeah, Kylie remembered. She also remembered that her agent was his agent, too.
    “I don’t want to be involved in anyone’s game. Not his and not the label’s. That’s how I started out, and I’ve put it behind me. My career is about me. Not about him and not about whatever the label wants to spin us as. He and I are nothing and it’s going to stay that way.”
    “He who?” Maude Lowenstein prompted. “If your feelings for him aren’t an issue, then how come you haven’t said his name? He’s not Voltemort, last I checked. Saying his name won’t conjure him out of thin air.”
    Kylie resisted the urge to fold her arms and glare at the surprisingly sharp and callous woman in her late sixties. And to storm the hell out. She took a deep breath and shrugged.
    “Trace. His name is Trace. And while I fully support his A Hand Up charity-thing, I have no interest in being involved in his benefit concert. I’ll donate a signed guitar or something. But I’m not going to it. I wasn’t even technically invited. We done here?”
    She began to scoot out of the booth, but her manager reached out and put a hand on her arm.
    “You were invited, Kylie. He’s having a hard time. The venue pulled out because of his rehab stay and so did some of his family-friendly sponsors. The event’s been moved to his property in Macon and his sister called me personally and invited you.”
    He’s having a hard time.
    The words wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Kylie swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. She sucked in a lungful of air and glanced from her agent to her manager.
    “All I have to do is show up?”
    The other two people at her table exchanged glances and Chaz cleared his throat.
    “Um, not exactly. The label was hoping you and Trace would sing The Other Side