“Why don’t I come on your bus tomorrow after we get you fitted for the molds? I’ll bring some of my setup, see if we can’t get you more comfortable.”
I feel my spine relax.
“That would be helpful. Thanks, Patty.”
“I told you, it’s Patrick.”
A smile teases my lips.
It’s a relief to step back from the heightened emotions and vulnerability and return to our norm—staring contests and playing chicken.
“Is it, though?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve been talking to Ash.”
“Have I?”
He chuckles and goes for a second slice of pie while I join my friends.
But when I glance back at him, it’s to catch him looking at me.
I can’t be certain, but I think I won this round.
CHAPTER NINE
PATTY
On Friday morning, the crew and band all take off for Charleston to start setting up while I wait for Lou to do a local radio interview. She tells me I can stay on the bus, but it’s just her and Manny, no security in sight. I like Manny, but he tips the scales at five-seven and maybe a hundred forty pounds.
I decide to stick around.
The radio station has two security guards, so I stand down in the lobby and wait for Lou to come out. While I wait, I check the scores from Sean’s game last night. The Mullet Ridge Blue Collars shut out the Savannah Gators, and Sean had twenty-nine saves. I’m impressed, as always, but I feel sick, too. He should be playing in front of packed barns five times the size of the Ridgeyard Ice Plex.
If I could do it over, I’d choose my family.
Course, I’m here now. Am I really choosing them or me?
I give myself a shake. I’m choosing them. I’m here to make things right for my family, not for me. My jaw clenches, and I drag a hand over my beard, exhaling hard. I shove my phone in my back pocket, as if putting it away will shut down my thoughts.
“Thank you for comin’ out, Ms. Williams,” a beefy talking head says as he escorts Lou out to the lobby.
“My pleasure,” she beams, giving the man a hug before they part.
I stand up, and if I had a hat on, I might hold it over my heart.
Lou’s wearing a pair of loose jeans with riding boots and a thin black T-shirt that reads, “You be Johnny, I’ll be June.” I like it more than I should, tucked into her jeans, showing off a big ol’ buckle. Her light blonde hair is loose in waves around her shoulders, and she has a deep red gloss on her heart-shaped lips.
If I were to design the perfect woman …
Not that I’m designing her. Or thinking about it.
“How’d it go?” Manny asks, looking up from his phone to stand. The three of us walk out to the street, where a black town car is waiting to take Lou to the audiologist.
“Real well,” she says. “I hope they’re all like that.”
“They won’t be,” Manny and I say at the same time.
Manny gives me a wry chuckle as he climbs into the front passenger seat.
