“Unless the old man broke them all while I was gone, there should be some.” Jace went to the cabinet they’d been kept in and, sure enough, pulled out two glasses. He set them in front of the bottle and then mirrored Blue’s stance.
“You got anything to mix it with?” his friend asked. “Like...what the hell do you mix with it? Some kind of cola?”
“I didn’t see any in the fridge.” After they’d stared at the bottle for another minute, Jace looked at Blue. “There’s beer in there, though. The shitty cheap stuff, but it’s beer.”
The relief was plain on his face. “I’ll take a beer. We’ll save the whiskey for another day.”
Jace grabbed a couple of cold ones from the fridge and they took them out to the porch to sit. After popping the top and taking a long swig, he grimaced and balanced the can on the arm of the chair. “He obviously didn’t put a dime into keeping up the house. Seems like he could have spent a little more on his beer.”
“Speaking of that,” Blue started, but then he stopped talking, looking uncomfortable.
“I figure people spent a lot of time feeling sorry for poor Brian Morrow, whose son got famous and never called or bought his daddy a mansion.”
“Pretty much. Not me, mind you. I wouldn’t have sent him a dollar.”
“I sent him a dollar,” Jace said. “Or rather a check with enough zeroes so it needed a comma. He signed for it at the post office, but never cashed it.”
Blue was quiet for a few seconds, considering that. “It was generous of you, whether he cashed it or not. He didn’t deserve it.”
“He never hit me, though. He was mean, but it could’ve been worse. And he fed me and kept a roof over my head, so I felt like I owed him for that. I guess he thought differently.”
“So tell me what it’s like to be a country star.”
Jace was surprised—and thankful—he’d managed to wait that long before asking. “I ain’t gonna lie, Blue, the tour was exhausting and I’m glad it’s over, but I’m living a pretty good life. What have you been up to?”
Blue took a swig of the shitty beer before answering. “I’m living a pretty damn good life, too, though my truck ain’t as sweet as yours. I married Kira.”
It took Jace a second to put the name to a face, and then he rocked his chair back onto two legs. “No way in hell. She wouldn’t give you the time of day back in school.”
“Hey, I’m a persistent bastard. And patient.” He shrugged. “Got three kids—a girl and twin baby boys—so you know she’s giving me the time of day now.”
“Congratulations, man. When did you move back?”
“After I got my degree, I spent a few months in the city and it took me about two weeks to realize I’m a country boy at heart. I lucked out and I can do most of my job remotely, and I spend a couple of days in the city every two or three weeks.”
After a moment, Jace snorted out a laugh and shook his head. “I can’t believe you have a family. I guess I know how much time has gone by, but it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
Except when it came to Ava. Every day he’d been away from her felt like a year, although she was still as clear in his mind as the last time he saw her. And that hurt, because the last time he saw her, she’d had tears streaming down her face while she called him names that would have made her mama wash her mouth out.
“It’s been a minute, for sure,” Blue said, drawing him back to the present. “You seen her yet?”
“No. I came straight here, so you’re actually the first person I’ve seen at all.” He’d done nothing but think about her, but he hadn’t actually seen her.
“You’ll see her drive by, more than likely, since her parents still live up the road. She’s got a sweet red Wrangler, with big old tires and the top off more often than not, even though it’s getting cold.”
That made Jace smile. She always was a country girl. “It’s inevitable that I’ll run into her at some point.”
“She’ll be at the funeral. Everybody will. And unless you plan on cooking for yourself, you’ll see her at the café.”
Jace turned to frown at him. “She’s still waiting tables?”
“Joe and Beth bought it a couple years back, when Elmer decided he didn’t want to do it anymore. Beth’s there quite a bit, but Ava and Whitney basically run the place together. You remember her?”
“Of course.” Whitney Cassidy had been Ava’s best friend basically since birth, so it was nice they were still close.
But it hurt to think Ava was still doing the same work she’d been doing since she was fifteen, and probably hating him a little more every day since he’d left her in St. Louis.
He’d called her one time, the day he signed his record deal. High on optimism, he’d given her the news and told her he’d have money soon and he’d send her a plane ticket because he missed her.
She’d told him what he could do with his plane ticket and reminded him he made a choice before hanging up on him. When he worked up the courage to try again, hoping she’d cooled down and would at least listen to him, her number was no longer in service. He’d gotten the message.
“You teaching those kids of yours to fish?” Jace asked, needing to change the subject from Ava.
Blue gave him a knowing, sympathetic look and then nodded. “You know it. The twins are just babies, of course, but my little girl can already bait her own hook.”
They talked about Blue’s kids for a while, their conversation illustrated with what felt like three hundred pictures saved to Blue’s phone. Jace didn’t mind, though. He was happy for the guy, even if the picture of a tiny blonde girl holding up a fish and grinning at the camera gave him a pang of sadness.
He had everything a man could want. He was living his dream. He had more money than a man needed. But he didn’t have a little girl of his own to teach to fish—a little girl with Ava’s eyes and tumble of dark hair.
