Page 2 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

“Thank you,” I murmur. I’m not really all that hungry. I feel like an asshole for not already telling Aggie and Jinnie about Liz.

Aggie plops down across from me, her own plate piled high. She’s always had an appetite that doesn’t match her small frame. Something about a “hummingbird metabolism,” she once told me.

“You know that shed’s been an eyesore since before you moved in. Can’t believe we’re finally getting around to it. I was thinking about demolishing it, but I think a little paint and we might be able to save it.”

I push my eggs around the plate. “Yeah, long overdue.”

I take a bite of toast to avoid responding. The thought of Jinnie just makes the decision harder. Memphis is an eight-hour drive. Tours are months long. Studio time means relocating. I don’t know how or when I would ever get to see her.

“You’re a million miles away this morning.” Aggie’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Just tired.”

She nods but says nothing. And I sit there and feel like the worst person on the planet for keeping things from her.

I’m halfway through forcing down my breakfast when there’s a quick knock on the door.

“It’s open!” Aggie calls out before I can even move.

The door swings open, and there she is, all sunshine and energy. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few wavy strands framing her face. She’s wearing a faded tank top with cutoff jean shorts, and somehow she still looks like she belongs on a magazine cover.

“Morning, everybody!” Jinnie says with a cheerful smile. She’s carrying a tray with three iced coffees, condensation dripping down the sides. “I figured we could use the extra caffeine for painting day.”

“You’re an angel,” Aggie says, grabbing one of the cups.

Jinnie sets the tray down and slides into the chair next to mine, her knee brushing against my leg under the table. “Hey, rockstar,” she says, nudging my shoulder with hers. “You were incredible last night. I think half the town is still talking about your show.”

“Thanks,” I manage. I take a sip of the iced coffee she brought, grateful for the distraction. “This is good.”

“Secret recipe.” She winks. “Actually, it’s just extra caramel and a splash of vanilla, but don’t tell anyone.”

Aggie watches us with that knowing look she gets sometimes. “Well, I’m going to get the paint cans set up. You two finish your breakfast and meet me out there.” She stands, taking her coffee with her. “And Jack, eat something. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

When the screen door slams behind her, Jinnie turns to face me fully. “You okay? You seem... off.”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Just tired.”

“Okay,” she says.

We finish eating and go outside to find Aggie, hands on her hips as she stares at the old shed. It’s tucked into the trees and could easily be ignored if it wasn’t so ugly.

Jinnie pops open one of the cans. Bright. Neon. Orange.

“Uh, that’s bold,” I murmur.

Jinnie looks at the paint and grabs a stick to stir it. “That’s... orange.”

Aggie squints at it. “Wait. That’s not Cedarwood Sunset. That’s—what in the world did I buy?”

Jinnie snorts. “Looks like a traffic cone.”

I dip a brush in it, swipe a streak across the shed’s faded wood, and step back. “You’ll never lose your shed,” I tease.

Aggie sighs. “We’re committed now. Just paint fast before I change my mind.”

We spend the morning slathering coat after coat of bright orange across the entire building. At some point, I stop noticing how loud the color is. Maybe because I’ve been blinded by it.

Jinnie gets more paint on herself than the shed, including a whole streak across her neck when she brushes her hair back with the brush in her hand. I try not to laugh. I fail. She retaliates by flicking paint at me.