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“No good? Are you insane?”
“Yes,” Gavin and Luke answered in tandem.
“I can’t let you do that, man,” Will stated.
“It’s happening,” Cash informed him. “I’m rewriting ‘Back for Good.’ It’s a shit song and I can do better.”
A lie. “Back for Good” was one of his best. But it was too honest. And it depressed the hell out of him considering it would never come to pass.
“Are you insane?” came a sharp, feminine voice from behind.
This time Will, Gavin and Luke all said “Yes” at the same time.
Cash turned to find Presley coming from the direction of the house, a dish of potato salad in her hands. Behind her, Hannah and Hallie completed their journey to the picnic table.
“I can’t let you rewrite that song,” Presley said.
“That’s what I said,” Will agreed.
Presley only had eyes for Cash. “That’s the best song on the album so far. Hell, it might be your best song ever. Even better than ‘Lightning.’”
“That’s a big statement,” Gavin said.
“You must not have heard it yet,” she challenged before her gaze jerked back to Cash.
“Ladies and gentlemen, start moving to the picnic table. Time to eat!” Travis hollered.
“Give us a sec.” Cash slid a meaningful glare to his brothers.
Luke stood, Gavin with him. Will snagged the bowl from Presley’s hands and followed his brothers, granting Cash and Presley a dab of privacy while the family arranged themselves on the long wooden benches.
“It was a mistake to contact Heather,” Presley said. “I didn’t expect her to call you. I really am sorry.”
“It’s done, Pres.”
“‘Back for Good’ is the best song I’ve ever heard and I’m not just saying that. Your fans deserve to hear it.”
He wedged his teeth together.
“Back for Good” was a fantasy. And he’d been a fool to believe he’d release that song and proceed to sing it for years to come without thinking of and missing the redhead gazing up at him now. “Back for Good,” like “Lightning,” was inspired by Presley. Except “Back for Good” was the happy ending to the sad story “Lightning” had started.
How the hell was he supposed to tell her that? Especially when their story ended with her leaving him this time around.
“We’re about to say grace, Cash,” Travis called.
“Coming,” Cash stood. “Pres, let it go.”
She didn’t.
“I forbid you from changing a single note of that song. A single word.” She touched the center of his chest.
He leaned in close, his nose almost touching hers. “That’s not up to you.”
“I’m your muse so it kind of is.” She poked him as she spoke as if punctuating each word.
“Seriously guys, I’m starving,” Luke offered. “You know Dad won’t let us eat until we pray.”
Cash ignored him.
