Page 40 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Dex wipes his hands on his jeans before offering one. “Nice to finally meet the muse.”

I blink. “The what?”

Jack coughs loudly. “All right, let’s get to work.”

Dex grins, clearly amused, as he turns back to the board. Jack leads me to a plush couch against the wall where I can sit and watch.

“I’ll be in the booth,” Jack says.

I nod, completely in awe that all of this is real. Jack picks up his old guitar. “You still have it,” I say.

He laughs. “Much to the irritation of Dex and everyone else. I don’t get to use it when we record, but I need it to warm up.”

“It’s his security blanket,” Dex says. “He’s got his choice of the best guitars and that old thing is what he chooses.”

His guitar is an extension of him. I get it. I understand why he needs it. These guys are used to all the glitz and glamor and don’t understand what good, raw music is.

Jack goes into the booth and puts on a pair of headphones. He starts to play a melody on the guitar. Dex adjusts knobs on the board, nodding along to the beat. I watch Jack’s fingers move effortlessly over the strings. This is the Jack I know—the one who loses himself in the music, who doesn’t need a stage or an audience to shine.

Cora returns with a tray holding an iced coffee for Jack and a Diet Coke for me. She sets it down on the table in front of me with a smile that doesn’t quite feel honest. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my stomach twists. She lingers for a moment longer than necessary, glancing at Jack before finally leaving.

As they dive into the session, I sip my Diet Coke and try to relax. I love watching him play. I would prefer it being just me and him sitting on the porch, but I have a feeling those days are long gone. I’m happy for his success, but there is a selfish part of me that wishes Liz never saw him in Aggie’s bar. She took him away. Yes, he’s living like a king here and this is everything he wants, but the light in his eyes seems to be just a little dimmer.

His head dips slightly as he starts to play. He closes his eyes and begins to sway. It’s a song I don’t recognize, something new, and though I can’t hear the full richness of it yet, I know it’s going to be good. It’s always good when Jack plays.

Dex is at the board, his fingers dancing over knobs and sliders, adjusting levels I don’t understand. Every now and then, he nods to himself or mutters something into the mic that only Jack can hear through his headphones.

But I don’t watch Dex. I only watch Jack.

He leans into the microphone, his lips brushing close to it as he starts to hum. The sound is low and gravelly, rough around the edges in that way that makes my stomach flip. He’s not singing words yet—just feeling out the melody, letting it build in his chest before it spills out. I watch as he finds the rhythm. I know it when he’s got it.

This is the Jack I remember. I smile watching him sing. Dex holds up a hand, indicating Jack should stop. He makes another gesture and Jack starts over. That continues for an hour. The same song, over and over. I don’t mind watching him sing, but I can see he’s getting tired.

Thankfully, Dex calls for a break.

Jack comes out and flops onto the couch beside me, sweaty and grinning. “What’d you think?”

I pluck at his t-shirt—black, worn thin, definitely not designer. “You sounded like you.”

His smile softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a new song. I’ve been working on it for a couple of weeks. It’s not quite what I want. The label is pushing me hard to get another album in the works.”

“Do you like the song?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Yes and no. Got any suggestions?”

I smile. “I think you’ve got an expert to give you suggestions.”

He leans over and gives me a kiss. “But yours is the only opinion I want to hear.”

Dex clears his throat from the doorway. “As touching as this is, we’ve got one more track to lay down, lover boy.”

Jack groans but stands, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Stick around?”