Scarlett blows out a hard breath. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I can’t live like this. I love you more than I will ever love another woman besides Chloe, but I want more out of this. I want more for my life. I want more for us. I want to make a family with you and protect you and love you. I want you all of my days, Scarlett, not just some of them.”
“I can’t do this with you right now, Tucker. Not like this, not over the phone.”
“Then, when? When can I see you face-to-face so that we can talk about this?”
“I don’t know,” she yells. “Look, I’ve got to go before I say something I’ll regret. Goodnight, Tucker.”
“Goodbye, Scarlett.”
20
~Scarlett~
Goodbye, Scarlett.
Two words, repeating in my head over and over again. For a week now. He didn’t say goodnight.
He said goodbye.
And I haven’t talked to him since.
We haven’t made up, we haven’t said, “we’re just frustrated, but it’s going to be okay.”
Nada.
Instead, I’ve spent the past week finishing up the tour and the media circus that surrounds it. I’ve done countless interviews and have been on television. I’ve crammed it all into a week so I can take the time I need now to figure out my shitshow of a life.
I landed in Charleston this morning, and I’m driving to New Hope. I gave my dad a heads-up because I’ll be staying with him. I don’t think I’m welcome at Tucker’s right now.
I’m not even sure that Tucker and I are still a thing.
It doesn’t feel like it.
It’s mid-afternoon when I pull into town, and I immediately feel a sense of deja vu. Has it really been less than two months since the day that Tucker pulled me over on my way into town for the first time? So much has changed since then.
I hadn’t been here in a dozen years, and now I can’t imagine spending more than a few weeks away.
There’s no sign of Tucker as I drive through town and to my dad’s place. Tucker shouldn’t be home from work yet, which is perfect for me. I’m not ready to see him. And still, I want to see him so badly that it hurts.
Life is complicated.
I glance at Lexi’s car parked at the curb and square my shoulders.
This will either be fine or a nightmare.
With my suitcase in tow, I climb the steps to the front door and knock. Dad pulls open the door then me into his arms, giving me a big hug. I’m not ashamed to admit that it makes me want to sob like a baby. There’s nothing as good as my dad soothing away something that hurts.
“Hi,” I say into his chest and then sniffle loudly.
“Hi, sugar,” he says and kisses my head. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.”
“Okay.”
I stop when I see Lexi sitting on the couch, watching me with pursed lips.
“You know what, Lexi? I don’t have it in me to listen to your nastiness today. So, if you want to lecture me for fucking up a good thing or abandoning everyone or how I’m just generally the spawn of Satan himself, just save it, okay?”
“I’m not Satan,” Dad says from the kitchen, making me grin.
“I wasn’t going to say any of those things,” my sister says, shaking her head. “I was just going to ask how you’re doing. Because you look like shit.”
“That’s appropriate.” I sigh and drop into the chair opposite her. “Because I feel like shit.”
“I think you need to talk it out,” Dad says as he walks in with a steaming mug of tea. He sets it on the table near my elbow and sits in his favorite chair next to mine. “What’s going on? Tucker hasn’t said much. He just scowls whenever we mention your name.”
“Great.” I sigh and rub my hands over my forehead. “That’s just great. Well, you know I had to miss Chloe’s birthday.”
“Which was fabulous, by the way,” Dad says. “You did a wonderful job planning that party.”
“It was the talk of the town,” Lexi adds. “I’ll let you plan the kids’ next birthdays.”
I look up in surprise. “You’d let me do that?”
“Of course.” She frowns. “I mean, if you want to.”
“I would like that,” I whisper, embarrassed to be getting emotional. “I was so sorry that I had to miss it. I wanted to come home for it more than anything. But things were crazy, and the show got scheduled without me knowing about it. I fired Susan, by the way.”
Dad’s eyebrows climb in surprise. “She’s been your manager since the Small Town Girl album.”
“And now, she’s not,” I say with a shrug. “She effed up, and there’s no recovering from it for me. I can’t trust her.”
“Then you did the right thing,” Lexi says, surprising me again. Is this my sister? The one who can’t stand me?
“Thanks. Well, I didn’t have time to text or call at all that day, and it pissed Tucker off something fierce. By the time I was able to talk to him late that night, he basically told me he wants way more from me than being an afterthought. That he needs to come before my career, or else he’s out.”
“He said that?” Dad asks.
“That’s the CliffsNotes version. And I haven’t talked to him since then. I’ve texted a couple of times, but he replied with just one word, and that made me feel worse than not hearing anything from him at all, so I stopped. I don’t know what he wants from me.”
“More,” Dad says simply. “Sounds to me like he wants you, not all the pomp and circumstance that comes with you.”
“I’m a package deal, just like he and Chloe are a package deal. I love her. I would never ask him to choose me over her.”
“A career and a child are hardly the same things.” They’re Lexi’s words, but her tone is soft, not accusing or mocking. She’s just participating in the conversation. This is the sister I need in my life.
