by Terri Osburn
Naomi switched off the radio as her heart fell to her knees. That song had been for her, not everyone else. Though she’d bolted from her seat halfway through the first verse, she hadn’t been able to leave before hearing the rest of the song. Hovering at the back of the room, she’d listened to every heartfelt word. The regret and acceptance. The humility and remorse.
But no plea for forgiveness. Chance had known better than to ask for such a thing. He’d apologized for no reason other than she deserved to hear him say the words. Because telling her he was sorry mattered more than his own pride or ego.
The realization brought tears as she passed the exit for the hospital where she’d taken him the night of the accident. The night he’d opened himself up and let her in. The night that had changed everything.
Yes, he’d doubted her. But he’d loved others before and they’d let him down. Trusted and been betrayed in the most violent of ways. Why wouldn’t he expect the same from Naomi?
They hadn’t talked about trust since the night she’d moved into his house. Chance had been honest about his issues. Refused to offer empty promises. The troubled man with the fragile heart had, in not so many words, asked for patience and understanding. And he’d been patient with her in return.
Naomi had found forgiveness for her mother once she’d learned the intentions behind the frustrating behavior. Making a right onto the narrow gravel lane she’d first traveled in a long black limousine, she decided to extend the same consideration to Chance.
Chapter 30
He’d done all he could do.
Chance had learned from Dylan’s wife, Charley, that Naomi cut out once the song had started. At least she’d listened up to that point and knew that he was sorry for what he’d done.
“Up here on the right,” he said to the driver as they approached his mailbox. Dylan and Charley had been kind enough to offer Chance a ride home, but things had been awkward enough in the dressing room. A thirty-minute drive in silence would have made the situation worse.
Instead, he’d used the app Shelly had added to his phone to order a car, which had arrived within minutes, driven by an older gentleman with graying hair and thick glasses, just as the app had promised. If the man had recognized Chance, he didn’t show it.
Halfway down the drive, Chance’s phone went off with a text from Shelly, asking how the night had gone. Chance dismissed the urge to ignore her and sent a reply.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Discussing the finality of the evening could wait. Though he’d reminded himself many times that this had not been about getting Naomi back, the hope had still lingered in the far recesses of his mind. Or maybe the dark, empty corners of his heart. The only victory of the evening was a noticeable lack of a more familiar type of longing.
Chance felt no desire to have a drink. A positive in the sea of shit his private life had become.
“Looks like the little woman is waiting up for you, son.”
The driver’s words drew Chance’s attention to the house, and as they pulled up next to the porch, he spotted Naomi occupying one of the rockers, as if she’d never left. If there hadn’t been a fellow witness, Chance might have thought he’d imagined her.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said, climbing out slowly, afraid any sudden movement would make her disappear.
“My pleasure,” the man replied, turning around in the wide drive once Chance had shut the car door.
Naomi stayed silent as he approached, shadowed eyes staring out into the night. Chance’s mouth went dry as he climbed the stairs and took the chair beside her. He wanted to tell her everything, but no words came. Instead, he rocked and waited, considering the possibilities.
Was she there to tell him to go to hell in person? Or, by some miracle, did this mean a change of heart in his favor?
“I didn’t mean to drive down here,” she said, gaze still locked on the distance. “I never intended to come here ever again.”
Chance gripped the arm of the chair. “I’m glad you did.”
“Don’t be,” Naomi snapped, turning to face him. “You might not like what I have to say.”
Probably not, but he’d listen anyway. “Try me.”
A wisp of hair danced in the breeze as she stared through him. “I’ve done my best to hate you. Not just for the last couple weeks, but for the last seven years.”
“Can’t say that I blame you.”
She shook her head and then turned away. “Do you hate yourself, Chance? Is that why you think it should be so easy for everyone else to hate you?”
He took the time to ponder the question, drawing a different conclusion than he might have a month or two ago. “No, I don’t hate myself.”
“I don’t hate you, either.” She set the rocker into motion. “Did you even consider that the source of that article might have been someone else?”
Chance owed her honesty. “No.”
A sound, half moan, half laugh, escaped her lips. “I suppose I was the obvious guess.”
“You should have been the last guess,” he corrected. “When I read the details in that article, it was like being sliced open with a knife. I couldn’t be removed from it anymore. Seeing the ugliest parts of your life printed in black and white puts you right back in that place, and every instinct says to fight your way back out.” His chest tightened with regret. “I followed that instinct, and you suffered for it.”
Naomi swiped a tear away as she took a deep breath. “How do we change that?”
Unsure what she meant, Chance leaned forward in his chair to ease the burning in his lungs. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to do whatever you need.”
“I need you to trust me, but more importantly, you need to believe that I trust you.”
He glanced up to find her watching him. “I don’t understand.”
She left her chair to kneel before him. “The problem has never been trusting other people, Chance. You have endless valid reasons not to do that. Anyone who’s endured what you have has those reasons. But you have to have faith in yourself. In your worth and your strength and your value. That’s the only way we’re going to make this work.” She took his good hand in hers. “Because once you see how good and deserving you are, you’ll know that I would never hurt you. If you see yourself the way that I do, then those doubts and fears won’t ever get in the way again, and you’ll have no reason to push me away.”
