More lyrics poured into my head. “I have the chorus,” I muttered as I scribbled. I hummed a tune and repeated the notes on the guitar. “Yes, that’s it.”
Damn that kiss.
Ever since Rhys had trampled over my heart by telling me I was a threat to his kids’ privacy, I’d been filled with inspiration.
I had a third song about star-crossed lovers. They were never in the right place at the right time.
And a fourth about a girl who thinks the guy finally sees her, only to find out that he does and it was exactly why he was walking away.
That was two more songs in a week. A little collaboration with Remi and they’d be ready to record. At this rate, I’d be done with time to spare. Now I was working on a fifth song. This one about a girl returning to her roots to find the one she’d leftbehind—herself.
My music came from me. I liked to write from the heart. I processed emotions through songwriting, but this one was hitting close to home. Yet I couldn’t stop working on it.
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. “She sees herself again in his eyes...” I stopped strumming and sighed. Of course, the man had to show up in this song too. But that was a killer lyric.
I wrote it down for later and turned the page. I could write one song that wasn’t about heartbreak or rekindling romance, dammit. Sure, those songs spoke to me, and they were still at my center, but I’d also changed. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a heartbroken June Kerrigan. I saw a girl who’d kept going thanks to hope. She’d hoped to do her mamas proud. She’d hoped to show her family how much their support meant. She’d hoped the love of her life would come around. But when he hadn’t, she’d continued on. To be the hope for others in her place.
I scribbled down ideas and lyrics. The song might be a standout on the album, or it might not be included at all, but I’d write it. For me.
My phone rang again. I didn’t know the number, but it was local. I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a second before answering. “Hi, this is Junie.”
“Oh, Junie.” An older woman’s voice cracked on the end of the line. “This is Wilna, from the church.”
Bourbon Canyon had four churches and even more bars, but we all knew which one Wilna meant. She was a living legend in town. Well into her golden years, she still ran the bachelor auction fundraiser and bingo nights, and to be honest, she ran the church too. “Hi, Wilna. How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know. Listen, we’re not holding the auction this year.”
“Oh?” The fundraiser had been responsible for getting Tate and Scarlett together. It’d been a Bourbon Canyon staple for at least ten years.
“Unless you can talk Tenor or Teller into putting themselves up, we’re seeing diminishing returns.” She paused like she was waiting for me to say I’d have my brothers signed up by the end of the day.
Teller would not agree to it. Ever. Tenor would die of mortification if he was ever on the auction block. His skin would catch fire from his blush burning too hot.
“So,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice, “I was thinking of trying something else this year, maybe give it a break for a year or two and see if it rebounds. And then I heard you were in town.”
Dread churned in my belly.
“It’d be small,” she rushed on like she sensed my hesitation. “I thought we could sell seats for a certain number of supporters. You’d have final say, of course.”
No, my manager usually would. There’d be negotiations and contracts. I was managerless for the near future but there were plenty of people on my team who’d have opinions about an impromptu performance, and they’d all want their cut.
“If you need to think about it, that’s just fine,” Wilna continued. “And if you don’t want to, don’t worry. I understand. You’re a good kid and you’re so busy. I’m sure so many people are demanding your time.”
There had to be another way to help without involving my team and risking word getting out that I was having management issues before an album releaseand tour. I liked to play music, and I loved watching people listen to it. I adored being heard.
What if that was all it was? “What day is the fundraiser?”
“I was thinking of doing it at the end of June this year.”
Crap, maybe this wouldn’t work. “I have to return to Nashville at the end of June. I leave on the twenty-eighth.”
“The twenty-seventh is a Saturday. A perfect day for a gathering. We can do it in the afternoon.”
I didn’t have a lot to pack. I just had to drive to Nashville. Alone. “I’ll be honest, Wilna, I’m not sure what my team would allow, and I don’t want to drag you through negotiations for something that’s supposed to raise money.” I couldn’t let red tape stop me. I hadn’t come this far only to fail at helping Wilna for a simple fundraiser. “What about if I just happen to be playing in the park that day?”
“Oh... I’m picking up what you’re putting down. Yes, we can reserve a shelter at the park, have a bunch of goodies and food and do a freewill donation.”
“I don’t know if it’ll bring in what the bachelor auction would?—”
