She crosses her arms over her chest and raises a brow.
“We were sort of pen pals back in the day. Accidentally. When we were teenagers.”
Her eyes narrow before she throws her head full of blonde curls back and laughs loudly. “I'm sorry. What? Pen pals? People do that?”
“I said it’s a long story.”
She shakes her head again. “How old were you when you were pen pals? Wouldn’t she have been younger than you?”
I’m painfully aware.Though now, that four-year gap that made me think of her as a child didn’t seem so large.
“She was fourteen years old when she first accidentally wrote me.”
She’s curious now, leaning forward. “And have y’all ever met before?”
I shake my head no, as she raises another brow in response.
“It was a mix-up, and we just kept writing. She said she needed a pen pal for a school assignment, and I didn’t want her to fail..." I sound ridiculous with my excuses but I knew in my heart, I also enjoyed our friendship, even if it was a bit unorthodox.
Stevie hums as she continues to watch me, likely trying to figure out if I’m being honest.
"What did you mean when you asked if I was a 'fan?'” I probe.
She laughs, “Where have you been?”
My lips form a thin line as she stops and turns to me again. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget you were out of the country for almost a decade. Dove is a rock star now; she’s a part of the band calledDove & the Valor, and occasionally, crazy fans show up in Lonestar Junction expecting her to be here. They’ve gained a lot of popularity on social media. I think she’s had three albums go platinum now.”
Dove & the Valor?
My jaw tightens as I stare at Stevie, unblinking. I think my reaction is subdued, but the look she’s giving me indicates I’m not handling this news well.
“Hey,” she touches my arm gently, “she doesn’t live here anymore, though her siblings still do. She’s on tour most of the time."
I let out a breath, trying to process the news that she isn’t even in the same town I’ve been living in.
"But the night before Thanksgiving, everyone goes out to Rex's Rodeo House Bar to drink and catch up. Dove always comes to town for the holidays to see her family, so I’m sure she'll be there with her siblings, though I’m not sure how she’ll feel about you showing up unannounced. Does she even know what you look like?”
I shake my head no. "I don't think so. I mean, we never exchanged photos or anything."
Stevie chuckles softly again and turns away. "Meet Wylie and me there tomorrow night. We'll try to soften the blow if you’d like to finally meet her, but I can't make any promises. She may think you’re a stalker."
Yesterday, running into Dove felt like an avoidable encounter until I was ready. Now I’ve realized, she doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, but she’ll be here visiting. Temporarily.
If I want to finally meet my old pen pal, I have a narrow window of opportunity. Suddenly, I’m not so sure that Dove, the rock star, will be as eager to see me as I’d hoped...
Chapter 15 – Dallas
I’ve been living in Texas for months now, yet still haven’t updated my driver’s license with my new address.
I’m looking to kill some time before meeting up with Stevie and Wylie at the bar tonight. Even though it’s the day before Thanksgiving and I know the small-town DMV will be even more understaffed than usual, I decide to head over to the Lonestar Junction government building to update my documents. I tell myself that I’ll take care of this menial task to keep my mind off my inevitable meeting with Dove.
The old four-story speakeasy that houses the government offices hasbeentransformed into a DMV, Social Security office, and courthouse—which, anywhere else, wouldn’t make sense. But in small-town, rural America, I’m not the least bit surprised by the multi-purpose building and lack of public parking.
I finally find an open spot that’s large enough to fit my truck, park and then stare up at the old building. It looks ancient from the outside. Wylie had mentioned that it'd been damaged by a rare hurricane that hit the town decades ago and it looks like no one had made the effort to renovate and repair it since that storm. Bricks are crumbling off of the exterior of the property, weeds are overgrown, and the door practically falls off its hingeswhen I grip it open to enter the lobby. I trip on a broken piece of tile on the floor and shake my head.
This place is a safety hazard.
There’s a single, weathered directory encased in a glass box that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in fifty years located in the middle of the lobby. I wipe at the glass, trying to clear whatever soot has been caked on it so that I can find which floor the DMV is located on. It does little to make a difference, but I just barely make out that it’s on the fourth floor.
