Why did it never cross my mind that returning home would mean seeing him again? A mix of panic and uncertainty swirls in my gut. Was it a mistake to come back? This is his town much more than it is mine, because he never left, despite how much I begged him to that night.
Now, here I am, driving home to “find myself,” but the truth is, I think I’m far too lost to ever be found. For years, I’ve been hustling to make a name for myself, singing in bars and going from door to door of record labels.
I thought when I “made it,” it’d be easier, but now my days are filled with recording music, interviews, meeting with label executives, and endless touring. There hasn’t been a second for me to breathe, and so I’ve come back to the only place that’s ever felt real, hoping like hell it will give me back my love for music. It’s the only thing I have left of who I used to be. There isn’t a hot country singer waiting for me back in Nashville, or friends who understand my struggle. Nothing is waiting for me, so I’m returning to a town that doesn’t know the woman I am, to find the girl I’ve lost.
But what if everything is different now?
I’m going on my first ever headline tour in nine weeks’ time, every city show is sold out, and I’ll have to put on a smile like I didn’t hit a creative wall months ago. What’s worse is that I have to come up with two new songs, and they just aren’t coming. The excitement is gone, and every time I step in the recording booth or on stage, I feel like a fraud.
I know that Coldwater won’t be the same as it was twelve years ago, not at its core. And neither will he. I ignore the unwanted thought. Grayson isn’t why I’m here. I’m back in town for me. There’s got to be something that will help, something that will give me back the love I had for music, because I don’t know what will happen if I can’t find it. My entire career is hinging on figuring this out.
About two-thirds of the way down Main Street, I spot the coffee shop Mama can’t stop talking about: Chapters and Crumbs. Autumn Wilde, Grayson’s cousin, owns it, and I make a mental note to pop in once I’m settled. Trying to hide from everything even remotely connected to him is only going to make for a lonely visit. Besides, Autumn was my friend long before Grayson and I started dating, and I’ve missed her.
Turning off Main Street, I follow the familiar route to my parents’ house and my childhood home. Within ten minutes, I’m pulling into the driveway of the Craftsman bungalow my parents have lived in since they got married, well over forty years ago.
I smooth a hand over the wrinkled hem of my light pink sundress before I kill the engine, staring up at the weather-worn paintwork. Like typical stubborn parents, Daisy and Luke Blake refused my offer of buying them a new place, somewhere with some land for them to own. They said they were happy in the house they’d raised me in and that with me being gone, there wasn’t any need for more space.
My phone pings, alerting me to a new text. Penelope’s name appears, and I sigh heavily before opening the text chain. As much as I would love to put my phone on do not disturb and ignore her, she’s my manager, so I don’t really have a choice.
Penelope
Hey, just wanted to make sure you arrived safely. Don’t forget you’ve only got three weeks, and then we need you back here with those final two songs.
I rub my eye, a dull throb making itself known. This is exactly what I came here to get away from.
Avery
I’ve just pulled up. I’m going to spend some time with my family, and then I’ll be getting to work on the songs.
It’s a lie, and one that feels all too familiar. I can’t tell Penelope that the creativity just isn’t there; she wouldn’t understand. She thinks I’ve come back to Coldwater for a well-deserved break, although she wouldn’t put it in those exact words herself.
The creak of the front door swinging open pulls my focus away from my phone, and I watch as Mama flies through it, racing down the steps with a huge grin on her face. I can’t help but mirror her joy, happiness crashing into me like a welcome wave. From inside the car, I can hear the screen door slamming closed behind her—it’s always been a little too loud. My dad appears at the top of the steps, his face in a mock scowl as he mutters something to himself, brushing specks of dust off his T-shirt. He must have been in his workshop.
My mom has the car door open, the heat from outside hitting me in the face, before her arms band around me. I don’t even have time to undo my seat belt. Her familiar floral scent envelops me, and I close my eyes, squeezing her a little tighter. God, I’ve missed her.
“Come on, Daisy, give the girl a chance to get out of the car,” my dad admonishes, but there’s a teasing note in his voice that tells me he just wants to have his turn.
Stepping back, Mama cups my face, staring at me through glassy eyes as her thumbs brush over the apples of my cheeks. I smile up at her, noting the signs of time that grace her face. I should have come home sooner.
“Don’t,” she warns, a brow lifting. She could always tell what I was thinking.
Just like Grayson.
Jeez, why is he on my mind so much today? It’s got to be because I’m back in town. He’s here somewhere, and my heart and mind know that. Well, they’ll have to get over him. I have bigger things to worry about than whether or not he’s forgiven me.
Mama steps back, and I climb from the car, pulling her into a hug before outstretching my arm and including my dad too. “I’ve missed you both.” I pause, my entire body relaxing into their embrace.
Leaning back, I stare at them both, a genuine smile pulling at my mouth for the first time in too long. It’s good to be home.
Wiping at her eyes, Mama squeezes my waist with her other arm before guiding me back to the house. “Dad’ll bring in your things, honey. I made your favorite huckleberry pie, and I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.”
I chuckle, resting my head on her shoulder as we walk up the front porch steps. “I call you every week and update you. There’s nothing I’ve done that you don’t know about.”
“I don’t know why you’re home,” she says softly. It’s not an accusation, just a curious statement. She takes my hand, pulling away from me to look in my eyes.
Emotions flood me: failure, fear, and relief that she knows me so well. That I have her to lean on. “I—I—” I choke out, moisture pooling in my eyes as a lump forms in my throat.
Without a second thought, she pulls me into her arms, holding me on the front porch, as she tells me everything a mother should, without saying a single word. She’s here for me whenever I’m ready to talk about it. Whenever I figure it out.
