Chapter Ten
Cody
Nashville was everything Cody remembered.
The city pulsed with music and light, honky-tonks bleeding sound onto Broadway, the air thick with the smell of barbecue and whiskey.
Cody had spent years living there, climbing through open-mic nights and writers' rounds until the industry finally noticed him. It had been home once. Now it felt like visiting a version of himself he’d outgrown.
Reid hated it. Cody could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his eyes never stopped moving, cataloging every face, every doorway, every vehicle that slowed near the hotel entrance.
Garrett had arrived a few days ahead and set up a command post in an adjoining suite to theirs at the hotel, complete with communication equipment and a digital map of the venue overlaid with security positions.
It had been the first time that Cody had met Garrett in person though he’d spoken to him a couple of times on video calls.
The first time that Reid had introduced Cody as his mate, Garrett had been stunned silent by the news making Reid chuckle.
After he’d regained his composure, Garrett had seemed pleased for Reid and greeted Cody warmly.
When they’d met in person, Garrett had enveloped Cody in what he could only have described as a bear hug, lifting him clean off his feet.
Cody had been shocked to hear the low rumbling growl that had vibrated in Reid’s chest, and he froze for a moment.
However, Garrett had taken one look at his brother then threw his head back and roared with laughter, much to Reid’s irritation.
“You just wait until it happens to you,” Reid had muttered with a frown.
Garrett had merely shrugged. “Bring it on. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Now, they were gathered around the table in the suite, pouring over a huge stack of papers.
“Twelve-person team,” Reid said, reviewing the plan with Garrett while Cody sat on the couch, watching them. He was supposed to be practicing the latest song he had written, but he was fascinated by watching the two brothers work.
“So that’s four inside the venue, six on the perimeter, two with Cody at all times,” Reid said.
Garrett nodded. “Plus Nashville PD has plainclothes officers working the event,” he added. “Detective Morrison is coordinating with them.”
Cody crossed the room to where his suit jacket was hanging in its garment bag on the closet door. He unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit.
“Do you really think he’ll try something at the event? There’ll be cameras everywhere.”
Reid and Garrett exchanged a look that Cody didn’t like.
“Cameras didn’t stop him from breaking into your hotel room,” Reid said. “People like this escalate. The letters are angrier now, and he knows about our relationship. That might tip him over the edge.
If he’s going to make a move, a high-profile public event is exactly the type of venue that appeals to this kind of person. Garrett and I know the way they think. We’ve dealt with men like him before.”
“Great,” Cody said flatly. “So, I’m basically bait.”
“You’re not bait. You’re a country singer going to an awards show, surrounded by the best security team in the country.”
Cody grinned at him. “Even if you do say so yourself?”
Reid shrugged unapologetically. He crossed the room and placed a hand on Cody’s Shoulder.
“I’ll be right there. You won’t be alone for a single second.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
* * *
The evening arrived with the kind of charged energy that reminded Cody of the moments before a concert, the hum of anticipation that lived in the air just before the lights went down.
Cody’s suit was midnight blue, perfectly tailored, with a subtle silver thread running through it. Diane had insisted on it, saying it would be perfect for him and she’d been right. Cody looked good in it. He looked like someone who belonged here.
Reid wore a dark suit that managed to look formal and elegant yet vaguely threatening. He’d refused to wear a tie. Garrett had laughed about it for ten minutes.
“Ready?” Reid asked, standing by the hotel room door.
Cody looked at his reflection one more time. The man staring back was different from the one who’d fled Nashville months ago. Stronger. Calmer. Still scared, but no longer drowning in it.
“I’m ready.”
The red carpet was a wall of sound and light. Photographers shouted his name. Reporters called questions. Cody smiled, posed, gave brief answers that Diane had pre-approved. Reid stayed just off-camera, close enough to touch, his presence a solid anchor in the chaos.
Inside the venue, the energy shifted from frenetic to electric.
The auditorium was packed. Cody spotted a lot of familiar faces, colleagues who waved and called out.
He shook hands, accepted congratulations on the nomination, and tried to ignore the constant scan of the room his brain was performing, searching every face for the face of the man from his concerts that he had committed to memory.
Their seats were close to the stage, third row center. Reid sat beside him, one hand resting on Cody’s knee under the table.
