Page 91 of When the Stars Rise

I don’t think we’re going boot shopping. He just wants to give Hayley and Shiloh some time alone together. Not sure why he didn’t just say that, but I guess it was his feeble attempt to be subtle. It’s not his forte any more than it’s my mom’s.

I look over my shoulder at Hayley, who gives me a tight smile that looks painful. “Go. Have fun with your dad,” she says, waving her hand as if shooing me out the door.

I’m tempted to turn back around and glue myself to her side, so she doesn’t have to do this on her own. But maybe spending some time alone together might be exactly what they need.

So I walk out the door with my dad and climb into the passenger seat of his rental car. Not that he would ever drive a car. It’s a shiny black Silverado.

As predicted, we don’t go anywhere near a boot shop.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Hayley

“Sometimes I can’t believethis is my life,” I say, my gaze sweeping over the enormous suite overlooking the Denver skyline. “And other times, I’m so tired of being on the road that I barely notice my surroundings. It’s just another suite in another hotel in another city, and I take it for granted.”

Shiloh nods from her seat opposite me on the camel velvet sofa. “I know. That’s how it is, right? It’s funny how quickly you forget,” she muses. “I grew up in a swamp shack, and after we made it big, we were staying in five-star hotels and drinking champagne at the Château, and I was like, ho hum, here we go again.”

Music and touring is our common ground, and the one thing we share that isn’t contentious.

We ended up coming back to the room and ordering room service. As soon as we stepped outside the hotel after Noah and Brody took off, a group of tourists approached us, asking for photos and autographs.

“I can’t believe how lucky we got catching the two of you together,” a woman in an “I Heart Denver” T-shirt said. “This is something special. Come on, ladies. Let’s get everyone in the photo.”

There must have been a dozen of them.

After we finished posing for photos and signing autographs, Shiloh and I exchanged a look and returned to the hotel without a word. Neither of us relished sitting in a restaurant and being gawked at or photographed.

I’ve seen the effect Shiloh has on people many times. She has a presence. That star quality, I guess, like Bastian does. Even though she’s taken a break from touring and hasn’t released a new album in six years, Shiloh is still a big deal.

I take a bite of my grilled chicken Caesar, then set down my fork. “Do you ever miss it?”

“I don’t miss touring, but music will always be a big part of my life,” Shiloh says, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been working on a new album.”

My brows shoot up. That’s news to me. But then again, how would I have known?

“Wow. That’s exciting.” Despite everything that’s happened between us, I have always loved her voice and her music, and that hasn’t changed. “Have you gotten a lot written or…”

“I’ve written about half the album.” She shrugs, a small smile on her lips that tells me she’s happy with what she’s written so far but cautiously optimistic. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Shiloh is a perfectionist and would never release an album until she’s one hundred percent happy with it.

I guess I got that from her because I’m the same way. We’re our own worst critics.

We lapse into silence, and I pick at the leafy greens on my plate, casting around for something to say.

I’m suddenly hyper aware that it’s just the two of us alone in my suite with so many unspoken words to be said but I don’t even know where to start.

The Beatles’ “Norwegian Wood” is pouring from the speakers, which isn’t helping. I love this song, but it makes me feel melancholy.

“I never wanted it to be like this,” she says softly, breaking the silence.

“I know. And I’m sorry. I…” I bite my lip, trying to find the words. “I didn’t choose Dean over you. I mean, it wasn’t like that. I just felt like I needed to get away from Cypress Springs, so I asked him if I could move in with him.”

“I understand, Hayley. I’ve always understood.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good.” I’m not sure if she’s just saying it to make me feel better or if she really means it so I keep going. “I’m just saying that it wasn’t Dean’s fault. It was my choice. I’m the one who asked him. He wasn’t trying to lure me away or anything like that,” I explain. “Everything that happened was my fault. So please don’t blame him for any of this.”

My eyes lower because once again it sounds like I’m defending Dean and not her. I don’t know why the words always come out so wrong.