Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
I’ve been back in Chicago for eight hours. I haven’t unpacked. I’ve barely slept. So, to say I wasn’t prepared for my first crisis management meeting is an understatement.
“Let’s address the elephant in the room.” Spencer, Cash’s publicist, slides a tablet across the table toward me.
I already know what’s on it.
I saw all the gossip on the plane home. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, I knew public scrutiny would come with this career, but when I thought about protecting my relationship from the media, I thought of Miles and me. Not Cash Walker.
The idea is absurd. He’s more like a brother than my actual brother, and that’s saying something.
When we landed, I had seventeen missed calls from Kendra, six from my mom, and a voicemail from Miles. I didn’t want to ruin the still-intact high from my first big performance, so I only listened to his.
Still, my happy bubble didn’t survive baggage claim. Paparazzi greeted me where Miles should’ve been. He wasn’t “allowed” to pick me up. The only thing that got me through the trip home was the thought of leaping into Miles’s arms at the airport, but even that couldn’t go as planned.
Instead, Kendra collected me. She didn’t have many details, only that Cash’s people wanted a meeting. And that the rumors had grown beyond a minor first-taste-of-fame nuisance into a full-blown situation.
So now we’re here, in a fancy PR firm’s conference room in downtown Chicago, surrounded by people in sharp suits and even sharper expressions.
Miles’s hand is on my leg, while Cash’s publicist explains why the rumor that I’m dating my duet partner is “actually a fantastic opportunity.”
Miles’s hand flexes on my thigh, and he stares at the glass wall behind Spencer’s head. Thank God he was able to come. I don’t think I’d make it through this without him.
“The response has been overwhelmingly positive. For the Record is trending. Streams have doubled since the CMAs. Cash, you’ve gotten more sponsorship offers than”—Spencer tips his head toward Cash’s manager—“well, more than Paula can field.”
“And Summer, you winning over the infamously single Cash Walker?” He says it like I’ve won an award. “It’s the kind of PR your debut needs.”
Kendra sits on my other side; her brows are furrowed, but she’s nodding along.
Paula doesn’t even try to hide her excitement. “The public loves the idea of you two together. Country music’s golden boy and the breakout star. It’s romantic. It’s marketable.”
Cash sits at the head of the table, ankles crossed, boots propped up, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. He’s probably been through something like this a thousand times before; he’s used to people managing his image. In the month I’ve known him, it’s become clear his team keeps him on a short leash.
I’m just glad Cash seems to agree with me about how ridiculous this all is. Maybe we haven’t all lost our minds.
Spencer spins his chair toward Cash. “It’ll help with those other rumors I’ve been fielding, too.”
Cash’s jaw clenches. “Have you forgotten—I’d love for the truth to come out.” He holds Spencer’s gaze long enough that the room goes uncomfortably quiet.
People make a lot of assumptions about Cash, and I know a few are flat-out wrong. Okay, maybe he can be a brat. But he’s always got good intentions. The version of him the public sees isn’t the whole picture—I’m not sure they’d recognize the real one if they met him.
The more private a person is, the louder the gossip gets. I don’t understand why it matters. Like Boone says, it’s about the music. But the industry doesn’t care what I think.
Spencer looks away first, but Paula’s eyes narrow at Cash. “Need I remind you of our agreement?”
Cash’s boots thump onto the ground, and he leans forward, forearms on the table. “And what exactly are you suggesting now?” His voice is tight.
“That it benefits everyone if we let the story ride,” Spencer cuts in.
Cash scoffs. “So, you want people to think we’re together?”
“I already have a boyfriend.” I gesture toward Miles. “He’s sitting right here. There’s nothing between me and Cash.”
Miles’s lips tip up, just a little.
“Doesn’t matter.” Spencer waves a dismissive hand. “What matters is that it’s working. The song is climbing the charts because people are invested in the story behind the lyrics.”
“The ‘story’ isn’t even about us,” I argue, but no one seems to hear me. The song’s about Miles, but I don’t say that. I don’t want to give these people more than they already have.
Kendra leans in. “I think what Spencer is trying to say—”
“What I’m trying to say,” Spencer cuts her off, “is that this is the kind of thing that could give you a leg up.”
I blink.
“Cash doesn’t need the publicity, but you’re brand new on the scene. Your association with someone well-respected and loved in the industry could help bolster your career. You want to be a star, don’t you, Summer?”
That damned word again.
Kendra touches my arm, her expression apologetic. “This is how the industry works. You ride the wave. And I have to admit, this wave looks like a good one.”
Miles’s hand leaves my thigh. He pops his knuckles.
“Let me guess—you’ll want us to be ‘seen together’?” Cash’s voice is flat. “Play up the couple angle ‘for the camera.’ The oldest play in the book. What do I pay you for? Can’t you come up with something original?”
