Page 95 of Can’t Say No

The chip on my shoulder finally cracks and falls away, and something that feels a lot like a fresh start takes root in my heart.

I pull him in for a tight hug, feeling just how fragile he’s become.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Alright, enough mushy stuff. Y’all got papers ready for me to sign? Delaney, you sure you wanna buy me out? Owning land here will put an awful lot of roots down here in Ridgecrest.”

Delaney laughs, the sound warming every part of me.

“Roots in Ridgecrest sounds like a dream come true.”

EPILOGUE

DELANEY

Ten Months Later

Work on the orchard began as soon as Mr. Majors signed the papers to give us full ownership of the land, and very quickly, my little PowerPoint presentation came to life before my eyes. We paved a road out past the farm house to the back of the property, where the main retreat buildings would stand, and we’ve spent every spare minute outside of Ridgecrest High building out my dream.

As things often do, the project has snowballed and taken on a life of its own.

Connor hasn’t said no once.

“You okay back there?” Connor tightens his grip on my thigh as his ATV careens down the road, a steady display of affection I’ve come to crave.

“I’m perfect,” I shout over the din of the engine.

And I mean it, down to my bones.

The slower pace, the privacy, the purpose I’ve found out here, laying down roots here feels like coming home in a way I never thought possible.

I haven’t heard from my dad since our final phone call, and I’ve never felt more free. My mom reached out a few months ago for my birthday and didn’t say a word about him. The sense of duty I once felt has been replaced with a quiet, content pride and confidence in myself, and the guilt of walking away from my career is fading more and more each day.

The main lodge comes into view as our ATV slows down. A rustic building that houses a small recording studio, a few admin offices, and a big open dining and living area, it’s been meticulously planned to maximize collaboration and creativity. Surrounding the lodge are a dozen tiny A-frame cabins, designed and built by Wells.

Eventually, I want to add a swimming pool, map out a nature trail, and maybe build an amphitheater.

But my favorite building is the auditorium. A larger version of the cabins, the A-frame building sits on top of a hill at the very edge of the property. Floor-to-ceiling windows give near-panoramic views of the rolling Tennessee hills. It’s spacious but still intimate, and I’ve spent countless hours this summer sitting in the center, imagining all the music and memories that will be made there.

Despite my abrupt departure from the music scene, word traveled fast, and we’ve already drummed up a good bit of interest among young artists for our first retreat, scheduled for October. I reached out to Molly Jo, hoping that maybe she’d like to come, and her publicist promised to get back to me, but considering our last interaction, I’m not holding my breath.

Connor maneuvers our ride up the hill towards my favorite spot. The evening sun is just starting to dip low on the horizon, painting the A-frame in a golden light.

“You ready?” He says, gently unbuckling and removing my helmet. He sets it down with his, then gestures towards my little oasis. A few of our friends have already gathered near the front steps, a big red ribbon tied across the banisters.

A ribbon cutting ceremony felt a little ridiculous, but Connor insisted.

“This is a big deal,” he said one Saturday morning as we shared our coffee on the back deck. “And we should celebrate it. I promise I won’t go over the top.”

But, as I’ve come to remember, subtle and lowkey aren't exactly words in Connor’s extensive vocabulary, at least when it comes to me. He’s taken every idea I have for the orchard and dialed it up to ten.

I’ve come to remember a lot since being back in Ridgecrest, like how hot a Tennessee July is, how well my hand fits in Connor’s, and how much easier it is to breathe when no one is watching my every move.

Connor leads the way to the top of the stairs, ducking under the ribbon as more of our friends and his family pull up.

Along with the huge ribbon, the banister is adorned with a dozen balloons on either side. Mr. Majors brought apple turnovers, Caroline coordinated catering from Gustoso and Remi even flew out from L.A. The inside of the auditorium is dripping in the best party decor our little Ridgecrest Walmart had to offer.

It’s totally over the top.