Read Online Country Heaven by Ava Miles - Free Book Online Page B

his fate. Clayton’s mom had met them there for drinks a few weeks before graduation, and being one of the major country singer managers in the business, she’d instantly picked up on his raw talent. The rest, as they say, was history. He and Georgia always laughed about the fact that he’d been under her nose for years. “You’re breaking my heart.”
    “I miss you.”
    God, he missed her too, but saying so would only add to her pain. “You be strong for me.”
    An ambulance siren sounded on the line. He drew the phone away from his ear.
    “Tammy! No!” Amelia Ann suddenly cried. Then the line went dead.
    So Tammy was still Mama’s enforcer. His Stepford–wife sister had turned her back on him with a posture so perfect a book wouldn’t have fallen off her head. Having been best friends with Rye’s fiancée, Emeline, Tammy had felt doubly betrayed by his defection from family tradition and his cancelled engagement.
    Pain seared Rye’s heart, and he stood tall, trying to close it out. To occupy his mind, he studied the invisible runner in the fields for a moment, but then he shoved the sheet music off his desk in a rage. You stupid bastard , he thought. You can’t outrun anything .
    Even though they were estranged, he wanted his Daddy to be okay. It was hard to imagine the lean, tanned golfing lawyer being sick. The man never succumbed to so much as a simple cold.
    Could it be true? Had The Incident stressed his old man enough to make him collapse?
    A whiff of bacon touched his nose, promising comfort, but he only wanted to be alone. He caressed Old Faithful’s burnished wood and hugged it to his hollow chest. The first strums on the guitar were violent and angry. A string broke, and he swore.
    ***
    The rolling green of Michigan passed by as Tory shoved the ribs into the oven to keep them warm and tapped her foot on the tile floor. They had a few more hours before they’d arrive in Detroit, the next concert stop. Rye hadn’t responded to her summons to breakfast and lunch. He hadn’t even come out. Was he really ignoring her ?
    She yanked off her new apron, a normal white one courtesy of yesterday’s shopping trip, and stalked down the hallway. She wouldn’t let him hide any longer. His door was shut. She pounded hard enough to make her palm hurt.
    “If you’re not going to eat, at least be respectful enough to tell me as much.”
    When he didn’t respond, the first ripple of worry ran through her. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard nothing. Was something wrong? “Rye? Is everything okay?”
    No response.
    She cracked the door open, seriously concerned now. His big body lay huddled on a brown leather sofa under a caramel and white striped blanket.
    “What’s the matter?” she asked, walking forward. His face was white and haggard. She darted a hand out to touch his forehead for fever.
    “I don’t feel good,” he whispered, pushing her hand away.
    “Are you sick?”
    He tugged the blanket up to his neck. “Just leave me alone.”
    She picked up his phone off the floor. “I’m calling Clayton. Give me your passcode.”
    He muttered it, and she located Clayton’s number in his contacts and dialed. Told him what was going on and hung up.
    “You just need to eat,” she said to Rye. “I bet that’s part of the problem. I’ll make you some mashed potatoes and applesauce. That’s why my grandma always made me when I was feeling sick.”
    A half–empty glass of amber liquid sat on the floor. She picked it up and sniffed. “Are you drunk?”
    “No, started to get that way, but couldn’t choke it down.” He groaned. “Christ, I wish I were drunk. I don’t want to think.”
    The bus stopped, and she realized they’d pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate.
    Clayton and Georgia burst into Rye’s room moments later.
    “He’s not feeling well.”
    “We’ll take care of it,” Clayton said.
    She left, her anger fading. What he’d done last night wasn’t right, but there was