Page 83 of Can’t Say No

“Damn, slow down Wells,” I say with a laugh. “You’re talking so fast I can hardly keep up.”

Wells smirks, the tiny show of emotion equivalent to a full-blown smile.

“She’s a tricky one, but my gut says not to give up on her just yet.” Wells says, before rushing to add, “I mean, give up on tonight. No way in hell she’d miss playing The Valley.”

I bark out another laugh, oddly comforted by how well my friend seems to know Delaney.

“But I don’t think she can stay away for too long. Something about her changed.” Wells shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts on his feet, deep in thought. “She didn’t… I don’t know… she didn’t shine quite so bright when she first got here, but that girl’s been glowing for weeks now.”

Wells is right.

The change in Delaney was undeniable. But it seems to me like that change didn’t quite have enough staying power to make a difference.

Wells gives my shoulder one more squeeze then says, “She’ll be back.”

With that, he disappears back down the gravel drive toward the orchard.

Try as I might, I can’t seem to muster the same steady confidence that Wells has. He wasn’t there, didn’t see how easily Delaney gave up on us. The fight went out in her eyes, utterly defeated. And now this space between us feels insurmountable. Our futures are too different. Our lives meant to cross, but never intertwine.

A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love sure, just not one meant to last a lifetime.

Always a glutton for punishment, I pull up The Valley music fest livestream the second we wrap Fall Fest at the orchard.

She’s halfway through her set by the time I get it playing.

The Delaney on my screen is nearly unrecognizable from the Lanie I’ve spent every waking moment with the past few months. All sparkles and shimmer, she’s stunning. Her show is pretty bare bones, just her band and a few background singers, but it’s far from simple.

God, she’s talented.

Watching her like this, it’s hard to believe I ever thought she’d stay in Ridgecrest. She shines too bright to be contained. And as much as I’d love to keep her just for me, this kind of radiance demands more attention than our small town could offer.

“Now, I hope y’all don’t mind,” Delaney says, her subtly Southern drawl coming through the speakers capturing all my focus. She bends down, unbuckles her heels, and tosses them off stage.

“But I’d like to play something new.”

One of her band members hands her a guitar, and Delaney plops down cross-legged right in the middle of the stage.

“What are you doin’, Lanie?” I ask the screen.

With a devilish look in her eye, she adjusts the instrument and lets out a nervous laugh.

“My management is gonna kill me for this, but while I was home, I started working on some new music. If you hate it, lie to me.”

She winks directly at the camera before strumming the first chord.

Quickly, her drummer picks up the rhythm, laying down a steady beat that sounds vaguely familiar. And when she hits the chorus, I forget how to breathe.

I know exactly what song she’s singing.

“And I’d pick this forever from a field of wildflowers.

Just you and me, under the stars for hours.

A seed we planted long ago, the brightest colors, can’t say no.”

The song she sang in my car after our date.

She’s singing our song.