by Magan Vernon
Gramps didn’t even look up from his piece as he shook his head. “Nope. Then I get shavings all over my porch.”
Gramps had a smaller house on the property that he and Gram built when Mom and Dad got married and took over the ranch. When Gram died, not long after I was born, Gramps stayed in the house but spent more time at our house than he ever did at his.
“Makes sense.” I nodded, looking over the railing at the miles of field. There were a few longhorns grazing close to the barn, but most stayed inside when it got a little colder.
“Why ain’t you out with that Carrington girl? Figure you’d slum it with your gramps for a while, or did she finally come to her senses and leave you for a real cowboy?”
I shook my head. “I’m just getting packed up. Heading out on another tour, so it’s better to leave things in the past. You know, put the old cattle out to pasture and all that.” I didn’t even know what the hell I was saying, but it sounded good in my head.
I always watched what I said around Gramps. He was an old-school rancher who believed men did men’s work with their hands. He never fully understood my desire to play music and constantly gave me shit about it. He’d never seen one of my shows, and I doubted he ever would.
Gramps set his knife down on the table and rubbed a few chips out of the wood. “You know, sometimes I look at these old pieces of wood and wonder why in the hell I picked that piece. I ain’t gonna be able to turn that into nothing. Then I whittle it a little and get a feel of it. I get to know all of the little grooves and nuances. And it becomes part of something. A something I can’t just leave behind for another project.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about that piece of wood in your hand that looks like you’re carving a dead squirrel?”
Gramps spit off the side of the porch then turned to fully face me. Gramps had always looked the same to me with his white handlebar mustache and full head of gray hair that he parted to the side. But now, it seemed he’d aged even more these last ten years with more wrinkles on his forehead and at the creases of his eyes. “Eddie, you and I both know that I ain’t talking about the wood.”
I sighed. “Gramps, I really don’t want to have whatever conversation you’re thinking of having. Can’t I just sit and watch you whittle for a while before I pack?”
Gramps pointed his ring finger at me, the one with his giant Texas Exes ring prominently displayed. “You know what I’m talking about, young man, and you know someone needs to have this conversation with you before you fuck up and break everyone’s heart again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gramps.”
“Son, you’ve been in love with Brooke Carrington since the first time you laid eyes on her. Everybody knows that. When you left this town in a blaze, you didn’t come back because of your fame, or whatever you want to use as an excuse. You didn’t come back because you were afraid to see her again. Then you finally came back after that whore you were never supposed to be with, left ya. Now, you got the chance to right your wrongs, and instead of doing that with her, you’re gonna run. You’re gonna leave your problems and leave your Mama and Daddy with them.”
I licked my lips, shaking my head. “It’s not like that, Gramps.”
Gramps leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he rocked slowly. “Then tell me. What is it like? I’m all ears.”
I leaned back in my own chair, staring at the field. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it ain’t, Eddie. You and I both know that. Hell, when I was courting your gram, she would give me so much shit for spending all that time working on my daddy’s farm. All I wanted was to build up the ranch, get some money in my pocket, and impress her.”
Gramps stopped my chair with a rough hand, and I looked up at his serious face. “Eddie, your gram finally sat down and told me she didn’t need the ranch. She didn’t need all of that. She just wanted my time. Now that she’s been gone almost thirty years, I wish every day that I would have given her more of my time. Don’t make my mistakes, Eddie. Give her your time. That’s all she wants.”
I thought of saying so many things back to him; instead, I just nodded. Then he picked up his knife and wood piece and went back to whittling.
We stayed like that for a few more minutes, or maybe hours. Doing nothing but sitting in silence. I hadn’t done that in years, and it was one of the many things I knew I’d miss when I was gone.
I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, Mom and I would be on a plane to Nashville to start my new journey. We’d meet with producers and an agent, and hopefully, they wouldn’t think they made a mistake in picking a kid from Friendship, Texas.
My phone buzzed from the nightstand. Mom recently added texting on our plan, so she could message me when I was in the studio.
I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, reading the message.
Brooke Carrington: Are you sleeping?
I smiled to myself, typing back: What if I was?
Brooke Carrington: Then you’d be one hell of a sleep typer.
I started to type out a long reply, and my fingers kept slipping, messing up the different letters. Finally, I decided to give up and pressed the call button.
“You’re lucky I had my phone on silent, so my parents couldn’t hear you calling this late,” Brooke whispered.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
She sighed. “It’s okay. I’m glad you called. That texting thing is kind of a pain.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’m not sure I like it, but it’ll be good to message you while you’re in class and I’m in the studio or something.”
She breathed into the phone. “Hopefully, you won’t be too busy to text.”
I shook my head even though I knew she couldn’t see it. “I’d never be too busy to talk to you, Brooke. You’re my best friend. Even though even saying it out loud sounds kind of cheesy, you are.”
