The start of something unwritten.
“Ryder…”
He clears his throat. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “I’ll see you at soundcheck, later.”
He walks out without another word, leaving me alone in the tiny space I used to call home. Dust motes swirl in the air around me, along with thoughts I can’t quite block out.
A story still unfinished.
A love as yet unfaded.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ryder
It’sstrange to be back in Nashville — back home.
I’ve walked its every street, eaten at every restaurant, played at every dive in town. I spent twenty-two years here, dreaming of the day I’d finally cross those city limits for good. So eager to escape the destiny awaiting me here, I couldn’t recognize everything I was leaving behind.
After a long meeting with Francesca and an uneventful soundcheck, the rest of the band heads to our hotel’s rooftop pool, but I head out into the night instead. I walk ten blocks, my steps unhurried even as my pulse pounds with nerves. The two tickets are burning a hole in my back pocket with every step.
I stop outside the warehouse, eyes lingering on the fading WOODS ELECTRIC sign hanging over the open bay doors. The van’s missing from its spot, so he’s probably out on a work call. I steady my shoulders as I step inside and cross to the small office. The lights are doused, the doors locked.
Pulling the ticket envelope from my pocket, I grab a pen off the hallway table. The tip hovers as I think about the last words my father said to me.
You walk out that door, you’re no longer my son.
The pen finds purchase and I scrawl the words on the back of the envelope before I lose my nerve.
In case you’ve changed your mind.
I don’t bother signingmy name. He’ll know.
Sliding the envelope beneath the door, where he’s sure to find it, I turn and walk away from the future that could’ve been mine, a new peace settling over me with each step.
Maybe they’ll come. Maybe they won’t.
Either way, I’ll sleep easier knowing I tried.
For too long, I’ve been letting my life slip away, waiting for things to change with enough time or distance or space. But if I’ve learned anything at all, these past few months of misery, it’s that nothing ever alters without putting in an effort.
Don’t run,I told Felicity, weeks ago.Stand and fight.
My lips twist into a smile — the first that’s crossed my lips in so long, I can hardly remember my last.
It’s time I take my own advice.
* * *
“Nashville!”Felicity’s voice booms through the speakers. “Y’all are looking particularly amazing, tonight!”
The crowd roars in response, screaming her name as she bends to touch the hands reaching up from the front row. I don’t let myself glance at the far left corner of the floor section. I don’t want to see if the two seats I reserved for my parents are still empty.
“And can I just add…” My words echo out to every corner of Nissan Stadium. “It’s so damn good to be home!”
The screams of nearly seventy-thousand people shake the air all around us. It’s the biggest show we’ve done in quite a while, and their energy is infectious.
“Before we play our last song, I just wanted to take a minute to say thank you, on behalf of the entire band, for coming out to see us tonight.” Felicity’s speech is well practiced, at this point. “All of us, at one point or another, have called Nashville home. It’ll always have a special place in our hearts. We love this city — and we love y’all!”