Knox
The silence stretches before she admits, “I don’t know. Maybe something else. Something different.”
My brows tug together. “What do you mean?”
She hesitates before glancing away, and I get the feeling she’s trying to decide how much she wants to tell me.
“The reason I came to Chicago… It wasn’t just to get away from Dakota.”
“Okay,” I say carefully. “Then what was it?”
“There’s an audition in a few days. For Broadway.”
All I can do is stare.
Broadway.
I don’t know what I expected her to say, but that wasn’t it. And yet, hearing it makes perfect sense. She didn’t just come here to hide. She came here for an opportunity.
“Oh, wow. That’s… huge.” I give my head a slight shake. “You never mentioned it.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to see if I could even get an audition.
And I was afraid if I told my family, they’d try to talk me out of it.
Or tell me I’m not good enough. Or remind me how unrealistic it is and why I should just stick with what people expect from me.
” Her voice catches at the end. “So I kept it to myself.”
My chest constricts. Not because I don’t believe she can do it, but because she’s spent way too long surrounded by people who make her doubt her worth and what she’s capable of.
And I really fucking hate that.
“You’re good enough,” I blurt.
Her eyes widen as they lock on mine.
Color rises in her cheeks as she tries to shrug off the compliment. “I don’t know if I am or not. But I want the chance to find out. I want people to take me seriously.” Her tone dips. “I want to take myself seriously.”
It’s the first thing she’s said this morning that actually sounds like her. Not her mother or the network. Just her.
I push away from the counter, moving closer before settling onto the stool beside her. “It kind of sounds like you already have your answer.”
She blinks. “What?”
“You go for it,” I say simply. “Not the show or whatever your mom thinks you should do.” I tip my head toward her. “But what you actually want.”
She stares, as if waiting for me to list all the reasons it won’t work.
When I remain silent, she says, “I don’t even know if I’ll get the part.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She frowns. “Of course it does.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Getting the part isn’t the point. Going after it is. Doing something because you care about it, and taking the chance to make your dream a reality… that’s what matters.”
A dozen emotions flicker across her face. It’s like she’s trying to decide whether I actually mean it or if I’m just saying the right thing to sound supportive.
“Whatever happens,” I add, my voice lower now, “I’ll be here for you.”
Her breath catches, and the surprise on her expression hits like a gut punch. I get the feeling she’s not used to hearing that. It makes me wonder if the support she’s gotten in the past came with strings attached. Conditions. Expectations. Trade-offs.
What Cheyenne needs right now is to get out of her head. Away from the looming specter of her mom, the show, and everything trying to drag her back into a life she’s no longer sure she wants.
And I know exactly where she can do that.
I straighten and grab my coffee. “Finish your French toast, Hollywood.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going on a little field trip.”
Her head tilts. “We are?”
“Yup.”
“Are you going to tell me where?”
I take a sip of my coffee, one side of my mouth hitching. “Nope. It’s a surprise.”
Her eyes narrow. “Knox.”
“Get dressed,” I say, already heading toward the hallway. “And wear comfortable shoes.”
A laugh slips out of her, and just like that, some of the heaviness hanging in the air disappears.
“You’re really not going to give me a hint?”
I glance back, holding her gaze long enough to see some of the tension in her shoulders ease.
“It’s where I go when I want to be alone,” I admit. “Or when I need to think.”
The truth of that comment lands hard, because this isn’t a place I bring people.
And that includes women.
Especially one I’m trying not to fall for and failing miserably at.
Her expression softens, as if she understands exactly what I’m saying even though I haven’t spelled it out.
“All right, McNichols. Consider me intrigued.”
I huff out a small laugh. “I knew you would be.”