I wanted us to be more. I thought so many times about kissing her and telling her how I really felt. But now that I was leaving, I couldn’t do that to her. She deserved to find someone else. She was going to go off to Baylor and meet a guy who loved going to the movies like she did and would eat her mom’s awful cobbler. I was afraid I could never be that guy for her.
“Well, I hope you remember you said that when you’re off getting Grammys and dating supermodels.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. No supermodel or Grammy could ever make me forget the girl next door.”
Chapter 22
My condo in LA felt even more empty than the house in Nashville.
I bought the place a year ago when I thought I would settle down with Mary here. But even as I thought about that idea in my head, this was just another failure in my long line of mistakes with women.
She wanted a family and a place with a big yard and a white picket fence, so I gave her a two-bedroom lofted condo near USC.
Slumping onto the cold leather couch, I peered out the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the view of the LA skyline and the Hollywood Hills. It made my heart ache to think about the fields of Friendship, Texas.
I’d arranged for a dozen yellow roses to be delivered to Brooke’s house every day while I was gone. A note on each arrangement had a different set of lyrics from one of my songs. It was cheesy and just another way to throw my money around, but I had to let her know I was thinking of her—something I should have done ten years ago instead of sticking my head in my ass.
Promo shoots for the upcoming tour filled the next few weeks before we headed out at the beginning of March. I wouldn’t get the time to call Brooke. Or at least that was what I told myself—that was what I’d been telling myself for so many years.
Now, I was realizing how much downtime I really had as I stared at the sun setting over the Hollywood Hills.
It was Valentine’s Day weekend, and every show on TV was some romantic comedy. I could have gone to one of my producer’s wedding, but it was being filmed for a reality TV show,
and I didn’t want to deal with that right now.
I’d craved the limelight all of my life, and now I realized how much it was slowly killing my time. The time I could have spent with the woman I loved. God, I was turning into the cliché of every one of my songs as I sat with my guitar and a week of scruff, drinking straight out of the bottle of whiskey and strumming along until I fell asleep.
My life had become stagnant. Maybe it was always this way, and I just never noticed because all I ever focused on was how to get ahead in the music industry. Now that I’d been from rock bottom to the top of the world, I didn’t know where to go.
When my phone buzzed, and it wasn’t Pam or Stan, I actually jumped off the couch from excitement then sat back down, thinking I definitely needed to find another hobby or something.
It was a Dallas, Texas number that I didn’t recognize but prayed maybe Brooke got a new number or was using Clay’s phone.
“Hello,” I said, trying to keep my breathing steady but felt my shoulders shaking.
“Hey, Eddie. What’s up?”
I didn’t recognize the male voice on the other end, hoping another random fan didn’t get my phone number, and I’d have to change my number again.
“Uh, not much, man, what’s up with you?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair, which was starting to curl near my ears and desperately needed a trim.
“Not much. I mean, well, are you at your place in LA? Maybe have time to meet up?” the guy asked.
“I don’t know how to ask this without sounding like a dick, but I have absolutely no idea who I’m talking to,” I said, finally giving in.
The guy on the other end laughed. “Ah, sorry about that. I got another new phone after dropping mine in the pool … again. It’s Jay. Jay Morningstar.”
I laughed, sighing with relief. “I should have known.”
I thought Jay was still training in Friendship then remembered his sister’s wedding that, of course, I didn’t go to. Shit, I wondered if he had Lia with him, and now I was going to get an earful about how I was the asshole of Friendship, Texas.
“So ya busy?” Jay asked.
“Um …” I ran my hands through my hair, looking around the loft as if it would give me some sort of excuse, but I didn’t have one. Even if I’d get a verbal beating, I probably deserved it.
“No. Want to meet up for a drink?” I asked, looking at my empty bottle.
“Uh, you’re talking to the guy with the very public DUI arrest,” Jay replied.
“Oh, right, yeah, shit sorry, I forgot. Coffee? I think there is a place down the street from me.” I had to rack my brain to think of the place.
“The diner? Yeah. I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Jay replied.
“All right. See you there.”
***
Thirty minutes later, I sat across from Jay in the red plastic booth. Some of the more popular places would usually be crawling with paparazzi, but at ten o’clock on a weeknight, most celebs were at clubs, on set, or in bed … not always alone.
“So slumming it back in LA?” I asked, taking a sip of my bitter coffee.
“Yeah. I have an event in Charlotte this week but needed some time in the hills before heading out there,” Jay said, poking at his plate of waffles. Whenever I saw Jay, he was swimming, listening to music, or eating an insane amount of carbs.
“Oh.” It was all I could manage to say. Besides shaving his head for the meet, there was also another big thing he was missing—his girlfriend, Lia, by his side. I didn’t want to address that elephant or else I’d have to talk about why Brooke wasn’t with me.
“Saw on TNC that you’re heading out on tour. Congrats, man,” Jay said, nodding his head and poking at his food.
