The Chance: A Novel (24 page)

“No!” Peyton’s answer sounded louder than he probably intended. He waved in broad strokes at the chair near him. “I’ve been waiting. I wanna talk. Seriously.”

Ryan crossed the hotel room, pulled the chair close, and sat. For a long time he watched Peyton, wondering if the singer was sober enough to know how to talk. When it seemed like he might nod off, Peyton opened his eyes wide. “I got someone pregnant.”

Ryan took the news like a kick to his gut. “On this tour?”

“No.” He thought for a second. “Well . . . maybe.” He hung his head for a long moment. When he looked up, defeat rang in his tone. “I’m talking . . . about Caroline.” His words ran together. “Caroline Tucker. A girl in Savannah.” He squinted at Ryan. “We’re playing there soon. She’s . . . on my mind.” He looked straight at Ryan, and for a single breath he seemed sober. “I was her friend for two years . . . before we slept together. She was married.” He shifted, unsteady. “I almost . . . loved her.”

Almost loved her?
Ryan was tempted to punch Peyton. How could the guy think like that? He gritted his teeth. “What happened to the baby? To Caroline’s baby?”

“Don’t know.” Peyton downed half the liquor in his glass. “We didn’t talk . . . after that.”

Ryan stood and moved the Jack Daniel’s from the table to a cupboard in the small kitchen. Peyton didn’t seem to notice. Ryan grabbed a glass of water and swapped it for the one that still had a few ounces of liquor. “Drink that.” He dumped the whiskey in the sink and hesitated, his eyes on the door.

Listen to him, my son . . . don’t leave.

Ryan sat back down hard in his chair. The whispered words felt strangely like God speaking to him.
Okay, Lord, I’ll stay
.
Help me hear what you want me to hear
. He rested his forearms on the table and leaned closer. “Tell me about her . . . about Caroline.”

“She wasn’t happy.” Peyton swayed again. “Bad marriage.” He hung his head for a long moment. “She worked at a doctor’s office . . . Savannah, Georgia. I prolly shoulda given her some money.”

“Peyton, man, are you kidding me?” Disgust filled Ryan’s gut. “You don’t even know whether the baby was born? You never followed up?”

Peyton narrowed his eyes as if trying desperately to form a sober thought. “That’s why I asked you here.” He looked embarrassed for the first time since Ryan had walked in the room. “Life’s a mess.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Ryan felt the slightest sense of purpose. Maybe this was why God wanted him on the tour. Peyton Anders wasn’t exactly searching, but maybe he had reached the end of himself. “We can talk, but you need to be sober. Get some sleep.”

Peyton didn’t answer. He was already snoring.

R
yan placed the call as soon as he returned to his room. “I think God’s showing me the reason I’m out here.”

“I miss you.” Molly’s voice was marked by an endless sort of love.

He smiled. “Miss you, too.”

“Had to say that first.” Her smile sounded through the phone. “Okay, what happened?”

Ryan told her about Caroline Tucker, how she’d been unhappy and how she’d worked at a doctor’s office in Savannah. “He told me he almost loved her. It’s sad, Molly.”

“Maybe we should find her. See how she’s doing and if she had the baby.” A discouraged silence settled between them. “We’re taking a trip to Georgia, anyway.” She laughed lightly. “Not sure if I mentioned it.”

He loved her spunk. “Tell me.”

“One of my foundation kids, a seven-year-old boy.” Her voice fell a notch. “Everyone’s praying for a miracle. He’s very sick.”

“He wants a trip to Georgia?” Ryan’s heart filled at the thought of the sick child.

“Sort of.” She breathed in deep, struggling the way she always did when she talked about the kids who came through her foundation. “He wants to go to a Hawks game. Wants to meet Nolan Cook.”

“Mmm. I’m connecting the dots.”

“Exactly.” Her voice grew more enthusiastic. “We try to find this Caroline Tucker . . . see how she is, whether she kept the baby, and help our sick little guy meet Nolan Cook. All in one weekend.”

“Perfect.” They talked awhile longer, counting the days until they could be together. “No more tours after this.”

“I agree.” She laughed. “I love you, Ryan Kelly.”

“I love you, too. We need a date night.”

“Maybe read
Jane Eyre
out loud at The Bridge bookstore.”

“Mmmm. Downtown Franklin. Like old times.”

When the call ended, Ryan Googled the Hawks’ play-off schedule. The team would likely have a home game two days into Peyton’s tour break. The perfect time to go with the sick little boy and his family to Atlanta. Then they could take a trip to Savannah and try to find Caroline Tucker. So that maybe Peyton could apologize and change his ways. The singer might even find what he was really looking for.

A changed life.

Chapter
Nine

P
eyton Anders was making a comeback in country music.

After five years without a tour, he had released an album last year that was once again tearing up the country charts. In any other situation, guitar player Ryan Kelly wouldn’t have considered leaving the comfort of his home studio and touring. He’d done that for years, before he connected again with Molly Allen and married her, before he took a job working as a musician in Nashville.

