It won’t hurt her to figure something like that out on her own. I bet Scarlett hasn’t mowed a lawn since she was seventeen. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s a lot of things she hasn’t done, like go grocery shopping, change a light bulb, clean out a drain, or plunge a toilet.
Yeah, I’m totally not telling her it’s out of gas.
I kick my legs out in front of me and relax in my chair, content to sit there and watch her figure out what the problem is.
She pushes on the choke several times and tries to start it. Nothing. She flips the lawnmower over and meticulously cleans out every blade of grass from underneath and then tries to start it again. Nothing. I choke back a laugh when she digs out the manual and tries to troubleshoot it that way. Nothing.
After thirty minutes of failed attempts, Scarlett puts her hands on her hips and marches toward me.
“Well, are you going to help me or not?”
“I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”
She gives me a well look.
“What’s the magic word?”
She growls. “You drive me insane.”
I grin. “Nope, that’s not it. Let me give you a hint. It’s one word. Chloe has been using it since she was two, so I’m confident you can, too.”
“Please,” she says between gritted teeth.
I push up from my chair and walk across the yard. “I would love to help you out, Scarlett. Why did you wait so long to ask?”
She grumbles something as she follows behind me. I grab a gas can from the garage, fill up the lawnmower, and start it on the first pull.
“Voila.”
Scarlett’s jaw drops. “That’s it? It just needed gas?”
“Yup.”
“Why do I feel like you knew that all along?”
“Because I did.”
“Dad!”
Scarlett and I turn at the sound of Chloe’s voice. She’s standing at my back door, looking toward the garage.
“Over here, Chlo,” I holler.
Chloe swivels around and darts across the yard barefoot then skids to a halt a few feet in front of us. “Can I please have more time on the iPad? I promise I won’t—whoa. You’re…” Chloe blinks several times. Her eyes dart to mine and then back to Scarlett. “I…I can’t believe it…You’re…”
“Chloe.” I swat her arm. “You’re being rude.”
“Dad, that’s Scarlett Kincaid.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“The Scarlett Kincaid.”
“I’m sorry about Chloe,” I whisper to Scarlett, embarrassed. “She’s normally not like this.”
“It’s okay.” Scarlett wipes her hand off on her shirt and holds it out to Chloe. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Chloe’s jaw hangs open as she clasps her hand around Scarlett’s. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m a huge fan. Like a huge fan. My dad has told me so much about you.”
Scarlett lifts a brow and looks at me. “He has?”
“She means your dad.”
“No, I don’t.” Chloe shakes her head, drops Scarlett’s hand, and looks at me. “You told me all about her.” She turns her attention back on Scarlett. “He said you were his best friend and that he knew you’d be a star one day. ‘She was born for it,’ isn’t that what you said, Dad?”
Scarlett’s eyes search mine, looking for the truth, and I feel my cheeks heat.
“Your dad talks about you all the time, too,” Chloe says, continuing her one-sided conversation. “He’s so proud of you. Sometimes, we just sit and listen to your music. He knows every song of yours word for word, just like me. And a few months ago, he let me play that old guitar that’s under your bed.”
Scarlett’s head whips toward Chloe, and I’m thankful for the momentary reprieve of her knowing gaze. “He still has that?”
“Oh, yeah. And it’s in perfect shape. Rick cleans it regularly and makes sure all the strings are in good condition. He’s even had it tuned a few times.”
“Why would he do that?” Scarlett asks softly, although I’m certain her words weren’t meant to be said out loud. Chloe answers anyway.
“Because he was waiting for you to come home.”
“He…what?”
“Well, he didn’t say that exactly, but that’s the vibe I got. He wanted to make sure it was ready for you when you came home.”
Scarlett blinks and looks down at the ground. There’s a long pause, and then she glances up. Her wide, brown eyes are swimming with tears. “And I never did.”
“Chloe, can you go inside and…do something?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“I don’t care. Something. Wash your hair.”
“But my hair is clean.”
“Do your homework.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Chloe,” I snap.
She holds up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”
I wait until she’s out of earshot to turn to Scarlett. A tear trickles down her cheek, and I fight the urge to wipe it away.
“You were right.” Her voice cracks. “I was selfish. I am selfish. I left without a second thought and broke my daddy’s heart.”
“Scarlett—”
She shakes her head and swallows. “Please, don’t. Don’t try to justify my actions.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.” She brushes away the tears and looks up. “I’m gonna go in and get cleaned up.”
“Okay.”
She steps away, and I reach for the lawnmower.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll finish it later. Just not right now. I need a minute to myself.”
“I don’t mind. Go take a shower and relax. I’ve got this.”
Her bottom lip quivers, and she nods before slipping into the house.
It only takes about twenty minutes to mow Rick’s lawn, and then another ten to weed-eat. When I’m finished, I top both tools off with gas and make sure they’re ready to use next time. When I’m stepping out of the garage, I notice Scarlett standing by her dad’s back door.
