Page 16 of Echoes of a Southern Song

“Nope. But I wouldn’t mind if you could take a look at that fan in the greenhouse. It was working and now it’s not.”

“I will.” I nod.

“Go wash up and breakfast will be ready.”

I head to the bathroom, splashing water on my face and running a hand through my hair. The coolness of the water helps shake off the lingering haze of Jinnie’s bed and the too-early morning. When I come back out, Aggie’s setting two plates on the table—bacon, eggs, and toast. My stomach growls at the sight.

“Thanks,” I say, sliding into a chair. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Figured you’d need it,” she says lightly, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She eyes me over the rim of her mug as she sits down. “Long night?”

I glance up at her, my fork hovering over my plate. There’s no judgment in her tone, just curiosity. Still, I’m not sure how much to say. “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

She nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “Jinnie okay?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly, shoving a bite of eggs into my mouth to buy myself time. “She had an early shift at the bakery.”

Aggie hums, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s piecing something together. “You two seem to be getting along well.”

I offer a half-smile. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

She chuckles. “Good answer. How is she?”

“Good. She needs a strong, solid man beside her. The boys around here don’t see her beauty. They don’t see her potential. I think you do.”

“Why?” I ask. “I mean, why me?”

Aggie sets her coffee mug down, her sharp eyes studying me for a moment before she speaks. “Because you’re different, Jack. You’re not like the other boys around here. You’ve got dreams that stretch beyond this town, and I think Jinnie needs someone who understands what that feels like. Someone who won’t try to clip her wings just because they’re scared of where she might fly.”

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth. Aggie nailed it. Jinnie and I both have stars in our eyes. “You think she wants to leave?”

“Not necessarily,” Aggie says with a shrug. “But she’s always been restless. She’s got a fire in her, just like you do. And sometimes, fire needs room to breathe.”

I nod slowly, chewing on her words along with the last bite of toast. It makes sense. I know Jinnie says she wants to go to the city and pursue marketing. I get it. But at the same time, there’s something about her that feels rooted here, too. Like this place is part of her in a way she can’t—or won’t—let go of.

I shovel food into my mouth. There’s so much I want to ask her. I would love to pick her brain about Sam, about whether Jinnie’s ever brought someone home before, about what happens if this annulment goes south. But it’s not my place. Aggie has no idea there was even a marriage. I can’t reveal the secret Jinnie’s been keeping.

Aggie watches me over her coffee cup. “You’re thinking loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Just tired.”

“Mm-hmm.” She doesn’t push, just refills my coffee. “You playing tonight?”

“Can I?” I ask.

She chuckles. “Absolutely. We had a few people ask about you last night. I reminded them you’re a human, not a machine. If you sing your heart out every night, you’re going to fry your voice before the rest of the world gets to hear it.”

“I am trying to do a better job taking care of it,” I tell her.

“Good.”

“I’m going to play that new ballad.”

“The one about Jinnie?”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “How did you—”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.”