Simply put, Kaycee Starr stole Cash’s breath. She swept into the expansive living room where they’d assembled the band members, groundskeepers, Helene Montgomery – an older, harder version of her daughter, and Kaycee’s agent Franco DiAngelo. She flashed them all a smile. She was taller than he’d imagined. Maybe five-eight. But it was her heavily made-up eyes that captivated him, soft and deep green as the forest behind the trailer he’d grown up in. Made him want to reach out and pull her into the protective circle of his arms. She hadn’t been sleeping. He could see it in the way her eyes pinched at the corners, the slight hint of red at the bottom of the whites. And the way her shoulders pulled tight when she glanced at the four giant men dominating the room.
“Thank you for coming,” she s
