Catch a Fallen Star

by Amy Vastine

  “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

  If only Boone could gain everyone’s forgiveness that easily. Violet hadn’t experienced his failure to follow through on promises, though. She didn’t know that sometimes he said he wouldn’t do something and then did it anyway. The other people in his life knew better than to trust him.

  Ruby squeezed his good hand. “Everything is going to be okay. They’re going to pop that back in and give you something to take away the pain.”

  Boone closed his eyes. Her kindness was overwhelming, but she didn’t realize that medicine couldn’t take away the things that truly pained him.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME they made it back to the farm with Boone’s arm in a sling, it was late afternoon. No broken bones, but he had some nasty bruises. He had thought the dislocated shoulder hurt until the doctor had to pop it back in place. He now knew the meaning of the word excruciating.

  “That doctor had to be kidding me—twelve weeks until I can go back to normal?”

  Ruby came over to his side of the car to help him out. Boone shooed her away. He didn’t need to be babied. He was fine.

  “You should listen to the doctor. You don’t want to do anything that makes that thing pop back out.”

  That was for sure. No way Boone wanted to go through putting that sucker back in again. He’d be cautious for a little while. Probably not twelve weeks.

  “How are you going to play guitar with your arm in a sling?” Violet asked.

  “I’ll figure it out. I don’t need to wear it all the time. It definitely won’t interfere with my singing. Which I’m supposed to be doing right now. Thanks again for everything,” he said, looking directly at Ruby.

  “Glad you’re all right. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I’ve got your number.”

  Her smile almost kept him from wanting to do anything else but stare at her for the rest of the day. “Yes, you do. Use it if you need it. Inappropriate texts are still a no-no.”

  “You ruin all the fun,” he teased, returning that smile.

  “I’m standing right here,” Violet announced. “Can you two stop being so weird?”

  Ruby and Violet went home, and Boone headed straight for the studio. He expected Piper to be in there recording her vocals. What he wasn’t expecting was that someone else would be with her.

  Standing next to Piper, Sawyer was putting his heart and soul into Boone’s part. The part Boone had written. The part Boone had spent hours getting just right. He wasn’t just singing it—he was singing it brilliantly.

  Dean and Wyatt didn’t even notice Boone come in. They were grinning from ear to ear, watching the two of them sing Boone’s song.

  “What’s going on? A man can’t be a little late after getting thrown off a horse?”

  Dean turned and greeted Boone with arms wide-open. “Oh, man. Look at you. Is it broken?”

  “Why is he singing my song?”

  Dean glanced back at the two youngsters giving it everything they had. Their chemistry was off the charts. It made Boone furious, and the angrier he got, the more his shoulder throbbed.

  “Piper wanted to hear what it sounded like with someone singing your part,” Dean explained. “You weren’t here and Sawyer was hanging out, so we had him come in and mess around with it.”

  “This is my song.”

  “Yeah, of course it is.” Dean had on that fake smile that Boone wanted to punch off. If he had a right arm that could punch, he might have done it.

  “I’m here now.” Boone glared at Dean, who wasn’t getting the message. He shifted his focus to Sawyer, then back to Dean, waiting for him to put a stop to this.

  “Oh. Yeah. Wyatt, stop the music playback.”

  “Just let them finish,” Wyatt said. “I want to hear him sing the end again.”

  “How many times has he sung my song?” Boone could feel his blood pressure rising.

  “We’ll get you in there. Are you sure you’re up for it? Did they give you some pain medication?”

  Boone had refused anything stronger than the over-the-counter stuff. He had a fear of pain meds. Too many people got hooked on those, and one addiction was enough.

  “I’m fine,” he growled back. He wasn’t going to be fine for much longer if he had to continue listening to Sawyer sing his song. Thankfully it was almost over.

  They finished, and Piper smiled up at Sawyer like he had handed her a platinum record. Dean hit the intercom to let them know how amazing they were. Boone adjusted the strap of his sling and winced at the pain shooting down his arm.

  “Boone’s back!” Piper squealed, finally aware of someone other than the twentysomething song-stealer standing beside her. “Did you hear that? How amazing is this song?”

  Her enthusiasm was annoying. “I want to record my part in the booth alone,” Boone told Wyatt.

  “Okay. We tried her part solo, but it didn’t go as well, so I don’t have her track to play back for you.”

  “I don’t need it.”

  “Come on out, Piper,” Wyatt told her.

  Everyone had a million questions about Boone’s shoulder and accident. Questions he didn’t feel like answering right this minute. He wanted to record his song. He slipped into the booth and with some difficulty put on the headset with one hand.

  “Let’s work,” he said. His chest was tight and his shoulder ached. He did a couple of vocal warm-ups while Wyatt pulled up the music playback.

  The music started and Boone reminded himself to breathe. He sang the song, trying to push his anger aside and focus on what he was saying. Wyatt cut the playback.

  “Let’s try that again. You sound like you’re mad. I’m not sure that’s the emotion we’re going for here.”

