Page 69 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“Baylor? Who is moving on to next week?”

A shiver travels down my spine, and my pulse roars in my head. Do I pick my friend, or do I pick the girl who seems like she’s out to destroy me just to protect my ass? It would be so easy to get rid of Aspen. But if I’m the reason she goes home, there’s no way she won’t take it out on me later.

“Baylor? Are you good?” Valerie taps me on the arm. Everyone is waiting for my response.

I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath. “Sage. Sage is moving on.”

“Thank you, Baylor. Congratulations, Sage, you have made it into the final four. Go ahead and join the other girls.” Jarrod waves her off. “Aspen, I’m sorry, but this is the end of the road for you.”

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, Jarrod, but it was a good run.” She gives the diplomatic answer to the cameras, but once the attention is taken off her, she looks at me dead in the face and mouths something that looks a lot likeI know who you are.

the confessionals

Producer:That was a tough decision you all had to make out there. How are you doing after that?

Katherine:I’m fine. It was a lot of pressure, but at least I didn’t have to be the deciding factor.

Valerie:I’m just glad I didn’t have to completely decide someone’s fate.

Producer:Baylor? Are you okay?

A producer off camera is heard yelling at someone to get Baylor water.

Baylor’s face is ashen, and she’s unresponsive.

Producer:Cut the cameras, damn it!

27

baylor

Dating Show or Dateline

I’ve been slowly spiralingsince the elimination. There’s no way Aspen knows who I am. That’s probably not even what she was saying.

But what if it was?The voice in my head nags at me, sending me deeper into a rabbit hole of anxiety over my secret identity being exposed.

I pace around my room, clutching my head as I wrap my mind around this whole thing. I don’t know how she would’ve figured anything out, but knowing Aspen, there’s a strong likelihood this will come back to bite me. I wouldn’t put it past her to tell the world what she thinks she knows just to get back at me for sending her home. And once she does, I have no hope of making it to the end. I’ll lose my job and all of this—joining the show, believing a career in music could be a possibility, wanting to prove my parents wrong—will have been for nothing.

Even worse, I’ll probably lose Dusty, too.

No.No.

Dwelling on hypotheticals isn’t going to help me. Until something happens—ifanything even does—I can’t let myself worry about it.

I take a few deep breaths, mentally running through this week’s schedule. All four of us remaining women have solo dates before we pack up and head to Chattanooga for our first live concert. My date is first, followed by Valerie, Sage, and Katherine. Going first is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because I’ll get to see Dusty sooner. A curse, because after our date ends, I’ll have to wait longer to see him again. That is, unless he sneaks away from Alexagainto come see me. I have a feeling that will happen less often now that we’re getting down to the wire, though.

I’ve been waiting for Dusty in this clearing for at least an hour. I shift my weight back and forth as I twist the rings on my fingers.

Maybe he’s not going to show up. Maybe this was some kind of test.

There’s no one else out here, either. Just me and the microphone pack attached to my back. My heart races at the idea that this could be a ploy to get me alone in the middle of nowhere. I look down, surveying my wardrobe choice for today. I’m wearing jeans and boots, so horrible choices for running away from a serial killer. I’m not Catholic, but I still sign the cross as I send up a desperate plea to not get murdered out here. Thisdatingshow would turn intoDatelinereal quick if that happened.

Before my thoughts spiral even more out of control, the sound of hooves clomping against the ground gets my attention. I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, Dusty is on a horse.He’s leading a second one behind him, and he may be a country singer, but his farm roots sure are showing.

“Hello, darlin’.” He waves from his seat, high in the saddle. “Sorry to make you wait so long. Petunia here was a bit fussy.”

I nearly snort at the horse’s name. I stifle the laugh in my throat as I reply, “That’s okay. I only thought I was going to be murdered for about twenty minutes.”

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