Not when it’s so obvious that our priorities never truly aligned.
11
AVERY
The ranch is a hive of activity when I pull my rental car into the round driveway. Down by the big red barn, I spot people at work, putting together the final touches for the afternoon’s event. Out in the far paddock, my parents are talking to Gracie and some of the other attendees. After a lot of convincing, they left before me. I wanted to take the drive out here to get out of my own head, and I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I traveled with them.
Various animals are being led to pens spread out across the main paddock, and under a large white tent is Georgia, her gray hair pinned back from her face, and a floral apron tied around her waist as she speaks animatedly with her hands.
I climb from the car, smoothing my hands over my baby-blue lace sweetheart midi dress as I suck in a lungful of the fresh mountain air.
Here goes nothing.
I might have gotten away with keeping my return to town low-key when I turned up at The Wildflower, but I don’t think I’ll be so lucky this time around. The thought of being rushed by a crowd sends a jarring bolt of nerves through me.
As if my mind knows what I need to calm the nerves, thoughts of Grayson assail me. All week I’ve been thinking about how I left things with him, about the tick in his jaw when I threw back at him how I gave him a choice and he made his decision.
He can’t blame me for reminding him of that, not when all night I could feel his eyes on me and his hatred, as if I was the only one responsible for our breakup. As much as he might want to pin all the blame on me, he has to see that there were two of us involved.
Exhaling, I force my jaw to loosen before lifting my chin high. Whatever Grayson and I had, it’s in the past. Today, I’m going to spend time with my friends, reconnect with my roots, and have fun. It’s the reason I returned to Coldwater after all, and Grayson Wilde isn’t going to stop that from happening, even if his family is hosting this BBQ.
I walk to the trunk of the car and pop it open. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I stare down at the guitar case. It didn’t feel so real when I put it in here, but now, knowing that I’m hours away from performing, I feel the pressure, the unease, and something I can’t quite pinpoint.
When I arrived for Sunday dinner, Georgia guilt tripped me into performing today. She’s a hard woman to say no to, especially when she gives you those big blue eyes and bats her eyelashes. After a bit of back and forth, I agreed to perform one song. Just one. And yet all week, I’ve been feeling like performing in front of him is a test; one I can’t afford to fail.
Ugh.
I’m starting to think that coming home was a bad idea. Grayson’s everywhere, and all I’ve been able to think about since I crossed the town limits. I’m supposed to be reconnecting with myself, finding my muse again, and falling in love with my music. Not thinking about the boy I left behind. Or the man he’s become.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, I pull my guitar case out and slam the trunk shut with a bit too much force. When I lift my head, I lock eyes with Grayson, as if my thoughts have conjured him up. All I can do is blink, my eyes growing impossibly wide as if he might be aware of where my thoughts have gone. I’ve never been more grateful for the sunglasses I found at the bottom of my bag this morning.
He bounds down the front steps of the house, his attention on me. God, I wish I could see what he’s thinking. When his silver buckle catches the sunlight, my eyes drop to it. The “WH” and Montana mountains etched into the metal remind me of who he is and all that he’s accomplished in the time since I left.
I remember when he showed me that buckle. I traced the mountains, wondering if this land would always mean more to him than I did. As much as I love Coldwater, I don’t think I ever loved it as much as he did. I guess part of me always feared that his connection to the land would somehow surpass his love for me.
Grayson’s father handed the buckle down to him, telling him about the stories of the generations of Wilde men who had worn it before. It’s coated in history and a blatant reminder of how much this ranch, this land, and his family’s legacy mean to him.
Grayson comes to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps, holding my gaze across the roof of the car. Neither of us speaks, the sounds of the ranch in motion filling the silence.
When I can’t take the weight of his stare anymore, I walk around the car toward him, sliding my sunglasses up and into my hair. My legs feel like they’re wading through a bog, but I force myself to keep going. His attention drops to the guitar case, and he shakes his head, huffing out a breath.
I lick my lips nervously, rushing out, “I promised Georgia I’d sing a song. I’ll go right after.”
Grayson removes his hat, running his fingers through the dark brown shaggy strands of his hair. When he replaces the Stetson, he positions it lower, hiding his eyes from me and casting his face in shadow. “It doesn’t matter to me if you stay or go, Avery. It’s a public event.”
Without a word, he turns and heads in the direction of the barn, his back stiff and his dismissal stinging like a whip. I guess everything that happened has only turned what was once his support into resentment.
It’s only when I can no longer see him, his anger and frustration no longer sucking all the air out of the space, that I feel like I can finally breathe. My chest rises and falls, pulling in fast and shallow breaths. I’d tell myself it’s the heat, the nerves about my performance, or even the weight of my guitar, but I’d only be lying. It’s him. It’s always been him, and I’m starting to resent that fact.
“Oh, my God. Please tell me it’s true. You’re gonna sing? Mom said you were, but I didn’t believe her.” Gracie rushes toward me, barreling into me and nearly knocking us both to the ground. She leans back, holding my biceps as she bounces on her feet. “Oh, my God. I’m so excited I could puke!”
My laughter flows free, wiping away the doubt that was rushing through me after my interaction with Grayson. “Gracie, you need to get a hold of yourself. It’s just me.” I pause, looking around as if I need to keep quiet about what I say next. “Besides, people might start to think you’re actually a fan.”
Her face splits into the biggest grin, like I’ve said the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Her happiness is infectious, and I can’t help but return it.
She scrunches up her nose, twisting her mouth to the side as she says, “Then they’d be right. And I’d take great pride in telling them that I got to hear the early tracks way before anyone else. Way before you won those three CMAs.”
She winks at me before throwing an arm around my waist. She takes the guitar case from me and steers me in the direction Grayson went in moments ago. This is what I came home for. The people who loved me and supported me before I was anyone.
