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Her words echoed in my head like shouting into a deep, dark cave.
“Excuse me for wanting to protect myself from the only man on the planet I’ve loved enough to break my heart.”
There was more to unpack with that statement, but all I could focus on was the fact that she still loved me. She was terrified, but she still loved me. And as long as she did, there was hope for us.
I just needed to prove it to her. And to do that, I needed to make a gesture grander than anything I’d ever done before.
My phone started to ring, Cal’s name popping up on the screen and sending a bolt of frustration shooting through me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” I grunted before I swiped my thumb across the screen to answer. I brought it to my ear and growled through the line, “Is this a joke? Please tell me it’s a fucking joke, because I’m almost certain I told you not to call me again after the last time we talked.”
My manager’s voice came through the line not sounding contrite in the slightest. “I know what you said, Roan, but this is important. Ineedto talk to you.”
I dragged a hand through my hair and over my face, the scruff I hadn’t shaved since I arrived in Hope Valley scratching against my palm. “Let me guess. This has something to do with that estate planner asshole you gave my number to. Think you and I are gonna have to have a serious fucking talk about you doing that, pal.”
“No, it’s not about that,” he blurted. “Look, will you just listen? This is important. I don’t know where you are, but you need to get back to Nashville as soon as possible. The label is done playing games. They said if you aren’t willing to record an album that they approve of, they’re not going to renew your contract.”
He said it like it was the worst news he could possibly share, but his words set a lightbulb off in my head, and suddenly I knew exactly what my gesture to Alma was going to be.
“Fine. I’ll head back today,” I told him. “I should get in sometime late tonight.”
He sighed like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. I hung up before he could say anything else, because I wanted the satisfaction of being face to face when he discovered that my return to Nashville was going to be anything but a relief for him.
It only took me about an hour to pack all my shit up into the few bags I brought with me, and as I stood in the middle of Alma’s living room, taking one final glance, Tortellini wound his way through my feet, making a figure eight with his fat body.
“Yeah, I know. I’m going to miss you too,” I relented. “Even if your fat ass tried to kill me in my sleep.”
He sat down, his body turning into a basketball before my very eyes. He opened his mouth and meowed that blood-curdling death meow of his.
“I know, I know. I should wait until she gets home so I can tell her in person, but I left it all in the letter.” I pointed to the envelope on the counter where I’d enclosed the letter I’d written to Alma, telling her everything. “And this won’t take long. I’ll be back in a few days, I promise. And then, we’re putting your chunky ass on a diet.”
If a cat could flip a person off, I was sure that was what Tortellini would have been doing right then. But he’d deal. I’d make it worth it for him. Just like I’d make giving me another chance worth it for Alma.
But first, my grand gesture.
Bending down, I gave the cat a scratch behind his ears and grabbed the handle of my guitar case. With my duffle bag looped around my opposite shoulder, I headed out, using the key I was damn well keeping to lock the door behind me.
As I climbed into my truck and started it up, I stared back at the house, at the front porch where I’d created some of the best songs I’d written in a decade. Being away from Alma these next few days was going to make them some of the worst in my life.
But it would be worth it. Because I’d have her.
* * *
Alma
That had to have been one of the worst rehearsals of my life. I couldn’t concentrate. I screwed up basic moves. I stumbled over parts of dances I already knew. And worst, I’d gotten snappy with my friends when they pointed out the mistakes I was making.
I apologized more during the rehearsal than I had in a very long time, but eventually, the stares and concerned looks from my friends were too much, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to get out of there.
The truth was, I was mad at myself, and I was taking it out on everyone around me. It wasn’t like me to do that, to treat the people I cared about badly, so I made the excuse of not feeling well and left rehearsal early.
I drove around aimlessly, cursing myself for my temper, cursing myself for being a coward. Roan had put it all out there, and I couldn’t bring myself to let go of the past, to lower those freaking walls of mine.
Finally, after cruising past Muffin Top and all the other restaurants and stores downtown, I summoned up the courage to turn my car toward home.
I owed Roan an apology. Actually, I owed him more than that, but I’d start with saying I was sorry.
I turned onto my street, rehearsing what I was going to say in my head, only, as I pulled into my driveway, the truck that had been sitting there was gone.
