Page 13 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

I stare at Eddie, my heart pounding so hard I feel it in my throat. Did he just ask me to pretend to be his girlfriend? For a moment, I think I misheard him, but the way he’s watching me, expectant and serious, tells me I didn’t.

A fake relationship.

My stomach twists. Of course it would be fake.

Why would it be real? I’m just some girl he’s saved—twice now.

A girl who has no home, no real direction, no stability.

And Eddie is a wildly successful musician, a man with the world at his feet, who could have anyone he wanted.

Someone polished, glamorous—someone who belonged in his world.

And yet, he’s asking me.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Eddie… I don’t know if I’m right for this. I mean, you could find anyone—someone more suited to this, someone who—”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “I hate the idea of some stranger being in my space, pretending to be close to me. But you? I enjoy having you around, Laney. I feel comfortable around you.”

Great, now I’m an old pair of slippers.

My heart lurches, and I grip my hands together to stop myself from shaking. “How long?”

“It’s only four weeks. Then I go on tour and you can walk away.”

Four weeks. I can handle that, right? Four weeks of pretending, of living in his space, of being close to him, and knowing he’ll never really want me. Just a transaction.

I force a wobbly smile. “And you’re offering me money to do this?”

Eddie names an amount so high my breath catches. I’ve never even seen that kind of money in my life. It would change everything.

But that’s not why I’m hesitating.

It’s not about the money.

It’s about the fact that agreeing to this means four weeks of being near him, pretending to be his, and then walking away when it’s over.

Because it will end.

I’m not stupid. I know how this works. He’ll go on tour, live his incredible life, and I’ll go back to figuring out mine. If I let myself fall for him—

No. I won’t let that happen.

He must sense my hesitation because he takes my hands in his, his thumbs brushing softly over my knuckles. My pulse stutters at the warmth of his touch, at the sincerity in his gaze as he murmurs, “Please, Laney.”

I exhale shakily. I’m being ridiculous. It’s just an arrangement. Four weeks. I can do this. I owe him this. “Okay,” I whisper. “But I don’t want that kind of money, just pay me a living wage.”

A living wage and no rent or food for a month will give me enough money for a deposit on an apartment and I can job hunt while I’m here and really figure my life out.

His head shakes. “The money is non-negotiable. I don’t care what you do with it, keep it, spend it, give it away for all I care, but I want you to have it for helping me.”

“Eddie, that’s insane. You’ve already helped me more than any other person I know.”

“That’s different. I helped you because I wanted to and, anyway, I’m responsible for what happened to you at my show.”

I reach for his muscular arm, the warm hard muscle beneath my fingers sending a pulse of heat straight to my abdomen. “Eddie, please don’t, you are not responsible for that asshole’s actions.”

“Baby, you got hurt on my watch.”

My eyes close, and the impact of him calling me ‘baby’ hits me hard in the center of my chest. How can this man reduce me to a quivering mass of hormones with one word?

“Still not responsible.”

His lips quirk. “Still don’t care. Just take it please, you can use it to get yourself a place of your own and play your music, or mine.” He winks, referring to me singing his song in the park. God, that feels like a lifetime ago.

I sigh. “Fine, you stubborn man, but I’m going to work while I’m here. I can muck out the stalls or something. I don’t know.” I wave my hand at the stalls as I watch the tension drain from his shoulders.

Eddie’s smile is slow and satisfied, there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before he moves slowly, intentionally. His hand slides up to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he gently pulls me forward. My breath hitches—

And then his lips are on mine.

I freeze, shocked, my brain struggling to catch up. His lips are firm, warm, moving against mine with a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine.

A whimper escapes me before I can stop it, and the sound seems to unravel something in him. Eddie groans, his grip tightening as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides against mine, coaxing, claiming, setting fire to every nerve in my body.

I grip the front of his shirt, my fingers curling into the fabric like it’s the only thing tethering me to the earth. His hand slides down to my waist, pulling me closer, and my entire body melts into him.

God, I’m in so much trouble.

Because this doesn’t feel fake. It doesn’t feel like something we have to work at. It’s effortless. It’s electric.

Eddie finally pulls back, his breathing uneven, his forehead resting against mine for a beat before he looks at me. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but then he blinks, and that signature smirk tugs at his lips. “I guess we don’t need to worry about faking the chemistry.”

I swallow hard, my pulse a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. No, we definitely don’t.

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 a morality 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 leans against 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.”

His eyes light up. “Seriously? That would be perfect. We could use someone who knows how to get the word out.”

Warmth spreads through me at the thought of working on something that actually matters. “I’d love to help. Anything for Joey.”

We eat in companionable silence for a moment, the occasional clink of silverware filling the space.

The food is incredible—Eddie can definitely cook.

But soon, exhaustion starts creeping in, my body reminding me that I’m still recovering.

I let out an involuntary yawn, covering my mouth quickly. “Sorry.”

Eddie chuckles, standing up and gathering the plates. “Don’t be. You should get some rest. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

I follow him down the hall, my body heavy with fatigue but my heart oddly light. At my door, he pauses, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Thanks again for helping me with this.”

A small shiver runs through me at the warmth of his lips against my skin. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

He watches me for a beat longer, something unreadable in his expression, then nods. “Goodnight, Laney.”

I step into my room and shut the door, exhaling slowly. As I change into my pajamas, I can’t help but wonder how I ended up in this alternate reality—living in Eddie’s house, agreeing to be his fake girlfriend, feeling things I really shouldn’t be feeling.

I crawl into bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. This is dangerous. But God help me, I don’t want to walk away.