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And that terrifies me.

Eddie takes my hand, his fingers warm and sure around mine, and leads me back toward the house. My heart is still hammering in my chest from that kiss, my lips tingling with the phantom feel of him. I don’t know what I’ve just agreed to, but I do know that I’m in serious trouble.

As we step onto the back porch, I glance up at him, needing a distraction from the way my body is reacting to his presence. “I still don’t get why your record label thinks your image is bad. You’re a damn country music star. Isn’t that the whole point?”

Eddie exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he pushes open the door and leads me inside. “It’s not about the typical music star behavior. This is different.” He hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “I did a set at a friend’s engagement party.He’s gay, and the party was at a club. Some paparazzi caught photos, and suddenly, the label’s calling it amorality issue.”

I stop in my tracks, staring at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of outdated bullshit is that?”

His mouth lifts in a humorless smirk. “Tell me about it. Apparently, it ‘goes against the brand image they’ve carefully cultivated for me’ whatever the hell that means. I don’t give a shit, but they do, and now they’re trying to control the narrative. Hence, the whole fake girlfriend thing.”

I cross my arms, anger bubbling in my chest. “That’s disgusting. They can’t seriously expect you to play along with that.”

Eddie’s jaw tightens. “Oh, they do. And they’re holding my contract over my head to make sure I comply. Which is why I told my agent to send me a copy. I need to find a way out before they own me completely.”

I watch him, the frustration and tension clear in every line of his body. This isn’t just about cleaning up some bad press. It’s about control. About him wanting his freedom. And for some reason, he’s trusting me enough to be part of whatever plan he’s forming.

I take a slow breath, looking up at him. “Eddie… I hope you find a way. You deserve better than this.”

His gaze softens, something flickering in his deep green eyes. “Thanks, Laney.” His fingers tighten around mine for a brief moment before he releases me. “Now, let’s get you back inside and resting before you pass out on me.”

I roll my eyes but follow him anyway because, despite everything, being here with him feels like the safest place in the world.

Eddie leansagainst the kitchen island, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “How about I grill us some steaks for dinner?”

My stomach growls in answer, and I laugh. “That sounds amazing.”

The kitchen is stunning—sleek and modern, yet somehow warm. Dark wood cabinets contrast with pristine white marble countertops, and pendant lights hang low over the island, casting a soft glow. Stainless steel appliances gleam, and the massive double-door fridge looks big enough to store a month’s worth of food. A wide window over the sink overlooks the sprawling backyard, the setting sun casting golden light across the room. It feels cozy despite its luxury, a place where someone actually lives, not just a showpiece.

As Eddie preps the steaks, he glances over at me. “So, do you play any other instruments, apart from the guitar, or are you strictly a guitar girl?”

“Just guitar,” I admit, watching as he seasons the meat. “I always wished I could play piano, but I never really had the chance to learn.”

He hums, flipping the steaks with practiced ease. “Well, you have good taste at least. And hey, it’s never too late to learn.”

“I think I’ll leave the performing to the professionals,” I tease, leaning against the counter.

“Speaking of taste… have you heard from your ex?”

My gaze flits away from his, embarrassment heating my cheeks. “Only when he threw my stuff in the yard.”

His jaw ticks slightly as he sets down the tongs.

Eddie curses under his breath. “Real classy. Where are you staying now?”

“Christie’s couch,” I admit with a half-smile.

His grin widens. “Then even more reason to move in with me.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

Still, I make a mental note to call Christie later. She’s been my rock through all of this, and I don’t want her worrying about me.

As we sit down to eat, conversation flows easily. We talk about Lucas and Sam, and little Joey’s need for a transplant. My heart aches just thinking about it. “It’s so unfair,” I say, cutting into my steak. “A kid that young, going through something like that.”

Eddie nods, his expression somber. “That’s why I’m setting up a kidney donation campaign. We need to raise awareness, get more people registered as donors.”

I perk up at that. “I could help. I just graduated with a degree in public relations.”