Page 83 of Just Business

“I told you before I left, you’re it for me,” he says, his voice full of tenderness. “I want it all with you. Kids, pets, a whole life.”

“I want it all with you, too.” Warmth spreads from my head to my toes, and the couple hundred miles between us feels like thousands.

“How’s therapy going?” I ask, shifting the subject to give myself a break from the raw emotions I’ve been battling all day. I’ve shed way too many tears and I feel that same burning sensation pricking my nose.

“It’s going,” Austin says with a heavy-weighted sigh. “It's not easy but I’m sticking with it. One step at a time. I like him. He pushes me but I want to do the work. I even told him about the night my dad called. Honestly, I was scared as shit to tell him, but I knew I had to.”

“How’d he react to it?” I ask.

“He wasn’t surprised. He reminded me that Rome wasn’t built in a day. But once I’m home I plan on finding an AA chapter to join.”

Home.He uses the word so casually, so naturally.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” I ask, trying out the word for size.

“Next week we’re in Albuquerque, then Red Rocks. I’m gonna fly down to Texas to visit my aunt and uncle and grab more of my things and then I’ll head back.”

While we talk, I head inside to get ready for bed. He tells me about the songs he’s picked for the concerts, and I fill him in on everything happening in Singing River. As I crawl under the covers and get comfortable, a huge yawn slips out

“You need sleep.”

“I hate telling you goodbye.” But another yawn slips out before I can stop it.

“Not much longer now,” he says, his voice low and comforting. “I’ll be home before we know it. But for now, get some rest. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Give Honey some extra scratches for me, okay?” he adds.

“Okay,” I reply, grinning at my phone screen.

“G’night.”

My phone goes black, but the sadness that I expected isn’t there. Only excitement for the future I’m building with this man that I never saw coming.

“Thanks for a great night, Denver! Tonight’s been one to remember! Thank you for coming out and be safe out there!”

The roar of the crowd is loud and I tilt the microphone toward them. Somehow they get even louder. After several minutes of thunderous applause, I exit the stage.

I’ve wrapped up my second encore at the Red Rocks Amphitheater and adrenaline still courses through my veins as I walk toward my tour bus in the back parking lot. Tyler is waiting for me—not to yell like he did a couple months ago when I made this walk, but to talk about the show while it’s still fresh in our minds. The night feels familiar, like so many in the past, but without the fog of alcohol clouding my memories.

I shoot off a good night text to Penny that I know she won't see until morning and climb the steps to my bus.

“So? What’d ya think?” I ask. I grab a bottle of water and stretch out on the couch across from him.

Tyler’s looking down at his phone and when he looks up, just by the look on his face I know. He raises his bottle of water in a mock toast to mine. “You’re done, brother. Just heard from Doug.”

He holds out his phone for me to see where Doug has texted with a thumbs up. My breath catches in my lungs. No more endless tours. No more grueling schedule. It almost seems too good to be true.

“And those new songs are great. Glad you threw those into this deal. Make any progress with an indie label?” Ty asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yeah, some. Been waiting on the final verdict from Doug, but Greg texted a few to check out. I think this one’s solid.” I pull out my phone to show him the website.

Once we met with Doug, I started researching some indie labels in Alabama and reached out to get Greg’s opinion. Second Creek Records is about ten years old, and in that time they’ve signed some impressive artists. The musicians they represent are a mix of country, jazz, folk, and even one heavy metal band. I like what I’ve seen, and more importantly, I trust Greg’s judgment on this.

“Now that I know I can, I’ll set up a meeting with them once I’m back in Singing River,” I say, pocketing my phone again.

“So this is really it?” he asks, a smug look settling on his face.

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