The teenager set his jaw. “You don’t think we deserved to know?”
I glanced at Rhodes and felt my heartbeat over my neck and face. “I was going to tell you at some point, but it just… I wanted you to like me for me. For who I am.”
He shook his head slowly, eyebrows knitting together. “You didn’t think it was important that you were married to some rich, famous guy? That you made us think you were some sad, divorced woman who had to start all over again?”
Anger and hurt suddenly punched me right in the chest. “I was sad, and I was technically divorced. He used to call me his wife in private. Around very close friends. He didn’t legally marry me because it would ruin his image. Because single men sold more records than married ones. And I did have nothing. The money doesn’t mean shit to me. Besides your Christmas presents and a little money here and there I’ve spent on things and other people, I haven’t spent it on anything. And I did have to start all over again, like I told you. He came home, said it was over, and the next day, his lawyer sent me a notice to leave the house. Everything was under his name. I had to move in with Yuki for a month before I had the strength to go back to Florida,” I explained, shaking my head. “All I left with were the same things I brought here.”
Rhodes lifted his head toward the sky and shook it. He was pissed. Which, fine, okay, if he had dated… Yuki, I would want to know. But I hadn’t lied. And I’d just been trying to protect what little pride I had left. Was that so wrong?
“You wrote that football song, didn’t you?” Amos asked in that tiny voice that felt like a kick to my sternum.
My heart fell, but I nodded at him.
His nostrils flared, and his cheeks went even more pink. “You told me my songs were good.”
What? “Because they are, Am!”
My teenage friend looked down, and his lips pressing together so hard they went white.
“I’m not lying,” I insisted. “They are good. You knew about Yuki. I told you I’d written things that people had recorded. I tried to hint at it. But I just didn’t want you to be nervous, that’s why I—”
Without looking at me or his dad, Amos turned around, walked toward the car, and got into the passenger seat.
My heart crashed to my toes, and I forced myself to glance at Rhodes. “I’m sorry—” I started to say before he met my gaze, that stubborn chin a hard point on his face.
He blinked. “How much money did he give you?”
“Ten million.”
He flinched.
“I told you I had money saved,” I reminded him weakly.
One of those big hands came up, and he scrubbed at his head through the knit hat he’d put on. He didn’t say a word.
“Rhodes…”
He didn’t even look at me as he turned around and got into the car.
Fuck.
I swallowed hard. There was no one to blame but myself, and I damn well knew it. But if I could just explain. I just hadn’t told them Kaden’s name or been specific about how much songwriting I’d done… at least for who. I’d hinted. I’d never lied. Was it so wrong that I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t written anything new in forever? I didn’t even worry about that anymore. I didn’t think about it.
We were just going to need a little time. Once they stopped being mad, I could explain all over again. From the beginning. Everything.
It would be fine.
They loved me and I loved them.
But even having a plan didn’t help when neither of them said a single word to me, or each other, the entire ride back to Pagosa.
Chapter 29
Clara was looking at me as I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“What’s wrong? You’ve looked sad today,” she said as I reorganized the shoe display for the third time. It still didn’t look right. It made more sense to have the taller winter boots at the top than at the bottom, but the whole thing still looked off.
“Nothing,” I told her, hearing the weariness in my tone and reminding me I was a bad liar. I had slept awful last night, worse than the nights the bats had terrorized me. But instead of taking the day off like I’d originally requested, I had decided to come in and not leave her short-handed instead.
She had to have heard the BS too from the expression she made that was all concern. Part of me expected her to let it go, but she didn’t. “You know you can tell me whatever’s bothering you, right?” she asked, slowly and carefully, trying not to tread on my toes but obviously concerned enough to risk it.