Blue Ridge Sunrise

by Denise Hunter

  He’d never agree to that. But maybe the thought of her sticking around without him would inspire some flexibility. Talking to Kyle was sometimes like playing a game of chess.

  He flipped to the next channel. And the next.

  He didn’t have to say what he expected her to do. Call a Realtor and list the place. Handle matters from afar. Distance herself from Copper Creek and everyone in it. Just getting him to come back for the funeral had been like moving a mountain.

  But suddenly she knew she wouldn’t do what he wanted. She couldn’t leave with all this unsettled. She’d already let Granny down. She was going to do right by her this time—whatever that meant.

  Zoe sank onto the bed beside him, wishing he’d at least look at her. “The Realtor’s offices are closed now anyhow and will be for the rest of the weekend. We need to stay put at least through Monday.”

  His eyes darted to hers, then back to the TV, a shadow flickering as his jaw twitched.

  “We can leave Tuesday and still be back in plenty of time to get ready for Summer Fest. You’ll have more time with your friends here.” She still had no idea what she was going to do, but she had to buy some time.

  “I didn’t ask for this, Kyle, but I have to handle it.” She put a hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. It always softened him. “Be patient with me?”

  His eyes turned to hers, sticking this time. Those eyes that could burn like blue fire or grow as cold as a glacier. Right now they were somewhere in between, and she knew her efforts were working.

  He sighed. “Fine. But we leave Tuesday morning.”

  It was a major concession. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Kyle.”

  But later she lay awake for hours, the night slowly ticking away. She remembered the sound of Granny humming in the orchard. Remembered the way she’d sat on the floor playing games with her and Brady, never too busy for them. The way she’d encouraged Zoe when algebra had her in tears.

  And then, as always when she remembered those days, her thoughts turned to Cruz. To the strength she’d once found in his sturdy embrace. The love she’d seen in his deep brown eyes. Then she remembered the way his gaze had felt on her today, warm and wistful, and tears melted silently into her pillow.

  chapter four

  Zoe didn’t know how Kyle had talked her into coming tonight. The Rusty Nail was packed with locals, every seat taken, and a crowd milled around the bar. The smell of grilled burgers hung heavily in the air, making her stomach turn. Rawley Watkins, the lead singer of Last Chance, belted out the chorus of a country tune about a girl that got away.

  Zoe pushed back her plate and helped Gracie reach her cup of juice. Kyle was at the next table, talking with Axel Brown and Garret Morgan. His chest was puffed out as they quizzed him about his rock star life.

  She blocked out the conversation, glancing at the entrance for the hundredth time. A few stragglers entered, no one she recognized.

  She turned her attention to the band onstage as one of the musicians broke into a rousing solo on his violin. The crowd applauded when the solo ended, and the chorus kicked up again.

  “Mama!” Gracie held her arms out. “Pick me up.”

  Zoe lifted her daughter from the booster seat. “You all full, sweetie pie?”

  “Yes.” Gracie rubbed her eyes with her pudgy fingers, which Zoe had, thankfully, just wiped clean.

  The band would break soon, and Zoe hoped Kyle would be ready to leave. They’d only played one set, but Gracie needed to get to bed. But seeing as how a fan club had formed around Kyle, she was going to have a hard time getting him out of here.

  Brady returned to the table with their drinks as the band announced their first break. Hope skirted the other tables, stopping to check on customers along the way.

  “Want me to take her?” Brady asked, nodding toward Gracie, who’d settled against her shoulder.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Break time.” Hope plopped down at the table, arching a brow at Brady as her gaze raked over him. “Nice shirt, Collins.”

  Brady looked down, scowling as he wetted a napkin. “That may or may not be spit-up.”

  “Color looks good on you. Brings out your tan.”

  “That was my goal.”

  “Where is little Sammy?” Hope said. “I want my cuddle time.”

  “My weekend with him got cut short. Long story.”

  “That was a phenomenal set,” Zoe said. “The band’s even better than I remembered.”

  “We have got to get you up there, girl. Next set. Come on, pleeaase?”

