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Chapter Eighteen
The fireflies twinkled through the perfect night sky. It was the end of their mating season, and so these little glowing rascals were the last of the romantic holdouts. Funny that these remaining “singles” put on such a show to get attention.
Emily knew that dance all too well.
Everyone else was inside for the moment. She listened to the clinking plates and Nash’s chatter. Millie had enough storytelling ammunition to hold over his father’s head for at least a good year or so. Nash had taken over washing the dishes and ordered Emily outside on the porch with her guitar. He’d promised Mia that she’d be ready for her performance and he was following through.
She sat on the porch swing outside and rested her guitar on her knees, playing with the strings of the instrument as it mingled with the sound of singing insects. The fireflies danced in lazy circles to these melodies of the night. Emily was about to crash the party with her guitar. A song had been brewing in her head since the beginning of this trip and was just waiting to get out:
“Oh woe is me, little Miss Small Town met the bad boy from Tennessee.
Now she’s a little Miss-creant snuggled next to him in his pickup truck.
They say he’s bad news, but you know who loves company, is Little Miss Miss-ery!”
She laughed at the silly little ditty as she worked the lyrics into correlating with actual notes. Nash had a way of being the perfect muse. She’d been fashioning three different melodies since Mia had accused him of being a bad boy at Lacy Lynch’s party. The music was flowing faster than ever, like it did when she’d been so worried about her brother. There was something about pain and love and living that made her art better.
“You’ve got your baseball cap on backwards, so you can kiss me whenever you want.
I forget to breathe as the bumpy roads throw me closer to your warmth.
It’s the smolder in those dancing eyes. You don’t play fair.
Who put that sparkle in them? You say it’s me, but I’ve seen it there before.
Mr. Bad to the Bone—too bad that bad company makes for good with a little Miss-Behavior!”
Some of those lyrics worked with her tune—others she had to tweak to be shorter or longer. No matter what, the end result always came out better.
Emily smiled. She couldn’t wait to share this new one with Nash. Creating songs was her favorite part of the process. Without a doubt, she’d had a fantastic time at that karaoke night with that eager group of assembled teenagers who’d stopped by to listen. She’d even felt a thrill during the rodeo when she’d managed to blast those high notes into the sky with Nash by her side. But enjoying the peace on the porch while she crafted a song, surrounded by nothing but the fireflies and the chirping crickets to keep her company was pure bliss.
“Let’s take off from this town, you and me. We’ll get out of here.
You throw your pack into the back, and I’ll bring everything I own.
City roads turn into country. Something about you that seems so right.”
Emily sighed, reworking a few words here and there while she thought on the last few days. Something strange was coming over her. Now that she was getting brave and facing her biggest fears, she was growing into someone capable of navigating the rough waters of life, though a part of her felt uneasy. She didn’t want to lose herself in all this. The label was trying to make her pretend to be something that she wasn’t.
And what was she? A romantic who had it in her to take her chances on love, no matter if it led to heartbreak or–or… a fulfilling future? Was that being fake, or was she finally just taking the excuse to be a little vulnerable for once? She sang through her next lyrics, feeling the emotion cut her through.
“We’ve got everything we need right here, just you and me, and the dog.
My bad, but we make good music. Why is that if we’re so wrong for each other?
Hey, Bad Boy, you ready for some little Miss-Conduct?”
“You singin’ about me?”
Emily glanced up with a quick smile. How much had he heard? Nash had a way of making the embarrassing bearable with those dancing eyes. “Hey, you know what?” she cried out with more self-conscious laughter. “Everyone is expecting the obligatory Nash song.”
“Okay, Taylor Swift. Just admit that I’m a great muse.” He settled beside her on the bench swing, making her fly back with him. She clung to her guitar. Their knees knocked together while he worked on bringing down the rocking. “What else you got for me?” he asked once the swing was back to a gentle rhythm.
“Well, it’s time for the big ending,” she admitted. “This song could go two ways…” The lighthearted conversation was marred by a pang in her gut. She was feeling something that she couldn’t quite identify yet.
“Two ways, huh?” he asked. “Let me guess what’s next on the docket:
Why does this hurt so bad?
