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That has been my go-to solution when I’ve gotten into trouble in the past.

“Not this time. A fancy Turks and Caicos vacation isn’t going to do the trick. You need to look contrite. You need to remind people that you are one of them. A country boy who loves his family and is apologetic for the mistakes he’s made,” Aaron explains.

“This wasn’t my mistake. This was a woman lying,” I press.

“But you were the one who hit that guy and broke his nose, and you are the one who got a DUI,” Pierce points out.

“All because of the lies of a woman I can barely remember.”

“Nobody cares why you did it. Not your fans and certainly not the label. I already contacted Sara-Beth, and she is expecting you,” Pierce commands.

I bang my head against the back of the seat.

The last thing I want is to see the disappointment in my mother’s eyes when I show up on her front porch. It’s the worst part of this life I live, having to constantly call her and tell her when something she sees on the news or in the tabloids isn’t true—or worse, that it is true.

“Fine. I’ll go home,” I relent.

“Good. I already have our lawyers working on getting you out of the DUI. You’ll probably get probation and might have to do some classes when you get back to Nashville,” Pierce explains.

“Classes? It was my first offense. Can’t you just make it go away?” I ask.

“Your blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit, Garrett. That’s not something I can just sweep under the rug. Especially being that your erratic driving was caught on video and you were hostile with the police,” Aaron informs.

“I was driving erratically because I was being chased by fans with cameras or photographers, I’m not sure which. And I wasn’t hostile toward the police. I was hostile with the people who were filming us.”

“Yeah, well, it came off as hostile with the cops because you weren’t complying, and the law doesn’t care why you were driving recklessly. Fuck, Garrett, do you have any idea how this all looks?”

“I know. It’s bad.”

“No, it’s not bad. It’s catastrophic, and I don’t give two shits whether you like it or not. The damage has been done, and now, you’re going to have to cool your heels in Balsam Ridge and stay out of trouble while we do our jobs. And you will do whatever is necessary to look repentant. Including alcohol management classes or driving classes. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Now that that’s settled, we’re here. Let’s get this blood test done and get you on your way.”

We pull up to the back of the facility to avoid any prying eyes, and the three of us enter the back door, where a doctor is waiting to draw blood. It takes only a few minutes, and we are back in the limo and on our way to pick up the rental that I’ll use to drive myself from here to Balsam Ridge.

As I navigate the back roads headed out of Knoxville, I feel free for the first time in forever.

I spend most of the two-hour drive trying not to think about the mess my life is in at the moment. I pay a team of people very well to do all the worrying for me, so why should I?

I’m rarely alone with my own thoughts, and I never get the chance to just turn up the radio and hit the open road. It used to be my escape. I’d climb into the old truck that had been passed down to me from my brother Graham, and I’d throw a Waylon Jennings cassette tape in the player, roll down the windows, and just drive for hours to clear my head. Now, I have people driving me around, and there is never time to clear anything.

I take a slight detour onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and get lost in the beauty. The light mist that is settling over the mountaintops brings back a flood of memories. I remember sitting on my pop’s knee and him explaining that the native Cherokee people used to call the mountain range Shaconage, which translates to the place of blue smoke. That smoke is actually a blue-hued fog of oxygen and organic compounds that rise from the rich vegetation on the mountains and in valleys and always seems to hover over the peaks. English settlers began to call them the Smoky Mountains, and that led to them being known as the Great Smoky Mountains because of their size.

I’ve been around the world and seen some amazing places, but nothing compares to their beauty and grandeur.

I exit the parkway before I hit the Virginia line and make my way back toward my destination.

When I reach the town limit of Balsam Ridge, I’m met with the aroma of fall in the mountains. The smell of sun-soaked gravel roads, of smoke from the passing homes’ chimneys, of fallen leaves blowing from the trees.

Home. It smells like home.

I look at the clock on the dash and see that it’s nearing midnight. I don’t want to roll up on my parents at this hour, so I head toward my brother Weston’s place. He owns a cannabis farm that borders the river, where he had several boat docks built. Each dock has a small, rustic studio apartment above it with a futon that pulls into a full-size bed, a toilet, a sink, and a mini fridge. He calls them the Man Caves. Men rent the spots to store their boats and spend a weekend fishing on the river. It’s like camping but with a real bed and running water.

I rent one of them year-round. I’ve rarely slept there, and it’s honestly just a place to keep my boat stored. Work hasn’t afforded me time to use the boat or the cave in years, but it will do as a place to lay my head for the night.

It takes a couple of guesses, but I finally get the right code punched into the door. The place is dark and dusty, but the electricity works when I flip the light switch. I toss my bag onto the floor and walk over to the sink in the corner. I splash my face with water and take a look in the mirror.

You jackass.

My stomach grumbles, so I grab a towel from the rack, quickly dry my face, walk to the kitchenette and I open the fridge, knowing that it’s empty. I contemplate going back into town to scrounge for food, but the only option at this hour would be the all-night mini-mart for a pack of peanuts or chips.

You’re not in Nashville anymore, I tell myself.

Instead, I strip my clothes off and lower the futon before crawling onto the lumpy mattress for a fitful night’s sleep.

I’ll face the world and my family tomorrow.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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