Now he and Molly lived in Franklin, Tennessee. She ran a foundation that had transitioned from helping orphaned animals to teaching music to disadvantaged kids to granting the wishes of terminally ill children. Every night Molly came home with stories of lives changed. Between that and his studio work, Ryan loved everything about being home.

The opportunity with Peyton had come up a few months ago. His manager had contacted Ryan’s. “He wants you and only you,” the man said. “You’re the best. Peyton knows that.”

Ryan was going to turn it down until he talked to Molly.

“Peyton is searching, I really believe that.” They’d met the country singer a year ago at a benefit dinner. Molly had thought then that he was looking for answers to the emptiness in his life. Now she looked thoughtful. “Maybe you’re supposed to go.”

He thought about the nights away, how much he’d miss her. They’d been married only a year. He could never have enough time with Molly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go play for him.” She framed her face with his hand. “You really are the best, Ryan. And maybe something big is going to come from it.”

A week later, he was confirmed on the tour, and now they were a month into it. So far, Ryan couldn’t think of a single redeeming reason why God would want him living out of a bus and playing guitar for the country star.

The guy was as bad as he’d always been rumored to be. He bragged about his drinking and he was reckless with the fans—hanging with girls in his private bus until they pulled out of a venue sometime in the wee hours of the morning. When they stayed overnight at a hotel—the way they were tonight—the girls didn’t leave until checkout the next morning.

But this Saturday night something was different about Peyton.

Portland’s Rose Garden was packed—Molly’s old stomping grounds. Peyton was back on top as a performer, there was no doubt about that. But when the show ended, he pulled Ryan aside. “You busy tonight?”

Ryan would Skype with Molly for an hour, but otherwise he would be in his bus bunk, same as the rest of the band. “I have time. What’s up?”

“I wanna talk.” He looked nervous.

“Okay.” They were just minutes off stage from the show. Ryan wiped the sweat off his brow and slung his guitar over his back. “We’re here overnight. The hotel lobby?”

“I have a suite. How about there?”

R
yan knew Peyton was drunk as soon as he walked into the singer’s room. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat on the table, and Peyton leaned back in his chair, his eyes barely open.

“Sorry.” Ryan hesitated at the door. “Maybe another time.”

“No!” Peyton’s answer sounded louder than he probably intended. He waved in broad strokes at the chair near him. “I’ve been waiting. I wanna talk. Seriously.”

Ryan crossed the hotel room, pulled the chair close, and sat. For a long time he watched Peyton, wondering if the singer was sober enough to know how to talk. When it seemed like he might nod off, Peyton opened his eyes wide. “I got someone pregnant.”

Ryan took the news like a kick to his gut. “On this tour?”

“No.” He thought for a second. “Well . . . maybe.” He hung his head for a long moment. When he looked up, defeat rang in his tone. “I’m talking . . . about Caroline.” His words ran together. “Caroline Tucker. A girl in Savannah.” He squinted at Ryan. “We’re playing there soon. She’s . . . on my mind.” He looked straight at Ryan, and for a single breath he seemed sober. “I was her friend for two years . . . before we slept together. She was married.” He shifted, unsteady. “I almost . . . loved her.”

Almost loved her?
Ryan was tempted to punch Peyton. How could the guy think like that? He gritted his teeth. “What happened to the baby? To Caroline’s baby?”

“Don’t know.” Peyton downed half the liquor in his glass. “We didn’t talk . . . after that.”

Ryan stood and moved the Jack Daniel’s from the table to a cupboard in the small kitchen. Peyton didn’t seem to notice. Ryan grabbed a glass of water and swapped it for the one that still had a few ounces of liquor. “Drink that.” He dumped the whiskey in the sink and hesitated, his eyes on the door.

Listen to him, my son . . . don’t leave.

Ryan sat back down hard in his chair. The whispered words felt strangely like God speaking to him.
Okay, Lord, I’ll stay
.
Help me hear what you want me to hear
. He rested his forearms on the table and leaned closer. “Tell me about her . . . about Caroline.”

“She wasn’t happy.” Peyton swayed again. “Bad marriage.” He hung his head for a long moment. “She worked at a doctor’s office . . . Savannah, Georgia. I prolly shoulda given her some money.”

“Peyton, man, are you kidding me?” Disgust filled Ryan’s gut. “You don’t even know whether the baby was born? You never followed up?”

Peyton narrowed his eyes as if trying desperately to form a sober thought. “That’s why I asked you here.” He looked embarrassed for the first time since Ryan had walked in the room. “Life’s a mess.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Ryan felt the slightest sense of purpose. Maybe this was why God wanted him on the tour. Peyton Anders wasn’t exactly searching, but maybe he had reached the end of himself. “We can talk, but you need to be sober. Get some sleep.”

Peyton didn’t answer. He was already snoring.