  “You should do it, Zoe,” her brother said.

  “Oh, no. I’m on vacation this week.” The thought of singing in front of all these familiar faces made her mouth go dry. Plus Kyle wouldn’t like it, and there was already enough tension arcing between them to zap a grown elephant dead.

  “You should ask Kyle to sing, though,” Zoe said. “He’d probably do it.”

  “Seriously? The band would sooner quit than let him on that stage.” Hope propped her arms on the table, leaning closer. “Zoe, when are you going to leave that loser? He’s no good for you.”

  Brady held his Coke aloft. “Preach it, sister.”

  It was nothing Zoe hadn’t told herself a hundred times. She and Kyle had started as only friends, but now her life, her livelihood, was entwined with his. And she didn’t have the gumption to untangle it.

  Hope set her hand on Zoe’s arm. “Come back home. Run the orchard. You’ll have a place to stay—a stable home for Gracie, close to family.”

  “You’d make a good living,” Brady said. “And we’d be here for you all the way.”

  Zoe refused to admit it was the very thing that had been spinning in her mind all day. “Stop ganging up on me.”

  “We care about you, Zoe,” Hope said. “And we don’t like the way he treats you.”

  Zoe’s eyes darted to the next table, only to find Kyle’s gaze fixed on her. She knew he couldn’t hear their conversation, but the way his eyes narrowed made her wonder if he had telepathic abilities.

  A chill raced down her spine. She tore her eyes away from him and dug through her purse with her free hand. For what, she didn’t know.

  “You’re different, Zoe,” Brady said.

  “He’s isolated you from your family. Can’t you see that?”

  “What is this, an intervention?” Her face flushed as she rooted through her purse and came up with a Chap Stick. She rubbed it on Gracie’s lips, her hand trembling.

  “You don’t need him,” Hope said. “If you’re staying on account of the band, Last Chance would take you in a heartbeat. I know they’re not as big as Brevity, but the genre is more up your alley. Please consider it.”

  “You know why Granny left you that orchard. It’s where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged. You can’t sell it. Do you really want to see it leave the family?”

  Suddenly Zoe was tired of being told what to do. What to think. How to feel. “Stop pressuring me!”

  Brady and Hope traded looks.

  “We’re not trying to pressure you, honey,” Hope said, squeezing her hand. “We just want what’s best for you.”

  Zoe felt, more than saw, the entrance door swing open. Her heart gave a sturdy punch as Cruz crossed the threshold, scanning the crowd. He looked like every country girl’s dream in his plaid button-down and worn blue jeans.

  Zoe jerked her eyes away and pushed back from the table. “I’m taking Gracie to the bathroom.” Tugging the startled little girl by the hand, Zoe skirted the tables, headed down the short hall, and ducked into the restroom, her heart keeping pace with the up-tempo song blaring from the speakers.

  Cruz’s eyes flittered over the crowded restaurant. The place was jammed tonight, as it always was when Last Chance played. His friends had promised to save him a seat, but he stepped up to the crowded bar, knowing table service was probably running slow.

  His eyes caught on a woman walking the opposite di
rection. It took him a moment to recognize Zoe’s slender form. At the sight of the child close beside her, a fist tightened in his gut. He looked away.

  Those last weeks before she left began playing out in his mind in vivid Technicolor. That familiar ache in his chest returned, making it hard to breathe. He had to stop thinking about her. She’d soon be gone, just like last time, and he was done nursing that sore spot.

  When he got to the front of the line he ordered a drink and withdrew bills from his wallet. He was just stuffing it back into his pocket when the hairs on his arms bristled.

  Surprise, surprise. He found Kyle an arm’s-length away, staring at him, his cold blue eyes gloating.

  The song ended, the energetic sound of the crowd taking over for a few long beats.

  Kyle’s lips curled up at one corner. “Huntley. Still hanging around this Podunk town, I see.”

  It was supposed to be a greeting, but the mocking sound of his voice and the smug look on his face made Cruz want to slug him in the jaw.

  “Jimmerson.” He feigned indifference, but he couldn’t help antagonizing. “How’s my girl?”