  No, mad was not the emotion he was going for. It was the one he was feeling. He needed to calm down, needed to think about something other than how Sawyer had come in here and sung his song like he owned it, like it had been written for him. Boone took a deep breath.

  “Okay, from the top,” he said into the mic.

  Wyatt started the music. Boone tried again, and Wyatt let him get through the whole thing before offering his criticism.

  “It sounds like you’re shouting at her. Do you want to hear the track with Piper and Sawyer’s overdub?”

  “No, I don’t want to hear Sawyer’s overdub. I know how to sing the song, Wyatt. I wrote it, remember?”

  Wyatt threw his hands up, his eyes widening. Dean hit the intercom.

  “You’re wound up. Maybe we should do this tomorrow. You’ve been through a lot today.”

  “No! I want to do it today. Get everyone out of here.” He pointed at Sawyer and Piper. “I don’t need an audience.”

  Dean frowned but asked them to leave. He probably said a whole lot of other things, but Boone couldn’t hear him. He surely apologized for Boone’s bad behavior. Well, maybe they should have thought about how he’d feel when they tried to steal his song.

  With Piper and Sawyer gone, Boone went back to work. He ran through it ten more times. None of them were very satisfying.

  “Let’s call it a day. You’re getting tired and sloppy,” Wyatt said. “I can try to comp some of this together and see what we’ve got.”

  “No, I can get it. Let’s just do the second verse a few more times. I’ll get it.”

  Wyatt didn’t look too excited but knew better than to argue. He cued up the part Boone wanted and they tried again. Boone couldn’t get the words to come out the way he heard them in his head. It didn’t help that his memory of Sawyer’s version distracted him.

  Three more goes and Wyatt called it quits. He pointed out that Boone seemed completely drained and it wasn’t going to get better, only worse. Experience told Boone that Wyatt was right; pride made him want to
do it again.

  “I’ll have Piper come in and sing it on her own, and I’ll mix the two together. You can listen to it tomorrow,” Wyatt said.

  Reluctantly Boone pulled the headphones off and exited the booth. Dean had a sympathetic look on his face. It was worse than the fake smile.

  “Get some rest. If you need anything, let me know. That shoulder will be feeling better in the morning.”

  Boone said nothing. He wasn’t going to need anything. The damage had already been done. He couldn’t sing his own song because Dean had ruined it by letting someone else have it first.

  Back in the trailer, Boone tried lying down, but his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to get comfortable. His head ached right along with the rest of his body. He tried to get his mind off the song and his pain. It drifted back to his conversation with Jesse that morning.

  What other things could he do to get Emmy to forgive him? Was there really anything that could work? He picked up his phone and called her. He had no idea what he was going to say. If she didn’t answer, he wouldn’t even leave a message.

  “Emmy’s phone,” someone said after the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Who is this?” It was a boy. Why did a boy have Emmy’s phone?

  “This is Emmy Lou’s dad. Who the heck is this?”

  “Oh, sorry, Mr. Williams. Hang on.”

  Boone could hear the conversation going on the other side. The boy told Emmy her dad was on the phone, and she let him have it for answering. She told him to hang up and he refused. Maybe this boy wasn’t as bad as Boone thought. The boy begged Emmy to take the phone and just say hello. When she refused, he suggested she tell Boone she couldn’t talk right now. There was silence for a few seconds, and Boone worried Emmy was going to hang up.

  Then her voice came over the line. “Please stop calling me. I don’t want to know about how great your life is right now or how hard you’re working to be a good dad. A good dad doesn’t have to call his kid to find out what’s happening. He doesn’t have to ask how she’s doing because he already knows.”

  “Em—”

  “For the record, I’m great. I’m doing great without you. I’ve been doing great without you. I don’t need you. Leave. Me. Alone.”

  She hung up and Boone sat frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear. How could he have thought resetting his shoulder was the worst pain he could feel? Hearing Emmy’s plea was more excruciating than anything he’d ever experienced and ever would.

  Feeling was for the birds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “THERE’S LITERALLY NOTHING to eat in this house,” Violet complained. She shut the refrigerator and went to the pantry. “I’m starving.”

  Ruby hadn’t made it to the store. She hadn’t been able to do much since Violet had dropped the bomb about wanting to live with her dad. Even as the days passed, she felt immobilized by the idea that her daughter would rather live with the man who had done nothing for her in the three years since the divorce and very little in the ten years before that.

  “I need to go to Valu-Save.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll pick out what I want.”

  Ruby checked the clock. It was after six. Probably a decent time to go to the store. Surely all the good moms were home feeding their children wholesome meals complete with something from all five food groups. Plus, it was a Sunday night. They’d be able to get in and out relatively quickly.

  Ruby grabbed her keys and suggested Violet bring a sweatshirt. That seemed like something a good mom would say. Violet rolled her eyes and headed out the door sans sweatshirt.

  At the store, Violet didn’t want to push the cart. She was too old for that. Too old to ride in the cart, too old to push it, too old to be tucked in at night, too old to give her mom a hug or kiss in public, too old to care that she was breaking her mom’s heart by asking to leave.

  Ruby roamed the aisles without much of a plan. They needed the basics—bread, milk, eggs.

