“June travels a lot too.” The argument sounded weak. If June had kids, she’d call them every damn day. I didn’t have to witness it to know it. She made sure the people in her life felt special. All the rumors of her being spotted in town over the last several years were because she’d come home for her family. That gossip had been circulating during each of her tours.
“June does stuff with us,” Hannah said.
“Mommy got mad when I touched her camera,” Bethany added.
“You know how protective she is of those.” The dejected way they nodded was a knife straight to my conscience.
I know it’d break your heart if they gave up everything for someone else’s happiness—and then realized it was all for nothing.
I would want to rampage if I realized my kids were miserable in the name of someone else’s happiness.
Had I deluded myself? Was I miserable, and I’d been faking it? I loved my kids. I appreciated everything I had. But there was always the one that got away.
Would I have sold the ranch if I had been with June? Or would I have talked to Wren, persuaded her to sell half, or allow me to make payments no matter how much she fretted over whether I was financially stressing myself?
If I had taken June’s hand at my father’s funeral and told her that I’d join her as soon as I hired a ranch manager, would I be in Nashville now? Would we have had kids that would’ve already celebrated her headline world tour?
If I had been with June for either of those, I wouldn’t have missed out on it all.
My chest grew tight. All the what-ifs flooded my mind. Overwhelming, but also—a relief. All those questions I’d been afraid to ask, that I’d ignored, were let loose.
The anxiety was fighting to return. I might’ve gone to Nashville, the new ranch hire might’ve run my dad’s life’s work into the ground and cost Wren any chance of retirement—thanks to me.
Kirstin could’ve walked out of the girls’ life forever.
But . . .
June could’ve hit her milestones sooner. If only I hadn’t gotten out of the way.
Fuck me.
“Let’s go to the house and make some cookies while we talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
June
People milled around me. I was in the middle of a stage on a small amphitheater where kids put on plays and local organizations put on shows for parties and other events. The first summer after my sisters and I had come to live with the Baileys, Mama and Daddy had taken us to see a band from Butte. It was where I’d confessed to Mama I wanted to be a singer. I’d told her that I used to sing on empty stages like this at the campgrounds we stayed at with my parents before they died. Mama Starr would help me imagine a crowd full of people coming to watch.
Today, I had no band. The performance was me on a stool with my favorite guitar. Wilna had managed to secure a microphone and speakers. I was singing a new song I had written last night, one that wouldn’t be on the album.
It was about a girl who walked away from the onlyguy she’d ever dreamed of. A girl who realized her worth, but was still heartbroken over the guy who didn’t realize it in himself. I’d titled it “Get Out of Your Way.”
A teen girl in the front row dabbed her eyes.
The song could be a hit, but it was too personal. I would sing it today, as a goodbye. To my town. To my family. To Rhys.
Wren was on a picnic table several yards from the stage. I’d been playing for hours. I’d sing, then talk with people and sign autographs. Then I’d sing again. Repeat.
I was tired, and I probably shouldn’t drive after a long day like this, but I couldn’t pass the turnoff to Rhys’s place one more time. I couldn’t be so close to him and know that he hadn’t chosen me again.
I’d been looking for him all day, hoping that just like the Grand Ole Opry, he’d be hiding in the crowd. But just like that day, I’d seen my brothers and sisters and their spouses. Mama. Lane and Cruz. But no Rhys.
I let the last note for the song fade away before resting my hand across the strings of the guitar. “Thank you, everyone.” My voice carried across the park. “Thank you so much for coming and listening to me and for your generous donations. The community of Bourbon Canyon thanks you, and I thank you. This town and everyone in it is special to me.”
One man and two little kids more than others.
Kids laughed on the playground on the opposite end of the park. Families had come and gone, packed picnic materials or donated even more money to eat the hot dogs and chips that the grocery store had provided. Wilna had lockboxes set all over the park, darn near by every tree, for collections.