“I understand that,” I say. “I do. It’s just… I’ve worked my ass off to be where I am with this job. Why should I be the one to give everything up?”
“He’s worked hard, too,” Dad reminds me. “For his job and raising his daughter by himself. You’re not the only one who works hard. He’s sacrificed a lot for that little girl.”
“I’m not saying I’m the only one who works hard.” I shake my head again, feeling misunderstood. “I’m just saying that it seems that we should both compromise, not just me. And you don’t have to talk to me about sacrifice, Dad. I’m intimate with it. Hell, I feel like I invented it. I’ve missed so much of my family’s lives because of my career. I don’t have a relationship with my sister,”—I point to Lexi, whose eyes fill with tears—“because of my career. So, we can all agree that sacrifice is just a part of life, and compromise is a given when it comes to working through issues with someone you love.”
“I agree with you there,” Lexi says. “I mean, relationships are all about compromise, and maybe that’s something I haven’t been very good at when it comes to our relationship. We’ll come back to that later. But I have no suggestions for you with Tucker because your career is in Nashville, and his is here. His daughter’s community is here. Everything they know and love, aside from you, is here.”
“It’s impossible.” I look at both of them, waiting for them to disagree, but they don’t. “There’s no way to make this work. It’s just…done.”
I hear Tucker’s door slam next door, and I stand. “Might as well get this over with.”
“Maybe you should take some time to calm down,” Dad suggests, but I shake my head.
“It’s like yanking off a Band-Aid.” I push out of the front door, then march down the steps and over to Tucker’s house. I knock on the door. Tucker’s eyes light up when he sees me on the other side, and, God, I want to launch myself into his arms. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, beg for his forgiveness, and rip off his clothes.
But what’s the point?
&nb
sp; We can’t make this work.
“Hey, Scar. I wasn’t expecting you.” He steps back, letting me inside. “Chloe’s at Jenny’s.”
He blinks like he doesn’t know why he said that, but I’m glad he did because I’d rather not do this in front of a twelve-year-old.
“That’s okay,” I reply stiffly and stand inside the door. “I won’t keep you long.”
“What are you talking about? When did you get to town?”
“Just about an hour ago.” Hurt flashes through his eyes, and I hate myself even more. “I wasn’t sure that you’d want to see me.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ll always—”
“Just listen, okay? You did a lot of talking last week, now it’s my turn.”
“Okay.” He crosses his arms over his chest and watches me with an impassive face. “Go ahead.”
“You were right,” I begin, hating every damn word coming from my mouth. “This isn’t going to work.”
I don’t know how to make it work.
“I mean, we’re great together. I love you so much. And Chloe, too. But I also love my career. I don’t want to give it up, and you don’t want to bend either, to work it out. You want so many wonderful things, and I just don’t see how I can give them to you. I promised you that I’d be here last weekend, and I couldn’t make that happen. I felt like shit. I still do. It wrecked me. And it hurt both you and Chloe. You’re right, it might happen again, probably more than once. Because my life is crazy. I don’t live in a sleepy little town where everyone knows everyone, and you fall in love and get married and have a quiet life. That’s just not me.”
I hold my hands out at my sides as if to say, “what can I do?”
Tucker takes a hesitant step forward, panic and desperation flashing in his eyes.
“But that is you, Tuck. That’s so you. You deserve all of the Sunday dinners and evenings on the porch swing. Babies and dogs and a life that fulfills you.”
Tucker’s eyes grow suspiciously glossy, and I’m tempted to throw myself into his arms and tell him that everything I just said was a lie. But that would only hurt us more in the long run. And I don’t want to hurt Tucker any more than I already have.
I have to swallow hard over the words I’m about to say next because, God, I don’t want to say them. It’s just about killing me.
“Someone can give you that,” I whisper, my throat hoarse. “But she’s not me. And we both know it.”
“So, you’re just going to walk away? Throw in the towel?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I watch him for a long moment, wanting to reach out for him, but that would be cruel to both of us. So, I turn to go. But before I can even reach for the door, I’m spun around and pinned to it, and Tucker has my jawline in his hands and is kissing me for all he’s worth, pressing that hard body of his against mine, making me come alive from head to toe in the way only he can.
When neither of us can breathe anymore, he pulls away and watches me with hot eyes, panting.
“Don’t leave, not like this.”
“It’s too late, Tucker, I’m already gone.”
I cover my lips with my fingertips. And, without another word, I walk through the door.
It’s been three days since I walked away from Tucker. Three days of confusion, tears, and anger. Three days of wishing I could have a do-over and wondering what the heck I would say if that wish came true. Three days of trying to figure out how to move on with my life when all I want is to be with Tucker: in his home, in his life, in his arms.
I’m sitting in the kitchen with my guitar in my lap, strumming through the fourth song I’ve written since I walked away from him. Apparently, what I said to Chase weeks ago is true. I may not end up with Tucker, but I might get a hit single—or four—out of our breakup.