  Kyle’s lips fell, flattening into a hard line. His nostrils flared. Muscles, probably honed at some fancy hotel gym, bunched up as his spine lengthened.

  Cruz was glad for the extra few inches he had on Kyle and hoped like heck the idiot would throw the first punch. It was a long time coming.

  But Kyle must’ve been worried about messing up his face. As the next song started up, he slowly relaxed, that smug look returning.

  “She hasn’t been yours for a long time, Huntley.” His eyes lit with something spiteful and cruel. “It’s my bed she’s sleeping in now.”

  The arrow hit its target, the words simultaneously making his flesh crawl and his blood boil. His fists clenched.

  Just one hit, God. That’s all I’m asking.

  Before Cruz could think of a response, Kyle reached for his beer, winking at the attractive bartender. He lifted it in salute to Cruz just before he sauntered away, and Cruz was left gritting his teeth.

  This was the longest night in all eternity, Zoe thought as she shifted Gracie on her lap. Her daughter had fallen asleep almost an hour ago, and Zoe’s arm was going numb. Her own eyes were getting heavy, but Kyle wasn’t going anywhere now.

  He’d planted himself at her side as soon as she’d returned from the restroom, and he hadn’t left since. His arm tightened around her, and he pressed another alcohol-laced kiss to her forehead. It sure wasn’t the “redneck music” keeping him here. He was going to rub their relationship in Cruz’s face as long as he could.

  Heat rolled off her, and her left eye began twitching. Cruz had no doubt gotten over her long ago, but she hated being a pawn in Kyle’s little mind games. With every day, every hour she spent in Copper Creek she wondered more and more what she was doing with him.

  She pulled in a lungful of air, her tightened chest feeling the stretch. The familiar spicy smell of Kyle’s cologne assaulted her senses, making her stomach turn.

  Her eyes wandered a few tables over where her brother sat with his friends Jack and Noah, and Noah’s wife, Josephine. And Cruz. He was part of the group as well.

  Realizing her gaze had fixed on him, she tore it away, focusing on the lead singer as he belted out the lyrics.

  She remembered when Saturday nights at the Rusty Nail were the highlight of her week. When it was just a bunch of friends, talking and laughing and being real. Nothing seemed real anymore. And she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d laughed.

  What kind of example is that for Gracie? She set her cheek on her daughter’s downy-soft curls.

  The song came to a bold close, the audience applauding and whistling loudly.

  Hope stepped up to the mic, and the noise died down. “Thank you so much! Y’all are awesome, and the band appreciates your support. All right now, we have a special treat for you tonight. I want you to put two hands together for the gorgeous . . . and talented . . . sweet friend of mine . . .”

  Oh no.

  “Zoe Collins!”

  Zoe straightened, her face heating as every head turned her way. Kyle stiffened beside her. She was somehow frozen to her seat, the weight of her daughter holding her there.

  But then Brady was lifting Gracie from her arms. “Go on, sis. Your fans await.”

  “Come on up here, girl. Show ’em what you’re all about. Help me out, y’all! She needs a little encouragement.”

  The crowd applauded louder, whistles piercing the space.

  Zoe’s heart thudded against her chest, and her smile felt as tight as a fiddle string. She had to go up there. What else could she do?

  She stood, avoiding Kyle’s eyes. The audience showed their approval, growing even louder as she approached the stage.

  “It’s been a few years,” Hope said into the mic, “but I think this one’s gonna come right back to ya, friend!”

  The band struck up the rousing intro to “Country Girl.” Zoe took the mic from Hope, then her friend slipped off the stage.

  Zoe shared a smile with the lead singer. Her hands trembled, but she tapped her foot, keeping time with the four-on-the-floor beat. She made eye contact with the drummer, an old classmate, and he nodded his encouragement.

  Rawley started the first verse, and Zoe found her body moving in time to the catchy tune. The stage lights weren’t as bright as they were at the gigs she usually played. She could see familiar faces, friends she hadn’t seen in years. They smiled, clapping along. The dance floor filled until there was hardly room for the crowd to move.

