Page 23 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“Great. Let’s start with some warm-up exercises.” He leads us through a few standard vocal warm-ups, and I hate to admit how well Aspen’s voice fits with mine.

I’m trying my best to keep an open mind about her, but it’s proving to be difficult. My mind keeps wandering back to the idea that Aspen was intimidating Baylor, probably trying to get her to break down or slip up or something. Anything that would cause her to go home.

I won’t have it. She deserves a conversation about it, but depending on how it goes will determine whether or not Aspen makes it to next week.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound engineer. “You guys sound great together! Wow.”

Aspen blushes in front of me from the compliment.

“Should we record a song? Do y’all have anything in mind that you might want to try? This is just for fun and to see how your musical chemistry is, so we can do pretty much anything.”

We brainstorm for a few minutes but eventually decide on a cover of “I’m Gonna Love You,” a duet performed by Cody Johnson and Carrie Underwood.

It’s a passionate love song, and if an outsider didn’t know any better, they would probably assume Aspen and I are in a relationship. I have to give her credit—she has talent and she’s determined. She possesses a fire reminiscent of myself when I first came to Nashville.

When the song ends and we step back into the control room, the engineer pulls me aside.

“I’m going to send this up to Rob,” he whispers.

“That was fantastic , Dusty. Even if you don’t choose her at the end—though personally, I don’t think you can go wrong—she would be a great candidate for Ace High Entertainment as a new artist. I know at the end of the day I don’t have much of a say,” he rambles on, “but I know talent when I see it. And that girl right there has it tenfold.”

I cough slightly, the words I want to say catching in my throat, unable to surface. I simply nod then follow Aspen out of the recording studio. We need to have a conversation before I make a decision I might regret.

“Being in the recording studio was so much fun.” She beams as we walk down the hallways of Ace High Entertainment. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

I remember that she’s been in Nashville for eight years now, and curiosity about why she hasn’t been picked up by a label piques my interest. “I can’t believe you haven’t before.

” My statement is leading. I’m hoping she’ll take the hint, or maybe bait, and give me some insights on her own music journey.

“I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve had my eyes set on several record labels in Nashville, but I just haven’t had much luck.

” She pouts as she looks down at the ground.

“I’ve been trying to catch the eye of Six-String Entertainment for a while now and Ace High Entertainment, too. I guess they just don’t want me.”

I find that hard to believe, but the music industry is cutthroat. Part of me wants to tell her about the engineer’s intentions to send what we recorded to Rob, but I don’t want to get her hopes too high or add fuel to the metaphorical fire that’s apparently burning between her and Baylor.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out.” I rub the back of my neck then clear my throat. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She perks up at that, stopping in her tracks. “What’s up?” Her voice has an air of uncertainty to it.

“I’ve spoken to a few of the girls”—I lie, so as to not expose Sage—“and I’ve heard there’s some animosity between you and Baylor.”

Aspen sucks in a breath as her demeanor immediately shifts. “I—” she starts.

“I just want to hear your side,” I add.

She stares at me through thick lashes like she’s trying to figure me out. Suddenly, her face falls, like she’s been hit with a wave of sadness. “I didn’t want to cause any rifts, or plant any seeds of doubt in your mind, that’s why I haven’t said anything. I’m not sure what you heard, but?—”

I cut her off, wanting to get straight to the point. “Did you accuse her of only being here because of favoritism from the producers?”

Her face blanches, confirming what Sage said was true. “Dusty, I-I…” I’ve never seen her so at a loss for words during the several interactions I’ve had with her the past few weeks. “I’m not saying it’s true but, yes, I have my suspicions. She?—”

“Baylor is here because I want her to be here. I want to make it clear that this last week she stayed because I wanted her to stay, not the producers.” I don’t mean to be as harsh as I’m probably coming across, but I want to set the record straight that I’m the one making the decisions here.

“My advice to you would be to worry about our relationship and less about Baylor.”

She blinks like she’s surprised I jumped so quickly to defend Baylor. Then she narrows her eyes, looking like she’s about to say something, but instead of firing back a retort, she purses her lips and nods.

“What are you here for, Aspen?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” Her question is slow, wary.

“Exactly what I asked. What are you here for? The record deal with Ace High? Recognition?” I throw out some ideas of why I think she might be on the show.

An emotion that looks a lot like betrayal clouds her expression. “I-I mean those are a plus, but that’s obviously not why I’m here. I’m here for you. Other people might be here to go viral or to jumpstart their career, but I’m here because of you.”

I thought asking her what her intentions are would ease my mind, but it only leaves me more confused than I was going into this whole conversation.

“I think it’s probably best if you head back to the hotel.

” I’m probably not supposed to cut our date short, but I’m annoyed and I need time to think.

I also desperately want to talk to Baylor, but I’m not sure when my next opportunity to do that will be.

“I like you, Aspen, I do. I think you have an incredible voice and we’d have a great partnership.

But it hurts me to hear about a potentially hostile environment here. ”

“You know what, you’re right. I’m sorry this made you want to cut our time short, but I understand.