He turns to me. “Summer, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Don’t let them—”
My mouth gapes, then closes. I can’t decide what to say before Paula snaps, “Cash.”
Everyone looks at him, but his gaze stays fixed on me. He flicks a quick glance at Miles, then back. He’s trying to tell me something, and if I had to guess, it’d be don’t do this. But that could be me projecting.
The room goes quiet. Then Spencer riffles through folders stacked in front of him. He checks each one before handing one to me, Miles, and Kendra.
“Oh, none for me?” Cash raises a brow. Paula shoots him a scathing look.
I flip through the folder as Miles does the same. “It’s an NDA,” he says, low, drawing the conclusion as I come to the same one.
“What’s all this about?” I ask Spencer.
But Paula answers, “It’s an extra layer of safety. Says you’ll keep your real relationship hush, hush, and that we’ll… collaborate on your image in relation to Cash.” She smiles, but the expression is all wrong on her face.
“Is this necessary—” Kendra starts, but is cut off by Paula’s clipped, “Yes.”
I turn to Miles. “What do you think?”
Miles takes my hand into his lap. When he looks at me, I almost forget everyone else in the room. “I’ll support whatever’s best for you, okay?” he murmurs. “Don’t worry about me.”
Well, that’s an impossible ask. I’ll never not worry about him. About us.
Paula clears her throat, and when I look back around the table, she says, “I have something that might make this worth it…”
Cash furrows his brow. He hasn’t been looped into any of this, and again, it’s not surprising, given how little input he has in his own life.
Is this the first step in following that same path?
“We’d like to invite you to join Cash’s tour this summer as an opening act,” Paula continues. “Cash sells out arenas. It’ll be good exposure for you. Plus, people will love seeing country music’s new ‘it couple’ share a stage.”
A tour.
That’d be huge. It could launch my career. The kind of opportunity that might not come along again. But the cost is sitting beside me, fingers laced with mine, while strangers talk about me like I’m some pawn on their board.
“Let me guess,” Cash interjects. “This offer is contingent on them playing along. Signing on the dotted line.”
“Cash,” Paula warns.
“This is your decision, Summer.” Spencer lifts his hands, palms up.
“Sure it is,” Cash mutters.
Spencer keeps going, “Here’s the plan: you head to LA with Cash. You’ll do a few interviews to support the release and build buzz for your debut album. You’ll go out to dinner once or twice. The paps won’t need much more than that. Then you lie low until the tour starts.”
He and Paula lean back in their chairs, as if it’s already decided.
I look at Miles once more. His fingers drum on the glass tabletop.
“When do I need to decide?” My gaze darts around the room. Each of them stares at me with varying expressions, but one thing is consistent—they’re eager for me to agree.
Paula checks her watch. “Our jet leaves in two hours.”
My stomach drops. Miles’s fingers go still.
Two hours means I’m getting on a plane with Cash today, or I’m not going at all. I don’t get to sleep on it, or call my mama, or even take a breath and figure out what I actually want. They want an answer now.
My every instinct is telling me to run as far from this mess as I can get… But a spot on Cash’s tour? Is it worth the risk of getting wrapped up in whatever’s going on here? Because something is definitely going on.
Maybe I could help him? We are friends now—
“Summer?” Kendra prompts.
“So soon? What about all my stuff? I need to pack. I mean, how long will I be there?”
“We’ll work out getting your stuff there.” Kendra smiles, but it’s not as exuberant as her usual one.
“Rehearsals are scheduled for a month.” Paula checks her phone. “Then the tour starts.”
Okay. Chicago to LA isn’t the end of the world. It’s a few hours on a plane. People do long distance all the time. Relationships survive worse.
“It’s going to be a grueling month, though.” She doesn’t soften it. “Our timelines are condensed. Expect very little time off.”
So much for that, then.
A month without Miles sounds impossible, but he’ll be busy, too.
He’s in the middle of the playoffs. By the time rehearsals wrap, he’ll be closing in on the Finals.
Maybe there’s a version of this where we make it work.
Where he meets me on the road once the season ends.
The rumor about Cash and me will fizzle out by then.
And Cash doesn’t look thrilled about any of this, either—he’ll want out as soon as possible.
This tour is the kind of opportunity I came to Chicago for. A chance most artists wait years for. One I’ve been working toward for so long.
Five months ago, I would’ve said yes before they finished talking. But back then, I didn’t know what it felt like to be loved. To have someone steady me without asking me to shrink. To want to stay just as much as I want to go.
His knee brushes against mine under the table.
“Hey.” Miles lifts his chin toward the others. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”
Spencer glances at Paula. Then they both turn to Kendra.
“Make it quick.” Spencer stands, already moving toward the door. “The car will be here soon.”
The room empties, but Cash lingers at the door. He catches my eye, mouths I’m sorry, then the door clicks shut behind him.
I look at Miles. “This is—”
“You should take it.”