Sure, every song is sappy and describes in one way or another how much I miss him. And love him, and hate him, and miss him. Did I mention that I miss him?
More than once, I’ve found myself picking up the phone to call him and Chloe, only to remember that I no longer have that privilege. And rather than find a way to fix our mess, I simply gave up. But as the minutes turned into hours, and the scribbled words on paper turned into songs, I started to formulate a plan.
“Goddamn water heater,” Dad grumbles as he walks into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting my guitar to the side.
“The pilot light keeps going out,” he says. “The damn thing is fifteen years old. I should replace it.”
“Why didn’t we replace it when you had all the work done five years ago?”
“It wasn’t fifteen years old then,” he says calmly. “And at the end of the day, this place is getting older. Things are going wrong, one by one. The roof will need to be re-shingled this fall.”
“Why didn’t I know any of this?”
He glances at me, and I know why.
Because I’m never here.
“You need a new house,” I say, getting Dad’s attention. “And, no, I’m not suggesting you move away from New Hope. We just need to get you a new house here.”
“Or we can buy a new hot water heater and fix the roof.”
“That’s not fun.” I stand, propping my hands on my hips. “And I have an idea. It sort of came to me when I was writing this morning.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Well, Dad, remember when you said being an overachiever runs in the family?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve been thinking about Tucker a lot, and about what you and Lexi said.”
Dad turns fully toward me. “Glad to hear it, but what does that have to do with being an overachiever?”
“I don’t like the idea of giving up on Tucker. I love him, Daddy.” Dad grins as if he knew this would be where this would go all along, and I’m just now catching up. “I’m not a quitter. When I know what I want, I chase after it, even when it’s hard. And I want Tucker so much I ache with it.”
These last few days without him have made that realization increasingly clear. I thought I could walk away from him and what we have, but I can’t. I don’t want to.
What I want is Tucker.
My heart rate kicks up at the thought of getting him back.
“So, what’s your plan, sugar?”
“I’m making it up as I go, but I love New Hope, not just Tucker. This is home for me. It took coming back to realize that, but I get it now. I’ll have to go to Nashville from time to time, and there will still be tours and such, but I think I can work it out where I’ll spend a good deal of the year here.”
Dad’s eyes light up with hope.
“I’d like to buy some property, and build two, maybe three houses on it. One for Tucker, Chloe, and me, one for you, and if she wants it, one for Lexi and the family.”
“It’ll have to be a big piece of property,” Dad says, rubbing his chin. “Because that’s a lot of people living in one place.”
“If I bought like five hundred acres, there would be plenty of room.”
He raises a brow. “Can you afford something like that?”
I smile and wrap my arms around my father. “Daddy, I have more than enough money for this.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand what this has to do with being an overachiever.”
“I’m going to win Tucker back. I’m going to prove to him that I’m serious about us. That this isn’t just another empty promise with no results. If I buy property, build homes, set down roots in New Hope, maybe I’ll convince him that we can both bend to make this work. I’ll only schedule tours in the summer when we can travel as a family, and try to be here for the rest of the time. I don’t have the particulars figured out, obviously, but it’s way better than where I was three days ago.”
“Why don’t you just walk your ass over to his house and tell him you want him back and get on with your lives?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’ve failed him, more than once. My word means nothing
to him right now. So, I’m going to show him.”
“Building a house is a long process. What if during that time, he meets someone else and moves on?” Dad suggests.
My heart stops. I never considered that. “Do you really think that could happen?”
Dad scoffs. “No. That boy is crazy about you.”
“Geez, Dad, you about gave me a heart attack. You can’t say things like that to me.”
“Love is wasted on the young,” Dad says, shaking his head.
“Is that a yes? Do you like my plan?”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll just talk you into it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“This is the property.”
After I made my mind up yesterday, I got to work hiring a real estate agent, and I called Lexi and Jason over for a family meeting. It was an evening of laughter and plans, and for the first time that I could remember, it felt like we were a real family.
“Are you sure?” Dad asks as we stare out over the fields. “The view sure is pretty.”
“There’s a river about a quarter of a mile that way,” Chuck, the real estate agent I hired, says. “And a small lake over to the right. They have a tendency to be swampy now, but you can have it all cleaned out, get rid of the gators and such, and it would be quite lovely.”
“We can’t have gators,” I agree, shaking my head. “But a lovely lake would be great. I’m adding a pool area to my house that everyone can use whenever they like.”
“The kids will love that,” Dad says with a smile. “And I might take a dip or two myself.”
“This is it,” I say again. “How much does Mr. Truman want again?”
Chuck rattles off a number that has Dad’s eyes widening, but I just shake my head. “Take a hundred K off that and make the offer. He’s priced it way too high. I’ll pay cash.”
“I’ll write up the offer today, and keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“My pleasure.”
“We’ll stay for just a few moments, if you don’t mind.”
“Help yourselves,” Chuck says with a smile. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
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