Page 111 of Sing Me Home
Because of Cash.
My head turned, trying to find him in the sea of cars. He was right. I couldn’t be away from him for two months. I didn’twant to be away from him for two days.
I was going to let him squirm a little though, maybe show up as the bus was rolling out of Ford’s driveway. But I’d be next to him on tour, every step of the way. You better believe, with a boyfriend so beautiful it drove people to petty crimes like braid-pulling, I was going to protect what was mine.
And maybe over the next two months, when we weren’t kissing, napping in each other’s arms, or writing more songs, I could figure out how to earn back some of that money. Because I loved Cash so ridiculously much—and I wanted to build that home overlooking the lake, sit on our back porch during thunderstorms, and listen to the rain hit the tin roof. Make a little love in every single room. Or a lot.
I giggled at the thought.
Cate cooed, and I pressed a kiss to her little hand.
I stared down at my sister, mesmerized, thinking of Cash and everything that marrying him might mean. Letting myself hope big—bigger than I’d hoped in a long time—that maybe, finally, I could have everything I ever wanted.
thirty-five
Charlie
Isat on the floor of the barn at Dupree Ranch, snuggling one of Lula’s puppies. Bowen was next to me, holding another, petting her velvety ears. My cousin, who’d come over with his family to hug Ford and Cash goodbye, had made his way to my house, looking heartbroken and gutted—definitely needing some puppy therapy.
My smart watch vibrated. I smothered it with my palm and went back to stroking Boy B’s soft hair. Lula’s adopted babies would be gone when I got home from the tour. Peyton had already found all of them homes. Well, all but the girl whose face was a perfect black and white split. Addie had claimed (and named) Twila for her own.
“You are so cute,” I said in a baby voice, running a finger down the puppy’s spine. “Yes, you are. I’m going to miss you.” I held him right up to Bowen’s face. “Isn’t this the cutest little guy?”
He scowled. “He smells like butt.”
“You smell like butt,” I said, still in the baby voice. I cradled the pup to my chest. “Ignore him. He’s just cranky because he tried to play tonsil-hockey with his brother’s girlfriend and it didn’t go so well.”
“Didn’t go so well?” Bowen growled. “Check out my face, Charlie.”
I set the puppy in the crate. Then I sat back and looked at my cousin. His eye was stippled in varying shades of black and purple, reminiscent of a kindergartner’s ink blot painting—announcing to the world that Bowen had done a big no-no.
I shook my head and laughed. “What did you expect?”
His eyes went wide with irritation. “What did I expect? I’ll tell you what Ididn’texpect. For her to kiss me.”
“But she did,” I said simply.
His head dropped to his hands but then he winced. “Ugh, it hurts.”
“Your eye or your heart?” I teased.
But he didn’t laugh. He looked a little betrayed. “Really? You think this is funny?”
“No. I was just trying to make you laugh.” I gave him a sad smile. “How long have you been crushing on Maggie?”
His brows puckered. “I haven’t.”
I rubbed his knee. “You can tell me the truth. It won’t leave this barn.” I crossed my heart.
He looked exhausted, with a dark circle under his good eye that came from little to no sleep. And his labored breathing told me he was hurting intensely.
“Fine,” he said. “In hindsight, maybe I let myself think about her too much.” His eyes held a pain that dug into my heart like a rusty screw. “But honestly, I didn’t even realize what I was feeling. Not until that kiss.”
That added up. The shock on his face had looked genuine. “Maggie doesn’t seem like the type to go around tearing families apart willy-nilly. She must really like you. Maybe…in a couple of years…when this dies down and she’s done with med school…”
He shook his head. “Griff would never be okay with that. And even if by some miracle he was, that’s not the story you want to tell your kids. That their mom used to be their uncle’s girlfriend and the two of you cheated.”
“I mean…” Dare I even bring this up? Yes, I dare. “Aunt Christy and your dad used to be a thing.”
