Home.
My heart swelled as I shut the door. It took nearly half my life, but I finally had somewhere I belonged.
It didn’t matter if it was the hobbit house or if I ended up having to find someplace else. While I loved that little cottage in Leipers Fork, it wasn’t the building that made it home. It was the people—my people. And I’d carry them with me for the rest of my life, no matter where I ended up.
Grace arrivedat the hobbit house late Tuesday afternoon with her binder clutched in her hands. The second I opened the door, she flung her arms around me, squeezing me like she thought she might never get the chance to hug me again.
“It’s good to see you,” she said when she finally pulled away.
“I’m sorry I scared you like that.” I stepped aside, allowing her to enter.
“What matters is that you’re here now.”
I led her to the living room where my guitar was still propped against the sofa. Randy McNutt was perched on the coffee table beside my open notebook, where he’d kept me company while I’d put my feelings to music earlier that day.
“So, how are you doing?” Grace took a seat in the armchair across from where I sat on the couch.
“It’s a day to day thing,” I answered. “Minute to minute, really. I’ve avoided looking at social media, the internet, anything that could send me backward right now.”
“That’s good,” she said. “You’ve got to protect your peace somehow. I’ve been keeping track of what’s coming out, and I’ll only tell you what you need to know.”
“How bad has it been?” I asked, crossing one leg over the other.
She shrugged. “Mostly people sharing the same stories over and over again. Like the one about that Tate McCreedy asshat. There’s not been a lot of new stuff coming out. You kept a low profile for a while. Nobody was able to photograph you for months, so most of what’s out there is old news. That’s gonna be in your favor with the press when you decide to move forward.Ifyou decide to move forward.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said.
“I figured that’s why I’m here.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “How are you feeling about everything? Do you know what you want to do?”
I gave a wry chuckle. “It depends on the time of day. Part of me wants to shelve the record altogether and disappear from the limelight for good.”
“I don’t blame you one bit, and I don’t think there’s a wrong choice here. There’s certainly not an easy one.”
“No, there isn’t,” I said. “But I think what I want to do and what Ineedto do are two different things.”
“How so?” she asked.
“My gut instinct is to run.” I leaned back, propping my arm across the back of the cushion. “To kill the album, the tour, my public image. To let people think what they want, while I fade away into the news cycle until people eventually forget my name. But I’m tired of running, Grace. That’s all I’ve ever done.”
“Does that mean you’re considering putting the record out?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” I ran my hand along the back of my neck. “I’m scared out of my mind, and I might live to regret it. But IknowI’ll regret it if I don’t take this chance on myself. I’ll always wonder what I could have done if I’d been brave enough to try.”
She smiled. “Well, you know I’ll be by your side every step of the way. What can I do to help?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I want to know what you think I should do, what our next move should be.”
“What if we find a way to get your side of things out there? Give people the chance to get to know you.”
“How?”
“An in-depth interview,” she replied.
“Hmm,” I said, my finger rubbing along my jaw. “Where? Something likeRolling Stone?”
She shook her head. “I’m thinking more like television.”
“Maybe Jo would be willing to do it?” I suggested. She was our television connection, not to mention, her father was a legend in journalism.