Her wet hair hangs over her shoulders. Her eyes aren’t red or puffy, but they hold a sadness that tugs at my heart.
“The yard is good for at least another two weeks.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Tucker?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you and Chloe like to come over for dinner tonight? I’m cooking.”
“You?” I fight back a grin and expect a smart-ass comment, but it never comes. Instead, Scarlett’s back stiffens, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Six o’clock. Come or don’t come. I don’t care either way.”
She darts back inside before I have a chance to tell her we’ll be there.
“That was amazing.” I wad up my napkin and toss it on the plate. “I’m stuffed.”
“You did a wonderful job, sweetheart,” Rick says, rubbing his belly. “And you didn’t even burn the house down.”
Scarlett chucks her napkin at her dad, and we all laugh.
“What’s for dessert?” Chloe asks.
“Chloe—”
“What? Like you weren’t thinking it.”
I give her a pointed look. She knows better than to be impolite at someone else’s dinner table.
“It’s okay. I actually have two dessert options.” Scarlett walks out of the room and returns a minute later with a dish in each hand. “We have apple pie and cherry cheesecake.”
She sets both desserts down in the middle of the table, and I groan. “Cherry cheesecake is my favorite.”
“I know.” She smiles. “That’s why I made it. And apple pie is Dad’s favorite, although I didn’t make it. Sorry, Daddy, yours is from Scooter’s.”
“I don’t care where it came from, Scarlett girl, so long as I know where it’s goin’.”
“Where’s it goin’?” Chloe asks.
Rick pats his stomach. “
Right in here.”
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “He’s totally not joking. What’s your favorite dessert, Chloe?”
“Double fudge brownies.”
“Ooh. Good choice. Next time, I’ll make some.”
“Really?”
“Heck, yeah. Who doesn’t love double fudge brownies? But since I don’t have them tonight, which would you like to have?”
Chloe contemplates for all of two seconds and blurts, “Cheesecake.”
“More pie for me,” Rick says, sliding the apple pie across the table. He grabs his fork and goes to dig in.
“Dad!”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to share?”
“Would you like a slice, sweetheart?”
“No, but we have guests.”
“Chloe already asked for cheesecake, and you know what Tucker is havin’, which means…I get the pie.”
Scarlett just shakes her head when her dad scoops out a bite and shovels it into his mouth.
We’re all laughing and talking when the front door opens. Alexis walks in with two Tupperware containers and stops when she sees us sitting around the table. Her smile falters as her eyes sweep past Scarlett, and while I understand where the animosity comes from, it pisses me off. Scarlett deserves some credit for trying, and Alexis seems unwilling to give it to her.
“What did you guys have for dinner?”
“Grilled chicken, loaded baked potatoes, and asparagus,” Chloe says, looking proud since she helped Scarlett cook.
“Tucker, you didn’t have to cook for them,” she chides.
“I didn’t. Scarlett did.”
Alexis laughs and then sobers when she realizes she’s the only one. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“As a stroke.” We all look at Rick, and he shrugs. “Too soon?”
“Way too soon. And you are talking about my sister, Scarlett, right?”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe?” Scarlett asks.
“Because you don’t cook.”
Scarlett pushes away from the table and stands up. “How do you know? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you well enough. You don’t cook. You don’t clean. You don’t come home. In fact, I don’t know what you can do other than prance around and look pretty.”
The defeated look Scarlett wore earlier is right back on her beautiful face, and I could kill Alexis for putting it there. We all sit stunned, watching the sisters stare each other down. Twelve years ago, it would’ve ended in a screaming match, but Scarlett seems to have lost that fire inside of her.
Or maybe she’s just matured more than any of us have given her credit for.
The thought rolls through my head at the same time Scarlett grabs her plate and disappears into the kitchen. I hear her put it in the sink. A few seconds later, the back door opens and closes.
6
~Scarlett~
I can’t stand it for another second.
I set my plate in the sink and hurry outside where the heat is still oppressive. It’s so humid, it’s like breathing in mist.
But it’s always been quiet out here, and at least I don’t have Lexi’s hateful eyes staring back at me.
“Go apologize,” I hear Dad say. His voice is hard, and it pisses me off that Lexi’s getting him riled up. The man just had a stroke, for God’s sake!
“Absolutely not,” she replies.
“I’m disappointed in you, Lexi. She’s your sister. She cooked a delicious meal, and you just made her feel like shit.”
“I can’t believe this. She’s back for a few days, and you’re already on her side.”
I roll my eyes and sit on the picnic table. I may be the celebrity, but Lexi’s always been the dramatic one in the family.
“There aren’t sides,” Dad yells. “We’re a family.”
“Family doesn’t leave and never come back,” Lexi counters. “Your little girl went twelve years without so much as setting foot in her hometown. She didn’t even come when I graduated high school.”
“She was on tour,” Dad says.