“Breathe,” Reid murmured.
“I am breathing.”
“No, you’re performing breathing. You need to actually breathe.”
Cody huffed a laugh and forced his shoulders to drop. The bond between them pulsed warm and steady, and Cody leaned into it, letting Reid’s calm flow through him.
The ceremony began. Awards were given, performances played, speeches made. Cody clapped and smiled and tried to stay present instead of disappearing into the anxiety that kept whispering what if, what if, what if.
When the presenter announced the Artist of the Year category, Cody’s heart slammed into his throat.
“And the winner is—Cody Brennan.”
The room erupted. Cody sat frozen for a half second before Reid’s hand squeezed his knee.
“Congratulations!” Reid said, beaming at him.
Cody shook his head incredulously. He stood, legs shaking and walked to the stage on autopilot. He accepted the award, gripped the podium.
“Wow,” he said, “This is…wow.” The audience laughed.
“I’m, uh—I wrote a speech. I had a whole thing planned just in case.
But standing up here right now, all I can think about is how many times I almost quit this year.
How many nights I thought about walking away from all of this, and how now, I’m so grateful that I didn’t. ”
The room went quiet.
“This year has been one of the hardest of my life. But it also brought me something I hadn’t even known I was looking for.” He glanced in Reid’s direction, and his mouth stretched into a warm smile. “It brought me a home and a partner I can rely on to be there for me when times get tough.
“So, I want to dedicate this award to him and to also say thank you to everyone who helped to get where I am today, including my manager, Diane, and everyone at my record label, and lastly to all my fans who have supported me by buying my records and showing up at my concerts. Thank you all.”
The applause was thunderous. Cody stepped off the stage, clutching the award, and made his way back through the crowd. People stopped him to shake his hand, to hug him. He smiled through all of it, but his eyes were looking for Reid.
Reid was standing at the edge of the aisle, waiting. He pulled Cody into a brief, fierce embrace. “I’m so proud of you,” he said against Cody’s ear.
“Let’s get through the rest of the night,” Cody whispered back. “Then you can take me home and show me how proud you are.”
Reid chuckled at Cody’s joke. “You can count on it.”
* * *
The backstage area was a labyrinth of corridors, green rooms, and loading docks. After the ceremony ended, Diane herded Cody toward a press room for winner’s photographs and a couple of approved interviews.
Reid stayed at his side through all of it. Garrett’s voice crackled periodically through the earpiece Reid wore, relaying updates to Cody from the team. Everything was quiet. No incidents, no threats detected.
Cody began to breathe easier.
“Almost done,” Diane said, checking her phone. “One more photo call, then we can head back to the hotel.”
“I need a minute,” Cody said, rubbing his face. The adrenaline crash was setting in, exhaustion replacing the electric high. “Is there somewhere quiet?”
“Hang on, I’ll check.” Diane pointed down a corridor. “Green room three is empty. I’ll come get you in ten minutes.”
Reid started to follow, but his earpiece buzzed. He pressed a finger to it, listening.
“Garrett needs me for two minutes,” Reid said, his expression tight. “Perimeter issue on the west side.”
“Go,” Cody said. “It’s just a few minutes. I’ll be fine in the green room. I’ll sit on a couch and stare at my award in awe.”
Cody had meant to make him smile, but Reid only frowned harder.
“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” Cody said. “Go.”
Reid hesitated, every line of his body resisting. Then he leaned in, kissed Cody’s temple, and disappeared down the hall.
Cody pushed open the green room door and stepped inside.
The room was small, with a couch, a mirror, and a table with a few small bottles of water sitting on it.
Cody set his award on the table and sank onto the couch, letting his head fall back.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
The crash after an adrenaline rush always made him tired.
He could feel himself begin to drift off to sleep and didn’t even think of fighting it.
Then the door opened and closed with a soft click.
Cody blinked his eyes open, expecting Diane.
The man standing in the doorway was tall, and thin, and somewhere in his mid-thirties.
He had dark hair and pale eyes that shone with a feverish intensity.
He wore a staff lanyard around his neck, the kind that backstage workers carried, but Cody would have recognized that face anywhere.
In his right hand, half-hidden against his thigh, the man was holding a knife.
Cody’s blood turned to ice.