Page 46 of Playing With My Heart Strings

baylor

Dancing Around the Truth

Rehearsal has gone a lot faster than it did in Chattanooga. While it did take some time to figure out our spots on the new stage, since we’re performing all the same songs again, it’s much easier to find our groove.

Having already played through the setlist once gives me more confidence during soundcheck as well. I’m able to experiment more and truly feel like I’m putting on a show, rather than standing and singing in front of an audience.

“You’re doing good out there today, Baylor.” Charlie, the lead guitarist, pulls me aside after a quick runthrough of the opening setlist.

I brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’m trying to be more engaging on stage and move around this time,” I poke fun at myself.

“Your last performance wasn’t bad though, either. You had the crowd enamored.” He pats me on the back. “I, for one, think you’d be a great addition to the group.”

I’m sure I’m blushing from the compliment, but it’s nice to be validated by Dusty’s bandmates. I don’t want to seem too confident, though, so I add, “I’m sure any of the other girls would fit in just as well.”

“Come on, now, don’t be so humble. Give yourself some credit. You’ve got real talent.” He winks as he walks away.

“Damn, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with my guitar player.” I whirl around, nearly tripping at the sound of Dusty’s voice.

“I definitely wasn’t.” I laugh. “He was just complimenting me on my performance during soundcheck.”

His lips quirk up in a playful smile. “I know, I’m just giving you shit.

Charlie’s engaged with a kid anyway. Don’t think his fiancée would be too happy with him if he was flirting with anyone other than her.

Especially since you’ve also been dating me.

He’s a good guy, though. Been with the band for years now. ”

“How did you meet?”

“My manager, Craig, actually introduced us. Charlie was looking for an opportunity, so we met up, immediately hit it off, and the rest was history.”

“Better not be talking shit about me, Wilder!” Charlie calls over his shoulder from across the stage.

“Of course, I am. Only the bad things!” Dusty sends him a mock salute with a crooked grin, and Charlie flips him off in return.

My lips quirk up at their interaction. I remember Dusty saying he didn’t have any siblings, but if I didn’t already know, I would have thought he and Charlie were brothers just from how they acted. “You’re close, then?”

“Oh, yeah. All of us in the band are. It would be fucking miserable on the road if we all hated each other.” He chuckles. “We’re a family. We take care of each other.”

His words tug on my heart, especially the sentiment about family taking care of each other. I know my parents mean well and only want what they think is best for me, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt taken care of—supported—by them.

“Where’s your head at?” Dusty asks, his voice low and rumbling.

“Just thinking about my family.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Sure. But I’m not sure which version of them I miss more. Who they are now, or who they used to be,” I admit. “My parents are supportive…as long as I’m doing what they want. If they knew I was here, they probably wouldn’t be very impressed.”

“I’m sorry.”

My brows pinch together. “Why?”

“Support and parental love shouldn’t be conditional. They should be proud of who you are as a person, not the career path you choose.”

“Aren’t they one and the same, though?” I whisper.

“No. God, no. You’re so much more than what you do for a living. You’re brave and empathetic and funny.”

“What about you, then?” I tease, flicking my eyes up to meet his. “Don’t you want people to remember you as a famous country singer?”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather be known as someone who loved the people around him wholeheartedly. As someone thoughtful, who uses their platform for good. Someone genuine…” He pauses then winks. “We’re still working on the last one.”

The media has painted a specific image of him, but the more I get to know Dusty, the more I believe he’s all of the things he mentioned and then some.

He’s proven it every time he’s risked his career to sneak out and see me, the way he’s tried to get to know the real me.

The music he writes, even if he’s afraid to bring it to the label.

How he interacts with the members of his band and his friends.

The real Dusty is so much more than a country singer.

“Shit,” I mutter, halting my steps in the middle of the sidewalk. Katherine and Valerie are up ahead with the producers and crew, and they don’t notice I’ve stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Sage asks as she stops walking for a moment.

“I forgot my bag back at the venue. I have to go back.”

“I’ll go with you,” she offers, but I wave her off.

“No, that’s okay. Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.” I spin on my heels to head back before a producer decides to tag along. It won’t take long—I know exactly where I forgot it.

When I enter the building, the stage lights are off, leaving most of the venue shrouded in darkness, only a small trickle of moonlight shining through the stained glass windows.

“What are you still doing here?” Dusty calls to me from the stage.

I pick at the loose strands of fabric on my jeans as I walk toward the front row. “I, uh, forgot my bag. I told the others to just go ahead without me and I’d catch up. What are you still doing here?” I parrot back to him.

“It’s peaceful in here, isn’t it?” He ignores my question as he paces around. “Serene.”

I nod as an eerie silence fills the room. “It feels like the calm before the storm.”

He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, his stare burns holes through me. “Come here.” He walks over to the edge and extends a hand.

I take it, letting him help me up.

“I always like to get a feel for the venue before a show outside of soundchecks and rehearsals. It’s easy to get caught up in the motions during a tour, so this helps me slow down.

Something about standing in an empty auditorium or arena or stadium helps put everything into perspective.

Tomorrow night this place will be packed, but for now it’s just me and the space… and you.”

I take a step back, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your time.”

He steps forward to grab my hand. “That’s not what I meant. I like having you here. It’s nice to let someone in on this routine. No one else knows I do this.”

“I wouldn’t think someone like you would have secrets, what with all the media attention you get.”

He steels his expression. “Everyone has secrets. I’ve just been waiting for the right person to share them with.”

“Tell me a secret, Dusty.” I close the distance, my voice only a whisper hanging between us.

His hand slides up to my jaw, a gentle caress. “I’m terrified of getting to the end of all this and it being the wrong person. I know the label has expectations, and I’m worried the person I want to choose won’t fit their image.”

I place my hand over his and look up at him through my lashes. “I think you just need to follow your heart. As cheesy as that sounds, no one knows you and your career better than you.”

“What’s your heart telling you, Baylor?” His eyes plead, like he’s been waiting for this moment.

He leans down until our foreheads press against each other. It would be so easy, too easy, to kiss him and avoid his question altogether.

My heart’s been telling me about the risks, about the consequences if my true identity gets out. It’s also been aching for the man in front of me. Every day we spend apart, it longs for him, and when we’re together, it threatens to beat right out of my chest and land in his palms.

I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop, for something to light what we have on fire and slowly send our relationship up in smoke. The fear of Aspen telling the world who I am has sat in the back of my mind since my conversation with Daniella.

But right now, I don’t want to let my anxiety about the future hold me back.

I’m falling in love with Dusty Wilder. I know I am.

“It’s telling me I’m falling in love with you.” The admission is so quiet, I’m not sure if I even said it aloud or if it was all in my mind.

But then he murmurs back, “I’m falling for you too. I’ve been falling in love with you.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I loop my arms around his neck. When he places his hands on my waist, I lean my head on his chest. A vehicle horn blares in the distance, but we don’t break apart.

In the stillness of the empty venue, we sway to an imaginary tune. No cameras, no producers, just us. And for the first time in weeks, I let myself fully relax in his arms.

Maybe we’re just dancing around the truth, holding on to each other as the metaphorical house smolders until only ash remains. Still, for this love—this desperate desire to learn and have every part of him, body, mind, and soul—burning is a risk I’m willing to take.