  When the chorus began, Zoe lifted the mic and began singing harmony, trading looks with Rawley and playing it up good. It was a fun song, the words quick, the beat snappy, and Zoe couldn’t help but fall right in.

  When the chorus ended, Rawley gestured to her, and she lifted the mic and started into the second verse. Her heart was thudding, her skin flushed with heat. But the words came back like they’d never been lost, and an exhilaration she hadn’t felt in years flooded her to overflowing.

  The crowd was loving it, loving her, and though she was getting out of breath, the mood was contagious.

  When the chorus came around again she slipped into the harmony, her voice blending with Rawley’s like they’d rehearsed it a hundred times. She shimmied and waggled her head, giving herself over to the playful lyrics.

  The guitarist started his solo, and Rawley spun her around until she was dizzy. The violinist’s bow flew across the strings, and the drummer executed a well-timed fill. The lead guitarist’s fingers worked the neck of his guitar, leaning back, and the bass player turned her way, nodding in time to the beat.

  She was used to singing in a band, but she’d never felt so much a part of one before. They belted out the chorus for the last time, and Zoe found herself wishing the song could go on all night.

  But like all good things, it came to an end, the drummer and other musicians building up to the last dynamic beats. And then it was over. A cheer, almost deafening, rose up to fill the sudden silence.

  “Thank you!” Zoe was flushed with pleasure as she handed the mic back to Hope and stepped off the stage.

  “What’d I tell you?” Hope said. “Let’s hear it for our hometown girl . . . Zoe Collins!”

  Zoe’s legs trembled with excitement, and she beamed at her friends and neighbors as she navigated through the crowd, accepting high fives and hugs.

  As she approached her table, her gaze connected with Kyle’s. He was standing, waiting for her with his trademark smile, but the look in his eyes made her blood slow to a cold crawl.

  Her mood deflated as quickly as a punctured party balloon, and she worked hard to keep her smile in place.

  He pulled her into a hug that must’ve seemed celebratory to the onlookers. But the too-tight squeeze and the growl in her ear made his real mood crystal clear.

  “Get Gracie. We’re leaving.”

  She pulled away, trembling for a dif
ferent reason now, and turned to Brady.

  “That was sweet, sis,” Brady said over the music.

  “Thanks.” She held out her arms for Gracie, and he handed over the sleeping girl.

  “You’re not leaving . . . ?” he asked.

  “Um, yeah. Need to get her to bed. Good night, y’all.” She didn’t dare make eye contact with Cruz.

  The smile on her face felt plastic as she made her way to the exit. Kyle’s hand on the small of her back felt hot and suffocating somehow.

  The rapid shift in her mood had left her suddenly exhausted and confused and angry all at once. The door slapped shut behind them, the music dropping a dozen decibels. Enough that she could hear the pebbles shifting under their feet and the crickets chirping nearby as they made their way back to the grassy lot where Kyle’s Mustang was parked.

  He moved to her side, his hand dropping. “What was that, Zoe?” His words were clipped.

  She shifted Gracie, trying to work up some remorse. But she felt no regret. She’d felt more alive in those three minutes than she’d felt in years. She’d remembered, just for a few minutes, who she used to be.

  And, man, did she miss that girl.

  “It was just a song, Kyle.”

  “You were flirting with Rawley. Right there on stage for everyone to see!”

  He did the very same thing with Lindsay, the keyboardist in their band. “It was just part of the show.”

  He grabbed her elbow, jerking her to a stop.

  Gracie slipped, and Zoe tightened her grip to keep her from falling.

  “You made a fool of me!”

  “I was just performing.”

  “Were you performing when you were staring at Huntley all night too? Do you think I didn’t notice the way you followed him with your eyes?”

  “That’s not true.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. “You’ve been talking to him!”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  His fingers dug into the flesh of her arm. “Don’t you lie to me.”

  “You’re hurting me.” Unable to keep hold of Gracie, she let the girl slide down her leg. Gracie whimpered in her sleep as she settled in the grass.