  “I’m going to go grab some of those snack cakes I like. I’ll be right back,” Violet said as Ruby compared the yogurt prices. Why were there so many choices, and why were some so much more expensive? Was there really such a thing as gourmet yogurt?

  No yogurt. Violet didn’t eat it, anyway. Ruby always ended up eating two cups a day to use it all before it went bad. She pushed ahead, skipping the baking aisle. Everyone knew Ruby didn’t bake except when desperate to get Violet’s attention.

  She turned down the next aisle and spotted Boone immediately. His arm was still in its sling and a grocery basket filled with bottles was at his feet. He was taking another bottle of wine off the shelf.

  Something came over her, and she barreled down the aisle and hit his basket with her cart, ramming them both into him. Not the smartest thing to do with glass bottles around, but she would happily smash every bottle in the store if it meant Boone couldn’t drink from any of them.

  “Ow! What the—” His anger was quickly extinguished when he realized who he was talking to. His expression went from enraged to ashamed in a flash.

  “Walk with me.” She wasn’t asking, and he knew it.

  He left the basket where it was but didn’t put down the wine in his hand. They walked out of the aisle and back to baking. Violet chose that moment to reappear. Ruby took the bottle from him and set it in her cart.

  “Hey, old man. Come to buy some dinner like us?” She dumped an armload of junk food into their cart.

  “Something like that,” he mumbled. He didn’t sound at all like himself.

  “How’s the arm? You don’t look so good.” Genuine concern was etched across Violet’s face.

  Boone was so out of it, he looked down at his sling like it was the first time he’d seen it. “Um, it hurts.”

  Violet didn’t seem to notice anything was off. Ruby was grateful for that but worried sick. Obviously he was in physical pain, but something major must have happened to push Boone to take two falls today, one off a horse and one off the wagon.

  “How are you going to carry your groceries with one arm?” Violet asked. “Do you want me to get you one of those little baskets or a cart?”

  Boone glanced over at Ruby. His shame weighed him down like a suit of armor.

  “That’s nice of you, Vi. Go grab him one of those baskets. We’ll help him do some shopping.” There was no way Ruby was letting him finish this trip alone or with anything alcoholic.

  When Violet was out of earshot, Ruby turned to Boone. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Boone didn’t answer.

  “Come over for dinner. I don’t think you should be by yourself.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t care about me, Ruby.”

  “Too late. We can call Jesse from my house. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it without any booze. I’m here for you.”

  She put a hand on his good shoulder. He looked away and swallowed hard. His jaw was tight, and he pressed his fingers to his closed eyes. Ruby hadn’t meant to make him cry in the middle of Valu-Save.

  Wrapping her arm around him, she tucked herself under his arm and against his chest. He let his arm fall around her and kissed the top of her head.

  “Thank you,” he choked out.

  Ruby gave him a gentle squeeze. His pain broke her heart, even if she didn’t know where it was coming from. She let him go before Violet came back and got the wrong idea.

  Boone sniffed loudly and wiped his face, pulling himself somewhat together. Violet returned with a basket. She had put a bottle of pain reliever in it.

  “I’ll carry your basket. You tell me what to put in it,” she said. Her willingness to help put a lump in Ruby’s throat. She was such a good kid underneath all her teenagerness.

  “He doesn’t need much. He’s coming over
for dinner,” Ruby said, knowing he wouldn’t decline if Violet was expecting him.

  The three of them finished shopping and went to check out. Ruby had forgotten about the wine until they were unloading the cart at the cash register. Boone stared at it with a mixture of desire and regret. Ruby handed it to the cashier.

  “We don’t need this.” And what Boone needed and didn’t need was much more important than what he wanted right now.

  * * *

  RUBY SUGGESTED VIOLET ride with Boone. It was her guarantee that he’d come straight over without any stops at any other stores.

  When they got home, Violet helped carry in all the groceries until she got a phone call from a friend. Upstairs she went, leaving Boone and Ruby alone.

  “Should we call Jesse now or eat dinner first?” Ruby had no idea what she was doing. She could handle delivering a breach baby or consoling the parents of a stillborn, but talking an alcoholic off the ledge was unfamiliar territory.

  Boone sat at the kitchen table. He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I don’t know. I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “No, you shouldn’t be alone. You shouldn’t be standing in the grocery store with a basket full of enough alcohol to kill yourself.”

  He groaned and let his head fall back. “Had the liquor stores been open today, I might have been able to buy a lethal dose. A couple of bottles of wine wouldn’t have done me in.”

  “Boone, what happened?”

  “Let’s eat first. We’ll call Jesse later.”

  “Do you want to talk about it with me?” she offered as she unpacked the groceries. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to say yes or no.

  “I can’t go there right now,” he admitted. “Tell me about you. Have you two worked out your differences yet? I got the feeling that you were a little frustrated with her today.”

  “I’m not sure that hearing about me and Violet is going to cheer you up any.”

  “Why not?”

  Ruby opened the pantry, grateful he couldn’t see her face. She was sure it showed her misery. “Violet wants to live with her dad.”