Page 103 of The Roads We Follow

“No, I—”

“You should have told us the second you caught wind of this.”

“I should have, you’re right, and I’m sorry, but I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets,” I push. “I had no idea about a partner acquisition.”

“The difference, Raegan, is that the secrets I keep are for the betterment of the whole family, while yours are only to better yourself.”

Pain radiates through my chest as her words puncture and burrow.

Mama won’t look at me, and Adele won’t look anywhere else.

“I thought I could help,” I try one last time. “I still think what I’mwriting can help. Peter is estranged, his word is tainted and marred.” I press a hand to my heart. “But I’m Mama’s daughter.”

“And yet for weeks that daughter has been sneaking around behind our backs, spending her free time writing a book while she knows our true enemy is out there plotting an attack with his own.” She straightens and shakes her head. “Well, congratulations, Raegan. I hope your dream was worth it, because it likely just cost the family thirty years in the recording business.”

29

Micah

I’ve spent the last thirty minutes in recon mode—tracking Troy through the grounds, taking note of where his trailer is located and where his tour bus is parked, and trying not to be sick at the thought of what could be true. I’m finally on the way back to the tour bus to find Raegan when I see her bolt in the opposite direction.

The odd sight causes me to hustle, and soon I’m jogging through the moonlit grounds, following Raegan outside the private gate behind the stage and uphill to the main area. There are still hordes of people gathered everywhere I look, dancing and laughing and carrying on as if it’s still early in the evening when it’s after eleven. I can barely make out the shape of the phone pressed to her ear, and I have no clue who she’d be talking to at this hour or who would even be able to hear her in all of the commotion.

When I finally catch up on the back side of the grounds, she’s inside a misting tent that’s now a shelter from the wind. Her blotchy, tear-stained face sets off an internal alarm, and I stand to the sideand watch her pace while the tent canvas beats against the metal poles. Her hair has fallen from its twisted glory, and she swipes at the curls that stick to her damp cheeks as she speaks to whomever is on the other end of that conversation. Within five seconds I realize it’s Chip.

Concern heightens my senses as I put two and two together. Her family must know about the tell-all.

When she sees me, her pacing stops, and less than a minute later her call with Chip ends and her face crumples.

“You told your family?”

“No.” Her voice is strained, stressed. “The interviewer told them. Some producer got wind of my book deal with Fog Harbor and asked my mother about it tonight, in front of my whole family and whatever viewers and fans will tune in.”

“Wait, how did the media get wind of it?” I’m struggling to understand. “You haven’t even signed a contract yet.”

“I don’t know.” She lifts up her phone. “Chip swears it didn’t come from his publishing team. He said they’re all rock-solid individuals he’d bank his career on.” She releases an exasperated cry. “I only neededonemore day!”

Raegan continues to speak, but due to the raucous diehards who’ve begun a conga line to some twangy ’90s song blaring from a personal stereo system, I haven’t a clue what she’s saying. The line grows in popularity rapidly, and soon people are grabbing onto strangers.

I twist to scan the massive grounds for a better place for us to converse when I see the rotating neon lights of the Ferris wheel and the empty passenger cars.

“Come on.” I grab her hand and haul her through the admissions gate.

“Really, Micah? My family just imploded. The last thing I want to do is ride a Ferris wheel.”

“It’s this or being forced against our will to join the conga-line people. You choose.”

She jerks her head toward the ride, and a few seconds later I lift our joined hands to flash our green wristbands at the operating attendant. We climb into the passenger car without delay and secure the lap bar. We’re nearly twenty feet off the ground when the sound below fades enough for her to speak again in a normal volume.

“It was horrible, Micah. Adele is ... ” She shivers in her dress, and I pull off my sweatshirt and drape it across her bare shoulders. “I’ve only ever seen her this mad one other time—at Peter.”

I think back to all the stories I’ve heard about Peter’s transgressions against the Farrow family and the label and try to guess at which one caused the biggest stir for Adele specifically. “When he won the lawsuit against Farrow Music?”

“No, when Hattie spiraled after he chose to stay with Francesca and moved out of their house. His betrayal was so traumatic—it rippled through our entire family.” Raegan drops her head in her hands. “And now I’m the betrayer.”

I study her profile in the moonlight. “That’s a strong word. You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“Who cares what I believe—theybelieve it.” She twists in the car, and I notice then we’re almost at the top of our first rotation. “Adele accused me of putting my dreams above the family and jeopardizing a business transaction that could cost the future of the company, and Hattie couldn’t even face me once I told them how I’d determined Peter was the author behind the tell-all. And Mama ... ” Her chin quivers violently. “She was actually defending me until—until the ugly truth came out.” A stiff breeze rocks the passenger car as we halt near the top of the wheel. Raegan reaches out to grip the safety bar. “I have no idea how to fix this.”

---