Page 6 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection!” The words echo in her small house. “I need support. I need you to believe in me.”

“I do believe in you.”

I don’t know why I’m upset. I was having the same reservations. But I really thought she would encourage me to take the chance. She was supposed to be the one to tell me it was all going to be okay. That she and I would be just fine. That we could work out some kind of arrangement to see each other. Once I made money, I could bring her to Memphis.

But she’s not saying any of that.

“I’m saying what if this isn’t legitimate? What if she’s not who she says she is?” Jinnie stands now, her posture defensive. “Did you even google her? Call the label? Anything?”

“You think I’m being played?” I feel my face getting hot. “You think I’m not good enough to get noticed?”

“That is not what I said.” Her voice is steady, controlled, which somehow makes it worse. “You’re putting words in my mouth because you don’t want to hear what I’m actually saying.”

I grab my keys from the coffee table. “I need some air.”

“Jack, don’t walk out. Not like this.”

But I’m already moving toward the door, unable to look at her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Wait—”

I walk back through the trees, barely seeing anything. I know the path well. How did we get here? One minute we were painting a ridiculous orange shed, laughing and kissing, and the next we’re at each other’s throats.

She’s hurt. Angry. I’m hurt and angry and scared. That’s a bad combination. I’m glad Aggie’s not home. She’d have a lot of questions about why I’m back. And I didn’t have the answers. None she was going to be interested in hearing. Oddly enough, I know Aggie is going to be happy for me. She’s going to encourage me to chase my dream. Is that why I’m not telling her?

I sit on my bed and stare at my guitar in the corner. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel lost. Alone. I miss my family. I miss being told what to do. And that’s not something I ever thought I would be sad about. I want someone to take the choice out of my hands. That way I’m not responsible for whatever fallout might happen.

But that’s not the adult thing to do. I’m a grown man and I have to make the hard decisions.

I pick up my phone, check the time, and hope Michael isn’t in bed.

Michael answers on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“Is that our wayward little brother?” I hear Caleb ask.

I’m glad they’re together. I want them both to hear. I need their opinions. Although, I’m probably going to regret asking.

“Put me on speaker. Caleb needs to hear this too.”

“What’s going on?” Michael asks. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. I, uh, well, I got an offer.”

“An offer for what?”

“A recording contract.” I spit the words out like they’re burning my tongue. “This lady wants to sign me. I’ve got to go to Memphis to do it.”

Silence.

“Who?” Michael asks.

“Bullshit,” Caleb snorts.

“I’m serious. She saw me play a couple of nights. Said my sound is ‘raw and marketable.’”

“Raw and marketable,” Michael repeats flatly. “Jack—”