Sunset on Us, page 8
Jamison squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. “They’re still going over the numbers. Just deliver a Cheyenne-worthy performance; we’ll deal with everything else later.”
“Y’all know I’m not your country darlin’, but I couldn’t be prouder to be here today with the one and only Cheyenne Ford. Y’all give it up for country music’s one and only country darlin’.” Delilah clapped her ring-covered hands above her head.
Cheyenne walked out on stage. The arena was packed. She scanned the crowd as if she could identify the match by sight. Hope and everything else had been put into this concert. There had to be a match out there. Someone in this crowd could be the donor for Jenn. Tonight, Cheyenne would sing for that person. Lights flashed at her as people snapped photos on their cell phones.
Cheyenne waved to the crowd before she grabbed the microphone. “Hey, y’all, thanks for coming out today and supporting this great cause and getting registered.” She glanced down for a second. “This is a charity I hold dear to my heart.”
With a stroke of her guitar, she belted out “Back in the Saddle.” The crowd sang along with her and cheered for more. Cheyenne continued to sing. She was here to give them a good concert, and that she would. Cheyenne loved to sing, and even better, to perform—it was her wheelhouse. She was comfortable on stage, as comfortable as she would be with her head on a blanket of bluebonnets and her eyes on the clouds. This was happiness.
A sliver of worry shot through her despite the flow of serotonin that warmed her skin from being on stage. If only they could find a match. Then Cheyenne could imagine the dream of a wooden-paneled ranch home with a beachside view, as if that were even possible. But hopefully, this was. It had to be. A donor was out there. Cheyenne knew this with every inch of her soul. There was going to be a match for Jenn.
She glanced at Jamison. His eyes were a lighter shade of green. She had seen this shade before. Once. When his mom passed away. A lump caught in her throat. Cheyenne knew why he was sad. There was no match. That is why he brushed off the question. He would never lie to her, so he didn’t directly answer the question.
Cheyenne kept singing. Her heart could break after this set, and it would. Unlike every concert she had ever played, Cheyenne did not lose herself in the music. She was conscious of every note, every face, every flash of light from the audience. She had failed. The only reason for coming home was to find a match. Why couldn’t she make this happen? There had to be a match. It didn’t make sense. With all those registrations, surely one of them would work?
Finally, it was over. Every song on the list was performed. “Thank you. Thank you.” Cheyenne waved and made her way off the stage. She might have fallen if it weren’t for Jamison and his strong arms wrapped underneath her. He pulled her in close and kissed her head before tipping her head up. “It’s just the numbers here. We’ll keep looking.”
The whole point of the concert was to find a donor. A match. Cheyenne wanted nothing less than to perform at this point, and she had one more song to go. That was the deal she had made with the stadium, an eight-song set, and then an encore. Nine songs. Eight songs down and one to go. One song more and she could leave. Every bit of pain tugged inside. She didn’t want to put on her signature smile and entertain a crowd. She wanted to run and get away as far as possible from this moment.
Jamison wiped the tear from underneath her eye.
Cheyenne met his gaze. “The quicker we get out of here the better. This town is filled with nothing but heartache.”
“Go break some hearts with a good song.” Jamison squeezed her shoulders.
Cheyenne forced a smile and made her way back on stage. “Thank you for that applause. Wow, Texas does know how to do it big!” She managed a giggle.
Shouts came from the audience, “Play from Broken! Play ‘Sunset on Us’! Broken”! Cheyenne smiled. It was a skill she had acquired in this business, always be ready to smile. If you're on stage, so is your smile.
"Y’all, I thank you for loving me and loving Broken—I just can't."
Awes passed through the crowd.
"I tell you what. How about I play a new song for you? This will be the first time anyone has ever heard it."
The crowd cheered louder than they had before with any of her other songs, and those had been great. But this was different. She had offered an exclusive first listen. Anyone and everyone would be thrilled to say they had heard a first-time song from Cheyenne Ford. She could do this. This was a song she could belt out and get into.
Cheyenne let the first chord of her guitar go and caught Jamison's eye. She gave him the look. It was their look. One they shared exclusively. He nodded. He would get her through this. He got her through everything.
"This one is called ‘Endless Supply.’ It is for the man in my life who always has my back and manages to make me smile when nobody else can. This one is for you, J."
Cheyenne sang the song for Jamison, and the crowd swayed along to the beat. This would be a hit. The energy in the room was enough of a confirmation. The song was going gold, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered without a match for Jenn.
As Cheyenne hit the final note on “Endless Supply,” a tall, dark, and handsome cowboy had appeared from the side of the stage. She let her fingers strum the last chords on her guitar as her eyes met the crowd, and she winked. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out today and for getting registered.” She waved to the crowd and blew her double kiss as she exited the stage and into Colt’s arms. “You came.” She kissed his cheek. He was here. She wasn’t sure he would after the way things had ended last time. Colt was obviously mad about her departure, but that was without any information. There was still more that needed to be said. But she wasn’t ready. That discussion was going to take a lot of courage, and she wasn’t sure if it would result in any type of possibility for a future. It was the fear of the unknown that wrangled inside her mind. On most days it was too much for her. How could she think Colt would ever be able to swallow her truth?