I do think you need to talk to Baylor. You may not believe me, and the other girls may not see it, but there’s something off about her.

” With that, she walks away, not even giving me a second glance as she heads to the elevators, the camera crew trailing behind her.

Fuck. I forgot about the cameras.

I rap my knuckles against the wood grain of Baylor’s hotel room door. When she opens it, she doesn’t even look surprised to see me.

Instead, she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at me. “What do you want, Dusty?”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I smirk, ignoring her question. “Are you going to let me in, or are you going to risk me getting caught by our lovely producers?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh and opens the door wider, gesturing for me to come in. “You know, you’re going to get us both in trouble if you keep doing this.”

I walk past her, heading straight for the king-size bed. “That’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get there. Besides, seeing you is worth it. Gives me an adrenaline rush knowing any moment I could get caught.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes.

“So funny. Seriously, why are you here?”

I sigh, letting my guard and media persona fall. “Truthfully, I just wanted to spend time with you. Away from the cameras. Away from the producers. I can’t even say hi to you and the other girls without someone being in my face. I just want a break from all the noise.”

Her expression softens at my admission, like she understands. She walks over to the bed and sits next to me. “And you came to me?”

“Yeah, of course, I came to you. I like spending time with you, believe it or not.” I chuckle. “I want to get to know you. Our date was a start, but I want to know more . I want to know who Baylor is.”

“I’m not sure you do.” She snorts.

“Sure, I do. I want to know the real reason you came here. Your hopes and dreams. Your darkest secrets.” I nudge her playfully to let her know the last part is only a joke.

“It’s only fair if I get to know the real Dusty Wilder then, too,” she fires back.

“Ask away, darlin’. I’m an open book.”

“Okay, did you always know you wanted to come to Nashville and be a famous country star ?” She’s teasing, but her question hits hard.

“Not always, no.” I shake my head. “But music has always been a part of my life, and when the opportunity arose, my parents encouraged me to take it. I don’t have any siblings, so I’ve been supporting them—giving back what they gave to me—ever since.

” My music career has been a big reason my family is able to live a comfortable life.

If they wanted to, they could sell the farm and be completely fine.

I know they never will, and they insist on me keeping the money I’ve earned for myself, but I still want them to have options.

“What’s your family like?”

“They’re some of the most hardworking people I know.

” The admission comes easily, and the words start to flow out of me.

“Everything I am, everything I’ve come to be, is because of the sacrifices they made.

I was able to leave home at eighteen to pursue my dream because of them.

” I owe them everything, and that’s why I’ve been working my ass off here in Nashville.

Why I’ve allowed myself to fall into the persona Rob Acerra created for me. It’s all for them.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m glad you have such supportive parents. I’m sure they’re really proud of you.”

“They are.” I nod. “I owe them everything.”

“Your parents sound like incredible people. They clearly raised you to be an incredible person, too.”

“The media may portray me as someone who only cares about himself, but they don’t know the real me,” I reply softly.

“I can see that,” she murmurs back.

In the time we’ve spent talking, we’ve naturally gravitated closer to each other, and our legs brush.

“What about yours?” I ask gently.

Her eyes darken again, like they did during that first conversation we had. “I…I love my parents. I really do. But we have different ideas of what’s worthwhile.”

I want to pry, get her to divulge more than just a vague answer, but I can tell that’s not what she needs at this moment, so I let it go, despite my desire for her to let me in.

“I remember you talking about them on our solo date at the record store. How they used to sing together.” I’m hoping I’m not pushing too hard, but to my relief, she relaxes and her shoulders drop as if she let go of all the tension in her body.

“Music was a staple in our household growing up. My parents taught me how to play guitar and my mom…” she trails off.

“My mom had this journal that she passed down to me. It’s filled with songs she wrote.

She’s why I fell in love with songwriting.

Lyrics have always…called to me, though.

Songwriting is like poetry, there’s something so beautiful about it.

Even the most haunting lyrics have beauty.

” When she speaks, her eyes brighten, and I feel like I’m seeing Baylor in an entirely new light.

My fingertips wander from my thigh until they come to rest on her leg. She looks down then back up at me.

“Is this okay?” I ask, ready to pull back if needed, but she nods.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

“I’m really glad you shared that with me, about the songwriting and lyrics. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

“You trusted me with your story about your parents,” she murmurs.

We’re close enough that if I were to lean forward slightly, our noses would touch.

“You showed me a new side of you tonight, Dusty Wilder. I know the media portrays you in a certain light, but I hope everyone sees the person I can see—the hardworking, generous one—after all this is over.”

We talk a while longer, at some point moving so we’re lying above the covers next to each other on the bed.

I’m staring up at the ceiling when I hear a soft snore next to me. I roll over, and sure enough, Baylor has fallen asleep.

Careful not to wake her, I get up from the bed and walk over to her side. As I lean down, I plant a delicate, lingering kiss on her forehead. She doesn’t wake, but I swear there’s a hint of a smile as I whisper, “Good night, Baylor,” and quietly sneak out.