In Japan, as a matter of fact. I hated that I missed her graduation, and I tried to reschedule the tour, but it was set in stone before the school chose a graduation date that year.
“Or my college graduation,” Lexi continues. I really should have put A/C in Dad’s house last year so we could keep the house closed up and I wouldn’t have to hear this.
“She had an award show,” Dad replies.
I won a Grammy for Small Town Girl that night. I called Lexi to congratulate her on her graduation. She refused to speak to me and didn’t even thank me for the car I gave her as a gift.
“What about when Lucy and Declan were born?”
My heart stalls.
“She tried,” Dad reminds her. “You told her not to.”
I wanted to be here so badly. I called Lexi at least once a week for both kids and told her to be sure to give me a heads-up when she went into labor because I wanted to hold her babies more than anything.
Instead, she told me that it wasn’t a big deal and that I’d see them later. She wanted the births to be quiet and intimate.
And she made it clear that that didn’t include me.
So, I sent all of the items on her registry and paid for a year’s worth of housekeeping.
“And what about Lucy’s first birthday?” she asks, referring to her oldest daughter.
Dad doesn’t respond to that one. The truth is, by that time, it was clear to me that I wasn’t needed or wanted here, so I stopped making an effort. It was easy to get swept up in my life in Nashville and let Lexi live her life here in New Hope.
“She must really love her family, huh, Dad?”
I can hear the sarcasm and the hurt in my sister’s voice, and then the door slams shut. I hang my head in my hands and sigh.
Up until Dad’s stroke, I never felt guilty about my decision to move to Nashville. It was the best thing I ever did. My career is the absolute best part of my life.
But since I’ve been home, the guilt has set in like a lead weight in my stomach, and I cried myself to sleep last night.
Not coming home didn’t mean that I didn’t love my family or that I didn’t think about them. Because I did. I made sure that Lexi and her family had everything they could ever want and need.
And I’ve taken care of my dad. This house is state-of-the-art. I supplement his retirement income so he never has to worry. And he comes to stay with me in Nashville several times a year.
I love my family, and I take care of them.
But I should have come home more.
I can admit that to myself now.
I take a deep breath and stare up at the bright moon that’s just moved out from behind a stray cloud. The stars glow. Crickets chirp, and I can see lightning bugs whizzing about in Tucker’s yard.
It’s as familiar as my own face, even after all this time.
But it’s still not home.
“Do you think this thing will hold the two of us?” Tucker asks. I’m not startled, I heard him come through the back door. I don’t say anything but slide to my right, giving him space to sit next to me.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shrug, but I still don’t say anything. I’m afraid that once I start talking, I won’t stop because Tucker’s always been one of the few people that I can pour my guts out to, and he’s not that person anymore.
God, I miss him.
He leans back, watching the night sky. I can feel the heat coming off him. He’s not a boy anymore. No, Tucker grew into a strong, handsome man with muscles for days. His smile is kind, with just a hint of mischief. He smells like soap, and he makes me yearn for things I never knew I wanted.
I still don’t know that I want them, not really.
But I need to talk about this, and Tucker deserves an apology.
“I always felt lost,” I say, breaking the silence. “Like I was walking around in a fog, trying to find my way�
�attempting to find that special place where I belonged. I never found it. When I got to Nashville, everything just sort of clicked into place for me. I can’t explain it, but for the first time, I felt at home. I should’ve come back to New Hope. But, honestly, I didn’t think anyone would care if I stayed away.”
“Scarlett—”
“Just let me get this out, okay? I need to get it out.” Tucker nods, and I continue. “My relationship with Lexi was rocky at best, and it didn’t take long after the move to find out that my friends weren’t really my friends. They were acquaintances. And let’s not forget how being in a small town means that people talk like you’re not standing right there, listening to every word. I knew what they all said about my mama, and how her actions made them feel about me. I’m not stupid. Lexi was too little to hear it, or maybe she just didn’t care. But I did.
“And then there was you…”
“Me?” he asks, surprised.
“You probably won’t believe this, but I thought about you every single day. I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to tell you about whatever cool thing happened that day, or just because I wanted to hear your voice.” I feel the tears welling up again, but I swallow hard, determined not to cry in front of this man twice in one day.
“Why didn’t you?” he asks softly and reaches over to take my hand in his. With just that little touch, it’s as if the whole world is set to rights.
“Because I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve your friendship. God, Tucker, I was a bitch to you in school, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I wish I had a good reason for it, but I don’t. I was just mean and lost and…you know that saying that we hurt the ones we love the most?”
He nods, not looking me in the eyes. I want to hug him close and beg him to forgive me. I settle for squeezing his hand.
“You were my best friend. I didn’t treat you like that in public, but it’s the truth. You were my only friend. And I hated that. I hated that no one else saw the Scarlett you did. And rather than fix it—fix myself—I took it out on you. God, Tucker, can you ever forgive me?”
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