Everyone who’d come on stage waved and left, and Adam said, “And now what you’ve all tuned in for.” He set the mic in the stand and spread both arms wide. “I’m pleased to announce Wild—Wild—West by Coun—try—Quad!”
He brought his hands together for a couple of claps, and then ran off the stage as Uncle Tex and Uncle Trace ran on from the left, with her father from the right. The crowd certainly didn’t need Boston’s sign to cheer and applaud then, but he dutifully did his job.
Uncle Luke always ran on last and did some sort of theatric. Joey clasped her hands together at her throat while Daddy, Uncle Trace, and Uncle Tex settled into their guitars and stood near their mics.
Only then did Uncle Luke make an appearance, and it was not where Joey expected to find him. Instead, he came running out of the stable, and he did a round-off back handspring, right there in the snow.
More applause rained through the sky, along with plenty of whooping and cheering from the younger cousins as Uncle Luke grabbed his puffy vest from Adam, who had somehow positioned himself in exactly the right spot for the hand-off.
He threw his arms through it and jogged onto stage from the back, where he picked up his drumsticks, sat down, and launched into the opening beat ofWild Wild West.
Joey loved her family band, and as she listened to her uncles play and sing, clapping along and joining in on the chorus when she knew all the words, she’d never been happier to share them with the world.
You’re one of them, the thought ran through her mind, and it had not come from Joey herself. She’d fought against such thoughts before, and she wasn’t sure why.
Of course she was one of them.
Of course she belonged, because she was a Young, and Youngs loved and accepted everyone.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Bailey looked up from her phone as one song in the Country Quad holiday concert ended and a new one began—with a single guitar. Her phone fell to her lap as everything calm and peaceful moved through her.
The camera followed Harry Young, who currently strummed solo on his guitar as he walked slowly across the stage and positioned himself in front of the mic, where Bryce’s father had just been.
Bailey had always been a fan of country music, and Country Quad had been on her radar long before the Young brothers had started moving back to Coral Canyon and she’d met Bryce.
She still loved him with a tiny piece of her heart that she suspected would always belong to him, and she’d be forever tied to the Youngs through him—and OJ. She loved that eleven-year-old boy with everything she had, and she wasso glad that she and Bryce had been able to give him a really good life.
The life he deserved.
He’d texted her multiple times about watching the concert tonight as he would be playing, and Bailey had told him she wouldn’t miss it.
“Howdy, folks,” Harry said easily into the microphone, his eyes trained exactly into the camera. Bailey felt like he was looking straight into her soul; he was that charismatic and that connected through a lens.
He continued to strum quietly a tune Bailey didn’t recognize. “I’m Harry Young, and I’m going to be taking over this segment of the show. First, with my number one hit single from my first album,Going Rogue. This song speaks of loss, of overcoming loss in such a way that you realize that the thing or person or whatever it is that you thought you needed, actually doesn’t have the power to make you sad anymore.” He smiled and looked down at his guitar strings. As he brought his head back up, tears filled Bailey’s eyes.
“It’s about healing and hope, and I thought it was perfect for this holiday season. So from me to you, and my family to yours, we want to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”
Bailey had not heard Country Quad say any of that, and they had yet to play a holiday song, though they had a whole album of them.
“Here’s to hope, health, and happiness in the New Year,” Harry said, his smile absolutely devastating.
She wanted a small-town country boy like him with abig smile and loads of charm. She needed it to make up for her more serious and sour personality.
Harry’s guitar started to sing louder, and he leaned into the mic and said, “Here’sTaste of Home.” He played another riff and then started to sing.
Bailey heard the words with her ears, and she felt them drive deep into her soul. Harry sang with such a beautiful voice, and he truly seemed sad about the things that he’d lost. And then, as he moved the ballad into a chorus about love, family, and home, his voice brightened, his entire countenance lit up, and Bailey found herself doing the same. Her tears had dried up, and she smiled at the TV, which she had connected to the live broadcast to watch.
She’d been thinking about returning home for a long time now, but something always kept her in Butte—her successful veterinary practice, for one, and those were hard to build. She’d dated on and off, but no one seriously for a while. But she had friends and colleagues and contacts in the area, and she would have to redo all of that work if she chose to move now.
Still, something called to her from Coral Canyon, even from afar, and Bailey suspected she would end up there sooner rather than later. The practical side of herself wanted to make a note in her phone to start planning the move or reaching out to others and planting feelers for how she could build her business there. She absolutely would not live with her parents. She was thirty-three years old, and doing so would feel like coming home with her tail tucked between her legs—a complete failure.
Harry finished the song, every note in exactly the right place, his fingers not missing a single spot on his guitar. Bailey broke into applause right there, a one-woman standing ovation as she leapt from her couch. They definitely had a crowd at Bryce’s ranch, and they whooped and cheered for Harry too.
Then he turned, and the camera switched to a wider lens, showing the whole stage, as Belle, his beautiful fiancée, walked toward him. She wore a denim skirt and a brown leather top with a horse embossed into it. She truly looked like the Wyoming wife of Harry Young, and he received her easily into his side, his arm curling around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
