The Ex Factor - Erin McCarthy Page 0,80

prior commitments and Jolene just couldn’t do Wayne’s tour. It was risky, because it might piss some industry folks off, but for her sanity, she could not tour with that man.

Jumping in her truck, she called her brother. “Shane, do you know a good real estate agent?”

“You buying another house? Miss Moneybags. One deal with Wayne Rush and you’re blowing the wad.”

“Actually, I want to sell mine. It’s too big.” Expensive. It was expensive, and unnecessary. Why did one woman need six thousand square feet? She needed to scale back her life, get her priorities back to the values her mother had raised her with. Being proud of what you’d accomplished, and creating a home and a haven, that was what mattered.

“Sure. I’ll have my assistant set something up for you. But the nice thing about your house is the gated community.”

“I know, but I’m going to be going on tour anyway. It’s going to empty nine months out of the year. I don’t need it.” It had never felt like home, anyway, but rather like a very large hotel that she dropped her bags in when she was in town. Jolene drove out of the driveway of Wayne’s opulent mansion. When Jolene was twenty, she’d made an odyssey to Graceland, which she had thought was huge at the time. Wayne’s house put The King’s digs to shame. Wayne had twenty thousand feet of excess and splendor.

Being there day after day had reminded her that she might have come far from home but she didn’t want to wind up too big for her britches. That particular metaphor amused her. At least heartbreak the second time around was good for losing weight. Her jeans fit again.

She didn’t consciously drive to Chance’s house in East Nashville. She thought she was driving home and instead she found herself parked on the street in front of his house, just staring up at the door. She couldn’t go up and knock. He’d toss her out on her ear. She would deserve it after answering his calls.

Yet she opened the door to her truck with a creak anyways.

No fear. Her whole life she’d been working toward musical success. She needed to reach for emotional success now without fear.

Her pink boots, the ones Chance had given to her for her twenty-fifth birthday, carried her up the walkway to his front door and she knocked.

Chance was putting the finishing touches on a sandwich the size of his head when there was a knock of his front door. He had no idea who would be at the door other than solicitors, so he carried his turkey sandwich with him, taking a bite en route. He was starving. Writing songs for other people was hungry work. Besides, without booze to rely on as a companion he’d been eating like a horse and hitting the gym to keep from getting too lonely at night. It wasn’t keeping the loneliness fully at bay, but he was getting ripped and he didn’t miss the hangovers.

The last person he expected to see when he opened the door was Jolene, looking up at him under those long eyelashes she had used to advantage on him more than once. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey.” He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed, staring her down. She didn’t get to just show up on his doorstep and look gorgeous. It was fucking rude. He hadn’t recovered from the last time he’d seen her, when she had walked out and not returned his calls.

“So I was thinking that maybe I could offer to buy you a drink,” she said.

“I don’t drink anymore.” He hadn’t had a drop since that night. He was pretty damn proud of that as a matter of fact. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been necessary in order to respect himself. This way his choices were legitimately his.

She looked startled. “Oh. Well. That’s good. Was there a reason?”

“I don’t have liver failure or anything. I was just tired of doing things the same way. I needed a change.” He knew it was rude not to invite her in, but he wasn’t feeling generous. She had hurt him.

“That’s great, Chance. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, JoJo.” That was not what he’d wanted from her. He’d wanted her trust, her heart. But it was a start. “How have you been?”

She looked sad. Maybe a little bit hopeful.

It gave him a seed of hope himself. He stepped back. “Do you want to come in? It’s good to