Cheyenne eyed Colt. They used to share everything. All their secrets and dreams. Now, they were like strangers. Neither one of them seemed to budge.
“Yeah, and now I’m leaving.” There was no warmth coming from him.
“Why?” She took a step backward.
“I came here to lay down a claim to you and us, but you’re up there on stage singing songs about him?” He took off his hat and ran his hands through his dark hair. It seemed darker now. Most likely from the anger that radiated off from him. Why was he so upset?
“It’s just a song. I—”
“No, Cheyenne, it’s not just a song. And I’m not going to be your second-hand man. We’re done. For good this time.”
Anger flashed in her. “You know what, you’re right. It’s not just a song. What I have with Jamison goes way back. He’s been there for me. He was there for me when you weren’t.”
“When I wasn’t? When wasn’t I there for you? When you slammed your truck door in my face and kicked up the dust as you drove out of town?” He shoved his hat back on his head.
“It wasn’t like that. I had to go. You wouldn’t have understood.” Cheyenne eyed the floor. This was not the place for this conversation. Not here. Not now. Not ever, even though she knew better. It was going to have to happen at some point. Just not right now. They needed privacy for that. All the ears and cameras that were within reach should not be privy to that discussion.
“Maybe, but it’s not like you gave me a chance. Or us. I guess all you care about is yourself.”
Jamison approached Cheyenne from behind and shook his head.
Both Cheyenne and Colt’s attention went to Jamison. Shoot. She should not argue with Colt about Jamison in front of Jamison. It sure would make matters more difficult.
Jamison’s chest muscles were tight as the vein in his jaw flexed in solid, steady motions as he waited for a response from Cheyenne.
“You should leave and stay far away from her.” Jamison’s green eyes had darkened to an almost indeterminable shade. Fury swirled around his body. His hands were clenched into fists that most likely wanted to release their rage onto Colt.
It was Colt’s turn to laugh. “What’s this now? Are you telling me to stay away from Cheyenne? Huh ... that’s really funny. You must not be that close.”
“All right, to the parking lot.” Jamison poked Colt’s chest.
“J, don’t do it. It’s not worth it.” Cheyenne grabbed on to his bicep.
“Stay here.” Jamison’s eyes warned as he followed behind Colt.
There was no way she was going to stay. She scanned the backstage crew and another dark-haired guy caught her eye. Case Clayburn. Colt’s older brother was here. She had not seen him in years. God, she loved him. He had been like a brother to her too, until she left. She rushed up to his side and grabbed his arm. “Case, hurry. Colt is about to get in a fight.”
“What? It’s been forever since he’s fought anyone.” He tipped his hat to her. “Great show by the way. It’s so nice having you back in Texas.” He squeezed her in tight. Pleasantries couldn’t be missed around Case. He was the town veterinarian and a hot commodity; he always had been. Cheyenne was sure that single girls from a hundred miles away had tried to rope him in.
Rain began to pour as they hit the parking lot. Buckets of water soaked the men and the crowd that had formed. The night lit up as lightning split the sky. Colt and Jamison stood a couple of feet apart, both nostrils flared. Their eyes were filled with anger. Their shirts clung to their chests like muscular armor. They were evenly matched. This would be a difficult battle that would not be easily won.
A swarm of photographers clicked away as their flashes mimicked the sky full of bolts of lightning. No. This shouldn’t happen. Pain tore at Cheyenne’s insides.
“I suppose I’ll let you take the first swing since I’ve been taking my swings at your—”
Jamison’s right fist clocked across Colt’s jaw before he got the last word out. Jamison didn’t need to be asked twice. Colt took a step back before he took an uppercut to Jamison’s jaw. A pound came across Colt’s face. Jamison’s solid knuckles hit him again. Rain poured down on the crowd, but no one dispersed. Everyone wanted to see this fight and what was behind it.
“Stay away from her. I haven’t seen Cheyenne cry this much in a decade, and she’s only been back here less than a week.” Jamison swung at Colt and hit him in the stomach.
Colt buckled for a second and took a hard clock to Jamison’s face. “At least she is feeling some emotion. All that pent-up frustration from years of bad sex with you cock-blocking everyone in her vicinity, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t call good sex ripped shirts and blood-stained clothes, and don’t even get me started on her wrists.” He lunged for Colt and took him down to the ground.
Cheyenne tapped Case. “You have to do something.”
Case forced himself between the two men. “Stop. Colt. Stop this right now.” He pulled Colt off the ground.
“Move out of the way, Case, I’m about to finish him.” Colt wiped the blood from his lip.
“Finish me? I’m just getting started.” Jamison took another swing, but Case jumped in between the shot and received the hard blow, falling to the ground. Both Jamison and Colt knelt next to Case and shook him.
Cheyenne dropped to her knees and leaned over Case’s body. “Case, are you okay?” Blood trickled from a split above his brow.
“Oh, hey, Cheyenne. Did Colt finally get through to you?”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “Does it hurt bad?” She ran her hand over his cheek.
“Good. I’m okay. I’m glad you’re back. Colt is a real ass without you around.” He sat up.