In that moment, Chance saw himself through Naomi’s eyes. If this woman glimpsed enough good in him to forgive everything he’d put her through, then he had to be deserving of that forgiveness. That’s what had drawn him to her the first time around. That look on her face. The unwavering belief that Chance deserved to be loved. He’d always thought she saw what wasn’t there, but maybe she’d recognized what had been there all along.
“I swear to you,” he said, squeezing her hand, “that I will never screw this up again. I can’t say I’ll never lose my temper or be a cranky ass now and then, but I promise you, baby, I’ll never give you another reason to leave me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, Nay. Please, come home.”
Naomi cupped his face with tears in her eyes. “I’m home, honey. I’m home.”
Chance pulled her into his lap and took her mouth with his, happier than he’d ever been in his life. With this woman by his side, he could do anything from write hit songs to defeat his inner demons. Naomi was the light to his darkness. The reward for his triumphs. And for all his living days, he’d never let her go again.
Three months later . . .
Once the last of the guests had arrived, Naomi went in search of Chance. They’d planned this day down to the minute, and thankfully, the attendees had all shown up right on schedule. Though they all believed the festive event to be a simple Labor Day cookout in her and Chance’s backyard, everyone in attendance would soon learn the truth.
She found the love of her life near the stage, as planned. Though this had initially been Chance’s
idea, once the planning had begun, Naomi had expected him to step back and leave the details to her. But she’d been wrong. Chance had been by her side for every choice and decision, sharing more than one surprising opinion.
Not the least of which was that they bring her mother in on the surprise. In hindsight, Naomi realized that, had they gone through with this and not let Dawn be a part of the behind-the-scenes action, her mother would likely blame Chance for robbing her of the opportunity to plan her daughter’s wedding.
The man was not only sexy, sweet, and talented, he’d proven quite savvy where her mother was concerned. At least since the night he’d spent playing poker with the Mallard men. Naomi harbored a sneaking suspicion that Lawrence had aided in Chance’s mother-in-law education.
Sneaking up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his solid middle and raised onto her tiptoes. “It’s time,” she whispered.
Without hesitation, Chance signaled Archie, who followed them onto the stage that had been erected the day before in front of the barn. Because this was their inaugural Colburn Labor Day Cookout, they’d spared no expense. Large white tents dotted the expansive lawn, two bounce houses as well as an inflatable slide filled the space beside the house, and a championship barbecue team, armed with the largest mobile smoker Naomi had ever seen, served up mouthwatering varieties of beef and pork, making the entire yard smell like carnivore heaven.
Holding tight to Naomi’s hand, Chance tapped the microphone at center stage. “Is this thing on?” The crowd turned their way. “Looks like it is. Welcome, folks, to our first-ever cookout here at the Colburn homestead. We’re glad you could join us.”
The small audience, consisting of their closest friends and family, applauded their hosts.
“Nay and I have a confession to make. You see, we weren’t totally honest about why we’re throwing this little shindig, but hope y’all won’t mind being swindled when you learn the truth.” Smiling down at her, Chance continued. “This isn’t just a cookout. This is our wedding.”
Several gasps echoed from the crowd, followed by a loud whoop somewhere in the back.
Archie, who’d graciously agreed to be ordained in order to perform the ceremony, cleared his throat. “Y’all take your places. I’ve got it from here.”
Naomi broke free and hustled to the side of the stage, where April appeared with her bouquet. Her mother dragged the father of the bride forward to fulfill his duties. Her poor dad had not been apprised of the impending nuptials and looked completely gobsmacked to be giving his daughter away.
“Close your mouth, Benny,” Dawn ordered, “before a bug flies in there.”
Her father ignored his wife as Naomi slid her hand around his arm. “Honey, are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Dad.”
He nodded as a bright smile split his face. “Then I guess I have to hand you off. You look beautiful.”
Glancing down at her simple white cotton dress, Naomi returned his smile. “Thank you. Mom picked it out.”
Bushy brows shot up. “Really?”
Naomi had been just as surprised. “I never thought she’d agree to simple, but she did.”
Benny patted her hand. “She’s a good woman, that mother of yours.”
Finding said woman fighting back tears in the front row, Naomi agreed. “Yes, she is.”
The next twenty minutes went by in a blur. Vows and rings were exchanged. Tears were shed. And suddenly, Archie made the big announcement.
“I give you Mr. and Mrs. Chance Colburn.”
A roar of approval rang through the air as the couple sealed the moment with a kiss. Naomi clung tight to her husband’s shoulders, tasting a hint of sweet honey-barbecue sauce on his lips.
When the kiss went on a little too long, Baker yelled, “Get a room, would ya!”
They broke apart amid laughter and lingering applause.
“I love you, Chance,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Nay. More than anything. I love you.”
“I’m impressed,” Clay said. “This might be the most relaxed wedding I’ve ever attended.”
Chance chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The label owner raised his mason jar. “As intended.”
Sam Walters, who occupied the seat beside Clay, offered her congratulations. “Relaxed and beautiful. I’m happy for both of you.”
