He was dying to talk to them. Several had kids, and he hoped he could gain some kind of insight into how he could best handle this with Belle. He also wanted to assure them that he was still all in and that he would do his very best not to screw up their lives. But with Belle attached to him at the hip, he couldn’t make those calls and speak freely. He had to wait until she was asleep.
“How’d they take the news?” he asked Aaron.
“You know them. They’re all behind you. Everyone’s cool with switching things up to make it work.”
Wyatt had known they’d have his back, but he also knew this would bring them all stress. Darrell, the other guitarist, just bought a new ranch in Wyoming. Johnny, their drummer, had his third baby coming in a few months. Pete, the pianist, planned to buy his parents a house, and Mick, their violinist, was still paying off the debt from his last divorce.
Sure, they made a lot of money, but the largest chunk came from touring. They still had a ways to go to become one of the iconic country bands who never went out of style and brought in passive income from their past work. Sadly, in this industry, out of sight, out of mind. There was always someone waiting in the wings to steal the spotlight.
Unlike Wyatt, who played guitar, sang, and wrote music, it was much harder for the others to make money independently. And that didn’t take into consideration all their roadies. The men and women who traveled with the band, did all the hard labor, and relied on the concerts to pay their bills. People who Wyatt knew lived paycheck to paycheck.
“We also have the Grand Ole Opry next Sunday,” Aaron reminded him.
“Yeah, that should be fine. Thanks, man.”
“Hey, Paisley is playing at the Opry. She’ll be in town for a few days,” Aaron said before Wyatt disconnected. “Paisley Jessip.”
Wyatt smirked. “Is there any other Paisley?”
“You should meet up with her and talk about that duet you two have been wanting to do. It would be great timing. She just announced the debut of her next album, which is a month away from yours. Awesome cross-promotion opportunities there.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt rubbed at the fatigue in his forehead. “When I can find time.”
“She leaves Friday for the next leg of her tour. Catch her while she’s in town.”
Wyatt promised he would and disconnected. He blew out a long breath, his shoulders slumping under the weight of all his responsibilities. He braced his elbows on the railing.
“Is everything okay?”
Gypsy’s voice washed over him like a warm rain. He turned and leaned back against the railing. It was dark out now, and the porch light made her skin glow. She was such a beautiful woman. If she realized how sexy she was, it didn’t show. But there was so much more to her that kept bringing Wyatt back despite her steadfast rejection for the last three years.
She was book smart and street smart. She talked tough, but when it came right down to it, the woman had a heart of gold. She had a killer sense of humor, an intense work ethic, and her dedication to her son blew him away.
She might have been the same age as Francie, but she was far and away more mature. More present. More dedicated.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve got it handled.” His response was an automatic shift into leadership mode—don’t let ’em see you sweat. But when Gypsy didn’t respond, he realized he couldn’t stomach pretending around the one person he felt so real with. “Actually, no. Things aren’t okay. The truth is I’ve got nothing handled. As in nothing. There’s so much pressure, I can’t take a full breath. I’ve thrown a wrench into our schedule, and everything’s going to shit. I feel like I’m in a vise between doing what’s right for Belle and doing what’s right for my band.”
She met him at the railing and crossed her arms. “You may not want to hear this, but the kids always have to come first.”
“But whose kids? Because if I bail, the band can’t play. If the band doesn’t play, the roadies don’t work, and no one makes any money. So what do I tell the dad who gets paid by the hour to handle all my shit on the road? Sorry, I have to take a break to figure my life out? I have no idea how you’re going to feed your kids, but that’s not my problem? No matter what I do, I’m messing up the life of someone’s family.”
“Wow.” Her voice was soft and grave. “I never thought about it like that.”
Wyatt shook his head. “No one does.”
And damn it was lonely being the guy everyone was depending on to hold it together.
“How can I help?” Gypsy asked.
Wyatt didn’t immediately understand the question. He turned his head and looked at her. Her light eyes were direct, her expression open and compassionate. He huffed a laugh and shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“No one asks how they can help me,” he said, realizing this for the very first time. “They order me food, they manage my schedule, they book my hotels, but no one asks me what I need—me, personally. And to be honest, I have no idea what in the hell I need right now.”
Gypsy seemed to consider for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”