I walk past my old home, now a vacation rental. Sadness tugs at me, so I don’t linger. I walk up to Rotary Park, remembering all the times Josh and I played music there after school. Remembering how that music came alive again last night.
I’ve spent so much of my life doing the expected, because it felt safe and familiar. Too afraid to chase what I really wanted. But last night, his hand in mine, or that stage. It was everything. I plop onto a cold bench just inside the park’s entrance, my eyes glued to the now-empty stage that held so much light and life only twelve hours ago. Promise.
I think about my dad, building something new with Joan, despite his age and his health concerns. I think about Sophie’s words to me yesterday:it’s your turn, Mel.
I take a breath, the kind that reaches all the way to the top of your ribs, and I let it out slowly.
Maybe Nashville isn’t goodbye. Maybe it’s the start of something new.
* * *
I sitonthat park bench for what feels like hours before I rise, my joints stiff, and head toward home. I stop at Coffee Tyme and pick up two iced lattes and a couple of muffins before heading back toward my apartment. I find Josh, sitting on the couch, elbows to his knees, looking over some papers—a contract, no doubt.
He looks up the second he hears the door, eyes flicking toward me like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“I thought maybe you got spooked,” he says, a half-laugh caught in his throat. “Took off.”
I sigh, avoiding his eyes for a moment before sitting down. “I just went for a walk. Needed some air.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “I was thinking of going down to our beach, having a picnic before it gets too hot.” I watch him closely. “Will you come with me?”
A slow, relieved smile spreads across Josh’s face. “I’d love to.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later,Josh pulls his truck into the crushed seashell parking lot and puts it in park. We’ve been quiet—pensive—the whole ride over. Like we’ve both got things we want to say and are figuring out how to say them.
Josh grabs his coffee and then reaches into the cab behind him for a flannel blanket. I carry the muffins and my own coffee, and we walk slowly up the path to the spot that’s always felt like ours.
The beach is nearly empty, the morning sun glinting off the water. It smells of fresh salt air. Josh spreads out the blanket and we sit, kicking off our flip-flops. I curl my toes through the cool sand, grounding myself. We sit for a long moment, letting the wind move through us. We watch the waves lapping at the shore, an egret diving for its breakfast.
Then we both speak at once.
“Listen,” Josh starts.
“I think we should?—”
Josh lets out a husky laugh, running a hand through his hair.
I smile sheepishly, waiting for him to go first.
He exhales. “I was just going to say, if this isn’t what you want, we don’t have to do it. I can call Gary. We can tell them no.”
The way he looks at me is steady and sure. Like he’d give it all up for me in an instant.
“But this is your dream,” I whisper, feeling my eyes fill with tears. “You’ve worked so hard to get here.”
He shakes his head. “Itwasmy dream. But dreams can change.” Josh tips my face toward his, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re my dream now, Mel. And if you’re not in it, I don’t want it.”
My chest tightens then, and for a moment I can’t speak. The wind rustles through my hair, and I watch the way his gaze lingers on my face, open and patient.
I bite back the smile threatening to give me away. “I want to go,” I say finally.
Josh’s lips twitch. “You… You want to go?”
I nod. “To Nashville. With you.”
He stills. For a long breath, he just looks at me, like he’s memorizing this exact moment. Finally, his palm finds my cheek, fingers tangling through my windblown hair.
“You want tomoveto Nashville with me?” he repeats, his voice raspy.