“Thanks, Sam. Maybe you’ll be next.”
Clay turned to the woman beside him and Chance noticed a pulse of tension along his jawline. “Who’s the lucky man?”
Sam shook her head. “No lucky man for me. I’m afraid I’m doomed to be eternally single.”
As Clay visibly relaxed, Chance smiled. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“This is your wedding day.” She laughed as she raised her own tea-filled mason jar. “You’ve got happily ever after on the brain. Tomorrow, it’s back to reality for the rest of us.”
Chance spotted Naomi on the dance floor with her brother, head tossed back in laughter. He still couldn’t believe she was his.
“If I can find a happy ending,” he said, “anybody can.”
“That sounds like a lyric to me,” chimed in Ash Shepherd, as he joined them at the table.
Though Chance had written some of the best songs of his career in the weeks before entering the studio, he’d agreed to give collaboration another shot. To his surprise, Ash had complemented his style and shared Chance’s approach to music. Together, they’d written five songs in less than a month, three of which would definitely make the album.
Leaning forward, Sam crossed her arms on the table. “We’re at a wedding, Shepherd. Turn your brain off for a while and enjoy yourself.”
The good-natured Georgia boy grinned. “Can’t help it, Ms. Walters. There’s always another hook just waiting to be written down.”
“Speaking of hooks,” Clay cut in, “I’ve snagged another artist for the Shooting Stars roster.”
“Anyone I know?” Chance asked, curious who the label would sign next.
“Maybe. Have you crossed paths with Jesse Gold?”
Ash’s grin fell away. “Of Honkytonk Daisies?”
Clay pointed to the songwriter. “That’s the one. You know her?”
“We’re from the same hometown.”
Not exactly a full answer, Chance noticed.
“What happened to her duet partner?” Sam asked.
“Taylor Roper decided to go solo and signed with Tony Rossi over at Foxfire. That left Jesse looking for a deal, so I snagged her. Her vocal range is impressive, her style is unique enough to make her stand out, and she comes with a small but established fan base. I’m looking forward to working with her.”
The conversation drew to an abrupt halt when Tristan catapulted himself into Chance’s lap. “I wanna bounce, Uncle Chance.”
“Then go bounce, buddy.”
“Mama won’t let me.”
A rounded Shelly took a seat beside Sam. “You stomped on Naomi’s niece’s hand. You’re done bouncing until you learn to pay attention to the kids around you.”
The tiny face crumpled as he looked up at Chance. “I didna do it on porpus, Uncle Chance. She put her hand unda my foot.”
Not falling for the puppy dog eyes, he said, “Sorry, buddy. What your mom says goes. Why don’t you go find Willie and Waylon?” A month earlier, Naomi had insisted that Willie needed a friend. Chance had argued otherwise. And lost.
Adequately distracted, the boy leaped to his feet. “Okay.” Tristan sprinted across the dance floor toward the house, drawing Chance’s attention to his bride, lingering alone along the edge.
“Y’all keep talking shop.” He tapped the linen tablecloth, eyes locked on Naomi. “I’ve got a wife to dance with.”
The vision in white saw him coming and met Chance in the middle of the floor. “Come here often?” she asked with a sexy grin as her body melted against his.
“No, ma’am. This
is my first time.” Her jasmine scent filled his senses as she wound her arms around his neck to toy with the hair along his collar. “Are you here alone?”
“Oh no. I have a husband around here somewhere.”
Chance let his hands slide over her hips, enjoying once again holding her with two hands. “Does he know how lucky he is?”
Naomi kissed the tip of his chin. “I believe he does.”
Dropping the charade, he pulled her tighter. “I love you, Nay.”
“I love you, too.” Eyes darkening, she tapped a warm fingertip against his lips. “Think anyone would notice if we snuck away?”
Lifting her off her feet, he growled, “I don’t give a shit if they notice or not.”
His wife’s laughter echoed through the tent as the groom carried his bride off into the night.
Acknowledgments
Though I make my living putting words on the page, I’m not sure I can convey how much fun I’m having writing this series. Nashville is a special town that changed my life more than twenty years ago. I can’t think of a better setting for my love stories, and plan to keep my happily ever afters in this town as long as I can.
As always, these books are never truly a solo endeavor. I need to thank Kim Law for helping me brainstorm this one, and for letting me run away to her house when I needed a quiet place to work. Thanks to my daughter, who played zookeeper to our six pets while I was off working, and who listened to my ramblings without any justifiable eye rolling.
Some of you might have figured out that my inspiration for Chance Colburn was the one and only Waylon Jennings (a country outlaw with shaggy hair and a trademark black vest). He was one of my father’s favorites, a legend who experienced enormous success while facing down demons of his own. This book is not based in any way on his life, but his travails inspired me to explore the dichotomy of navigating an often troubled public life while attempting to keep some level of privacy.
Thank you to all the readers who have embraced the Shooting Stars series. I hope that these books inspire you to chase your dreams, embrace your talents, and perhaps consider paying Music City a visit. The big city with a small-town feel will welcome you with open arms and a toe-tapping tune. No boots required.
