“I don’t know. Car started making it a little while back.” About the same time theCheck Enginelight came on to be exact. Nate would deal with it later. “But you do think he lives out here?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the address he gave me a while back when I needed to forward some mail. Why don’t you try calling him?”
Nate had. Multiple times. Without a response.
Now, pulling into a paved driveway nestled in a copse of trees, guilt punched Nate in the gut for all the times the reverse had been true. How many times had he ignored his dad’s texts? Voicemails? Cards?
He squeezed the steering wheel, staring at an A-frame log cabin that somehow looked both rustic and super expensive. In one of the messages his dad mentioned something about installing his own recordingstudio. Was he recording an album now? A white truck and a red SUV were parked close to the house.
Maybe he should leave.
Perfect love casts out fear, Nate. You have a big heart. One that loves big. Stop reining it in. Stop being afraid to share that love with others—even when they don’t deserve it. Especially when they don’t deserve it.
Of course the words from his mentor’s letter demanded to ride shotgun with him the entire drive from the B&B to here. Wherever here was.
Nate still wasn’t sure how this hidden remote area sat tucked outside of Nashville. But he did know one thing— he wasn’t here for reconciliation, no matter how badly his mentor would’ve wanted that for Nate if he were still around.
“Sorry, old friend. That’s not what this is about.” If Nate’s back wasn’t against the wall, he wouldn’t be here at all.
A woodpecker hammered somewhere above as Nate climbed out of his vehicle. A couple of squirrels nattered, chasing each other from one tree branch to another. As much as Nate wanted to slide back into his seat, turn his car around, and blast music loud enough to drown out his mentor’s message, he knew he couldn’t leave. Not without trying.
And yet he couldn’t seem to move his feet more than two steps forward either.
He stood another full minute next to his car, not sure whether to hope his dad was home or that he never heard from him again. Never hearing from him again would probably hurt less than getting turned down.
Another minute passed.
Followed by another minute.
Several more would’ve followed if the front door didn’t swing open. A tall slender man with more salt than pepper in his hair stepped out onto the small porch. Nate didn’t need an introduction. The guy looked too much like himself to not be his father.
“I need a favor,” Nate said, figuring it was best to get straight to the point. “Would’ve preferred doing this over the phone, but...”
His dad stood motionless and staring, like everything Nate said was on a five-second delay before reaching his ears. Once he seemed to process Nate’s words, he started patting his chest, then his back pocket. “Did you try calling? Sorry. My phone’s off. We’re recording an album.”
Nate took a step back. He shouldn’t have come. His dad rubbed elbows with some of country music’s biggest stars. Why would he ever want to waste a minute on a guy like Nate?
Because you’re his son.
Nate shook off the thought and took another step back. Yeah, well, being his son hadn’t been much of a lure twenty-some years ago. Nate had a hard time seeing how it mattered now.
“You need money?”
“What?” Nate jerked open his car door and shot his dad a look. How dare he suggest the only reason Nate would show up out of the blue had something to do with money. Even if that’s pretty much the entire reason why Nate had shown up out of the blue. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
A wild turkey strutted around the corner of the house. Nate stared at the turkey. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s you being honest. Why don’t you just say it?”
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is you came here to say.”
What had he come here to say? For a moment Nate couldn’t remember. Until McKenna’s bright blue-green eyes flashed in his mind and a love so fierce and powerful punched his chest harder than if he’d been kicked by a horse. “You should pay for mom’s emu,” Nate blurted.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly what he’d come here to say, but it was a start.