Jace knocked back the rest of the beer and tried to decide if he wanted another. It tasted like piss, but it was going to be a long and lonelier than usual night.
Chapter Two
Ava had a routine that worked for her. The café closed at seven, which was early for a restaurant, but Cottonwood Creek was an early to bed and early to rise kind of town. She’d take a shower, then settle in front of the TV with a book or her phone to keep her company during the commercials. Since her parents manned the café from opening to eleven, she didn’t have to get up early, so it was often midnight before she was tired enough that she had a good chance of sleeping when she went to bed.
But tonight she walked through the door of her two-bedroom mobile home and plopped onto her couch with a deep sigh. Damn that man for coming back and digging up the ghost of their past. Not that it had been buried particularly well or deep, but she’d at least tossed a little dirt over it.
Now that ghost had been dragged kicking and screaming back into the light, and Ava was going to have to wrestle it back into the ground.
Standing, she went to the kitchen and, even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea, dragged a chair away from the table. The shoe box she was after was in the back of the tiny cabinet over the microwave that she never used for anything but lightbulbs because she couldn’t reach it without dragging one of the kitchen chairs over.
She hadn’t opened it in years. Maybe she should have thrown it away, but it wasn’t that easy to toss out memories, no matter how painful they were. Now she stood on the chair and pulled out the lightbulbs until she could get the shoe box free.
Once upon a time, she’d covered it in stickers that represented her dreams because that’s what the box was. Her box of dreams, she’d called it, and as her second foot hit the linoleum, she knew she should take it out to the end of her driveway and set it on fire. Just grab the gas can she kept for the lawn mower, douse the box and d
rop a match on it.
Poof! All those memories of Jace would go up in flames in seconds.
But they wouldn’t. Not really. She’d learned the hard way that she didn’t need the photographs to keep her memories of Jace Morrow alive. There was no out-of-reach lightbulb cabinet in her mind and sometimes, in moments of weakness, she’d close her eyes and remember how sweet it had been between them.
After taking a deep breath, she lifted the lid and set it aside. She hadn’t gone through the box in a long time, but as she picked up pictures, ticket stubs and other bits and pieces of memorabilia they’d collected over the years, the memories attached to each rolled through her mind like a home movie reel. And the guitar picks. There were a ton of those. Most of the pictures were taken in Cottonwood Creek, but there was at least a roll from St. Louis. The ones of them singing together, her watching him with adoring eyes while he played the guitar she’d bought for him, were the hardest. They looked so damn happy.
They had been that damn happy, until Carrie Bond walked up to their table after a show and sat down.
The hardest memory to face was at the bottom of the box and she didn’t lift out the cheap, coil-bound notebook. She’d loved singing, especially with Jace, but it was writing song lyrics that brought her the most joy. Poetry set to music felt like storytelling straight from the heart, and the notebook was full of her emotions in word form.
She’d stopped writing the words down when Jace left. Not only because she didn’t see the point of writing songs they wouldn’t sing, but because she didn’t want to capture those emotions on paper.
Bits of songs still came to her. Words or a snippet of melody would pop into her head, but she never sat down and made them a song. Maybe she should have, she thought now. Maybe getting the emotions out on paper would have put her feelings for Jace to rest.
Headlights splashed through her window and Ava’s breath caught in her throat. Jace.
But the engine sound was wrong for a truck like his and once she’d gotten over the initial thought that Jace might actually show up at her door, she recognized it as her mother’s car and she smiled. She’d been pretty sure she’d be getting a phone call tonight, but she hadn’t expected her to show up in person.
Her mom knocked twice and then let herself in. As she entered, Ava was shoving the closed box in the fridge—for lack of a better hiding place—and seconds later, she was wrapped in one of her mom’s warm hugs. She breathed in the familiar scent of the very light, crisp perfume her mom favored while she rubbed her back in comforting circles.
She didn’t cry, though. She rarely did and even then, they were usually tears of anger and frustration. Except when Jace had left her. She’d cried herself sick then, until the anger kicked back in and she picked herself up, dusted herself off and moved back to Cottonwood Creek.
“I would have been here sooner, but we had picked up some groceries on the way home and had to put them in the freezer before they thawed,” her mom said, finally releasing her so they could sit on the couch, though she didn’t let go of Ava’s hand.
If her parents had gone home first, that meant her mom had driven by the Morrow house. Twice. Questions burned on the tip of Ava’s tongue, but she refused to ask them out loud.
Had she seen him? Did he look just like he had in the magazine? What was he wearing? Did he look like he was grieving?
Was he alone?
She’d noticed the lack of any mention of a girlfriend or wife in the magazine article, but that didn’t mean anything. If Jace and his manager thought being publicly tied to a woman romantically would cut down on his sex appeal with the fans, Ava had no doubt they’d hide her when the photographers came around. They’d already proven they’d cut anybody loose to further his career.
“Dad told me to tell you he’d get you and Whitney a nice hotel room in Branson for a few days if you want to get away. We can find people to cover for you both.”