“I’m sorry for hitting you.” Jamison offered his hand to help Case up.
“Thanks. No worries. It wasn’t the first hit, and I’m sure it won’t be the last one I’ll be taking for my brother.”
Colt’s eyes were on Cheyenne, who was filled with tears. She should have stopped this, but everything happened too fast, and now people were injured. Her eyes couldn’t be brought up to glance at Colt’s. Too much had been said, not enough had been explained, and it was all her fault. The rain washed over her body and all possibilities of any kind of future with Colt. She ruined it. Again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Colt wiped the blood from his lip. A metallic taste filled his mouth. It was over. It had been over for over a decade. He finally got it.
Yet, why the hell had she texted him to say she had written a new song when it was about Jamison? Why would she think he wanted to know about that? Was that her way of getting back at him for what he said after the barn? Of all the fucked-up ways to end it with someone ...
He looked over at his brother. Case’s eye was already starting to swell. Ah, shit. “Man, that is going to need some ice.”
“You didn’t fare much better. Still have all your teeth?”
Colt grunted his response. His teeth were fine, but pride had taken a beating. Cheyenne only wanted him for one thing. She’d called Jamison the only man in her life who had her back. Unbelievable.
Case put his hand around Colt’s shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better, that guy looks a whole lot worse than you. You got him pretty good. His face is pretty mangled. Wouldn’t be surprised if you broke one of his ribs. That was a good shot.”
Colt shook his head. “Nope. It doesn’t make me feel any better.” And Colt knew it wasn’t true. They might have fared the same. But it didn’t matter.
“Sorry.”
“Me too.”
Colt was sorry for going down that route again. When he saw her being carried into the Broken Spoke, he should have kept driving. He knew better, and he still made the wrong decision. Just like showing up at her concert. All he could see was red. It was not from the blood. He was furious. He was mad at himself. But even madder at Cheyenne. She wasn’t the sweet girl he grew up with. She was a cruel woman.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Put on Your Spurs
Hot Texas sun
You were always the one
Making me smile
Had you for a moment, but, baby, it’s been a while
Saw you by the fence
Dripped in sweat
I couldn’t look away
You roped me in with your sexy skin
And I can’t seem to win
I can’t back away
Cowboy, don’t leave me
This time I want to stay
Lay me down in a bed of hay
Run your spur along me all day
Tie me up in your lies
Wrap me up in your rope
Baby, I'm in boot-deep
Warmed me with your metal
Warmed me with you your heart
Cowboy, this time is different
Cowboy, we can’t part
Lay me down in a bed of hay
Run your spur along me all day
Tie me up in your lies
Wrap me up in your rope
Baby, I'm in boot-deep
“Do you want me to go in with you?” Jamison asked as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the Houston skyscraper. The street at ground level was always in the shadows because the colossal building prevented the sunlight from ever reaching the ground.
“No. I need to do this alone.”
Cheyenne had told Jamison the story years ago through drunk tears as she hung on to the toilet. She had never intended on telling anyone. Jamison had held her hair as everything came out, including her secrets. He’d put her in the shower, got her cleaned up, and put her to bed. In the morning, he gave her an ultimatum, stop the benders or he would walk away. He couldn’t watch her slowly killing herself with vodka. So, she did. She stopped drinking almost entirely. She had the odd glass of wine, but she never got blackout drunk anymore. Well, she stopped drinking hard until she got back to Cut and Shoot. She could not handle this town sober, and Jamison got that.
“I’ll wait down here. Call if you need me.” He handed her the phone. She almost forgot it. Her mind was focused on one thing.
Veritas Investigation was on the top floor. Cheyenne stepped into the office and took in the view. Windows lined the room. At this height, all of Downtown Houston could be seen. A panoramic display of the city showed the Bayou in the various shades of silver and blues that were pieced together by the large buildings.
A tall russet-haired woman greeted Cheyenne at the door. She was striking, with strong features and bright blue eyes. Her height and muscular frame gave her a commanding presence, like a cross between an Amazonian warrior and a Greek goddess. “Hi, Miss Ford. I’m Vanessa Lee. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. As I mentioned on the phone, discretion is paramount.” Cheyenne took in a deep breath.
“Of course. Owen Hayes is the best. You came to the right place.”
Cheyenne smiled. She had read about Veritas online; he was the best. This was something she prayed she would never have to do, confront her past, but it was no longer an option. She had been able to run from it for a long time, but it had caught up with her. Choices had been made, and now she would have to find out the truth. No longer could she take out her journal and pen and work through her troubles with a tune. A song wasn’t going to fix this situation. At least the attempt of that was over. The concert did not work.
“Owen is in his office. You’re in good hands.” Vanessa laid her hand on Cheyenne’s arms. Her warmth was the right temperature for this situation.
“Hi, I’m Owen Hayes.” Owen greeted her at the door to his private office. He was younger than she expected. In her mind, a PI should be a middle-aged man with a dark past and a long list of vices. Every book she had read supported that hypothesis, but Owen only looked a few years older than her. He had sandy blond hair and a friendly smile. He was handsome if fair men were your thing.
Cheyenne spotted family photographs on his desk and immediately felt at ease.