“You seem really enthused by that,” I said with a laugh.
Jay finally looked up, pushing the plate away. “Yeah, sorry, that was a dick move. It is great that you’re going back on tour. Maybe I’ll have to catch a show when you’re in Dallas or something.”
“Staying in Friendship?” I asked.
Jay blew out a breath of air and put his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. “Fuck. I don’t know. I want to. I like it there. Okay, mainly I like being with Lia, but I fucked up, again.”
I raised an eyebrow, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “Did you do something to piss off her brothers?”
Jay looked back at me. “Obviously, you’ve done a better job than I have at staying off TNC.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I try and stay away from most of that shit.”
Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, in short, I was an ass at my sister’s wedding and so was my drunk ex-girlfriend who decided to be a bitch to Lia then Lia punched her. Instead of being a decent guy and going back with her to the hotel or not ignoring my girlfriend all day, I just let her go. I thought we’d made up until TNC got a hold of the story and then ran with something about my ex and me. Fucking people and their rumors.”
“Yeah, social media is worse than the local church ladies,” I muttered, sipping my coffee.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Jay said, scooping a mouthful of carbs.
“So what are you going to do to make it up to her?” I asked, curious if he had anything that would help my own situation.
Jay swallowed hard then put his fork down. “Well, I figured I’d go all in. I’ve spent the day with a realtor looking at condos around the area. Lia is going to USC next fall, and by that time, Coach will be back here to train. I figured I’d show her that I want to stay close to her, even if she wants to have her own college life in a dorm or whatever. It may be stupid and over the top, but I figured I have to do something instead of just treading water. Go for the gold or go home, right?” Jay laughed.
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty bold move. Think it’ll work?”
Jay shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try, can it? Know any condos near here that would sell to a swimmer with a criminal record but a ton of gold medals?”
I smiled, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my house keys. “How much would you offer me for my loft?”
Jay stared at the keys then looked to me. “You’re shitting me.”
I shook my head. “Make me an offer. No point in holding on to the place. I’m thinking maybe a different real estate investment might not be a bad idea.”
Jay grinned, grabbing my keys. “Well, first you gotta show me the place. I may have been labeled the dumbest man alive by TNC, but I know you can’t just buy a home without seeing it.”
I put down some cash on the table for the server. “All right. Let’s take a tour.”
***
Within about ten minutes, I was making a late-night phone call to my entertainment lawyer about selling the condo. While he was writing that up, I thought about another offer and how a three-dollar cupcake or flowers wasn’t going to cut it to get Brooke back. For that matter, it wasn’t going to cut it for my own happiness.
Sometime in the early morning hours, I’d sent another email off to a realtor and my lawyer. I was ready to just about to head off to bed when a new piece of mail popped up in my inbox.
The only mail I ever got on that account was business stuff, but this was from an [email protected]. Brooke’s pen name.
Now wide-awake, I opened the email and read the little snippet.
Hey.
Your mom gave me this email address. I haven’t listened to any of your messages, and all the flowers in the house were starting to make it smell like a funeral parlor. I didn’t know what to say. I’m not as good as voicing my words as you are, so I wrote them down. This is rough and still needs to go to my editor, but I thought you’d want to see this draft.
-Brooke
I opened the attached file titled “Rumor Has It” and read the first words on the screen.
Justin Edwards was the headline of every raunchy tabloid rumor, but to me, he was just the boy from a small Southern town who I’d been in love with a
s long as I could remember.
Once I started Brooke’s story, I couldn’t stop. This wasn’t the same erotic blend she usually wrote, and it tore right to my heartstrings. There were memories and things straight out of our past that she’d tweaked to move the story along, but the message was there.
“Rumor has it that Justin Edwards is back in Nashville, but where’s the supposed love of his life?” Clarissa read off her computer screen, asking herself the same question.
I wanted to finish the book, but another email had popped up. This one was from the realtor and lawyer. I didn’t need to continue reading Brooke’s fictional account. This time, I was going to try to give us a real happily ever after.
Chapter 23
I touched back down in Friendship Wednesday evening, sometime after meeting with my lawyer in Nashville, which was really all just a blur.
Dad was waiting for me with his pickup idling in the small parking lot of the private airspace.
“Thanks for getting me,” I said, getting in the passenger seat.
“No problem at all, son. I was a little surprised when you called, but you know it’s always good to have you back.” Dad pulled out of the parking lot and toward Highway 78.
“So your mother told me about the tour,” Dad said after what felt like we were sitting in silence for forever.
“Yeah. It’s going to be a whirlwind, but once it’s over, I plan to be back here a lot more often,” I replied, raking my fingers through my hair and watching the landscape change from the city of Rockwall to the fields that bordered Lavon.
“I hope you are. Your mom and I liked having you around, even though the situation wasn’t the greatest. It had, well, it had been a long time since you came around,” Dad said, keeping his eyes on the road.