Tears prickled in her eyes at the offer. It was generous financially, but also just really sweet of him. “Kiss him for me, but I’ve already decided I’m not running away.”
And now that he was here, she could think of nothing else but seeing him again. Jace was a ghost who needed to be exorcised from her life.
“Of course you’re not. But if you change your mind—if it’s too hard for you—the offer will stand.”
“It’s going to be hard, but maybe it’s time to get some closure.” The hurricane of emotions she’d felt since seeing his truck didn’t feel like closure, though.
“If you stay in town, you’ll have to pay your respects, of course.”
“Of course,” Ava repeated in a flat voice. Not only because not paying her respects to a life-long neighbor would be an almost unforgivable sin in this town, but because she wasn’t going to hide from Jace. If she didn’t show her face at his father’s service, everybody would know why and they’d spend days talking about it. Hell, they were going to talk about her and Jace anyway, but at least it wouldn’t be because she’d been unable to face him.
“I’m not going to run away,” she said again, meeting her mom’s gaze. She’d been off-kilter since Brian had passed away and brought the possibility of Jace’s return into her life, but she was strong enough to get through this. “He’s the one who runs, and he’s going to do it again as soon as he’s done his duty.”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Ava sighed, dropping her head back against the couch. “Knowing he’s back in town has brought up a bunch of stuff, you know? I mean, I knew I wasn’t over it completely. I should be, but... I’m not. Knowing I’m going to see him has made it so much worse, though.”
Her mom reached over to cover Ava’s hand with her own. “There’s no should be, honey. The heart doesn’t follow schedules or guidelines.”
“It was almost six years ago, Mom. Who stays angry that long over a breakup?”
“Maybe it’s not all anger. You’ve loved the boy since you were a teenager. That doesn’t always go away just because he hurt you.”
Hurt seemed like such a small word for what she’d felt after Jace left, but she didn’t want to sit and dissect emotions. Not now when hers felt so very raw. “It doesn’t matter. Hopefully he’ll go back to Nashville after the funeral and, once he does, he won’t have a reason to ever come back.”
* * *
“You’ll want to say a few words tomorrow, I’m sure?”
Jace stared at the man in the suit sitting across the massive wooden desk from him, not really seeing him. Somewhere in this building, Brian Morrow was waiting to be put in the ground, and any chance his son had of saying the words that had rattled around in his subconscious since he was a little boy was gone.
Why did you hate me? Why was I never good enough for you?
“Mr. Morrow?”
Jace forced himself to focus on the unpleasant matter at hand. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ll want to say a few words? The eulogy?”
“No.” When the funeral director blinked at his harsh tone, he blew out a breath and tried again. “I won’t be speaking at the funeral.”
That seemed to fluster him. “Okay. It’s just...it’s customary for the oldest son—or in your case, the only child—to give a eulogy, but it’s your choice, of course.”
“Look, Brian Morrow was a mean son of a bitch. The town will turn out for his funeral, no doubt. Some because it’s neighborly and they’ve got nothing better to do, and some out of curiosity about me. But you’ll be able to count the number of people who will be there out of any affection for my father on one hand, and I’m not one of them.”
The guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed and then he composed himself. “I completely understand. Would you like to approach one of those few people to say a few words? The other options are for me to invite people to go up and share an
y memories they’d care to, or I can keep it simple and do some readings myself.”
Jace didn’t want to get up and talk, but he also couldn’t bring himself to give short shrift to his father’s final farewell. Brian had a few friends he’d run with since they were kids and it might mean something to them to get the opportunity to say a few words. “You can go ahead and invite people up to speak.”
The details went on and on, until Jace found himself wishing he’d had somebody else handle everything. He’d already made most of the decisions that needed making by phone in order to keep from delaying the service for too long, but the funeral director seemed to think it was important they review everything he’d decided on. Jace could be in Nashville, working through his feelings in the studio, rather than pretending he cared about casket liners and then going back to the house to sort through decades’ worth of his father’s life.
But that would have been a shame he couldn’t bear. He didn’t really care what the town thought of his estrangement from Brian. He and his father knew why they didn’t speak. But a man not taking the time to lay his own father to rest wasn’t right, so here he was.
And then there was Ava. Paying somebody to see to these details on his behalf would have robbed him of the opportunity to see her again and he wanted to, no matter the circumstances. So he suffered through the final details and approvals until he was free to leave.
After shaking the man’s hand, he walked out into the chilly, late-afternoon day and pondered his next move. With the funeral arrangements finalized for tomorrow, the next thing on his list was the courthouse. The bank. A real estate agent. The list of errands was long, but the guy who handled his legal stuff had put as much of a dent in it from Nashville as he could, so it could have been worse.
By the time he was done with his errands, he was more than ready to head back to Cottonwood Creek. He jumped in his truck, but didn’t pull out of his parking space. He was hungry, but he wasn’t in the mood to pick up groceries and dig through his old man’s pots and pans, looking for something decent to cook with.
Hold Her Again Page 2