Page 4 of Nashville Lights

“See what?”

Dakota’s words come out in an excited gush. “Okay, I can’t keep the secret any longer. I’ve beenburstingto tell you. But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Tell me what, Dee?”

“Well, remember how Tobias wanted to start up his own restaurant?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know how I’ve always kind of loved the idea of starting an event planning business?”

“Yeah.”

“We know it’s a long way to come all the way out here just for dinner, so we’ve set up a small boutique B&B. It’s also a wedding and event venue. Think farm-luxe chic. We’ve been run off our feet with bookings and we’re not even officially open yet. Can you believe it, Rox?”

“Dee! Why didn’t you tell me any of this? That sounds amazing.”

Dakota laughs. “I didn't tell you because you were on tour. I know I can reach you for emergencies, but you don’t have much time to just jump on a video call and chat for an hour. And besides, Tobias and I kind of wanted to surprise you when you finally got out here. We knew you would eventually and we hoped it wouldn’t be too long.”

Guilt pangs in my stomach. I know I’m not the easiest person to have as a best friend when most of the time I’m too busy to reply to texts, let alone schedule chats or actual real-life meet-ups.

“I can’t wait to see it.” When we were kids, Dakota was always the one who was planning our little tea parties and decorating our picnic tables with wildflower bouquets. And even from a young age, Tobias was in the kitchen creating elaborate delicacies. He hand-squeezed our lemonade and not only frosted the cupcakes but created little sugar fondant decorations to sit on the tops of them. “We have so much to catch up on, Dee. I’m almost here. I can see the house.”

“I can see your truck! We’re all so excited, Rox. Okay, I’m hanging up so I can tell all the others you’re here.”

“See you in a minute.”

As we disconnect the call, my heart feels like it might burst with happiness to be back here. I’m also attempting to tone down the butterflies erupting in my stomach now that I know there’s a very good chance I’ll run into Nate Boone during my stay. And I really don’t know how to feel about that.

My Aunt Lou and Uncle Earl, Betty-Ann, Dakota andthe boys were all such a staple of my summers, they feel ingrained in my bones. They’re a part of who I am and I realize I’ve left it way too long to come back to them.

As for Nate, I remember so well his crooked grin, the way his eyes would shine when he laughed, and how I would catch sight of him walking across the lawn to the farmhouse in his low-slung jeans and his t-shirt slung over one suntanned, gracefully-muscular shoulder.

A lot has happened since I’ve been back, in both our lives.

As I pull up in front of the house, the welcoming farmhouse brings back a thousand golden memories.

I park my truck and take a deep breath. I’m not just coming back to a place. I’m returning to a family and a world I left behind, one that holds pieces of my heart I didn’t even realize I’d kept locked away until right now.

2

“She’s here! She’s here!”My excitable best friend comes running out the front door, screen door slamming behind her, sprinting down the steps. I’m enveloped in a deep, joyful hug.

“Hey, Dee.” I sigh. It’s one of those restorative sighs that somehow goes a long way toward replenishing my supply of soul food.

“It’s been way too long, bestie.” She slings her arm around my shoulders and we walk up toward the house. “I see you haven’t upgraded your ride even with all that money you’ve got now.”

“I like Bertha.” It was Dakota who named my truck when my brothers gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. And it was Nate who tuned it up so itstopped making the clunking noise every time I tried to start it. Even though I don’t drive it much these days, it’s been reliable ever since.

Betty-Ann is waiting on the porch. I texted my Aunt Lou last week and she told me she and Earl had a charity dinner event held by her sewing circle tonight but would absolutely cancel it so they could spend time with me. I texted back and told her they should absolutely go to the dinner and I would see them in the morning and that we had the whole weekend to catch up. She finally relented. The Boones’ farmhouse kitchen is where she spends most of her time anyway, chatting with Betty-Ann as they cook, sipping iced tea (and sometimes sherry) and gossiping about the local townspeople in nearby Sugar Falls, which has a population of somewhere around four thousand—more than enough to give them plenty to talk about.

“Hi, darlin’.” Betty-Ann hugs me. “Welcome home.”

“It’s so good to be here.”

Betty-Ann blots her eyes with the tissue she always keeps stuffed up her sleeve. “When are those brothers of yours coming for a visit?”

“They’d all love to. But their schedules have been pretty busy.”

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