“Oh, so you’ll be here for Cissy’s barbecue! Good! William and I will be there, too. Okay, okay, I won’t keep you anymore. You’ve got better things to do, I’m sure. Go, go, skidoo! Get on out before I talk you to death. Seriously, though, that storm.” She swats at me. “And let me know next time you bring a friend into town so I can be better prepared for you, will you? I’d have had William throw in his secret sauce on your burgers.” Then after a wink, back into the kitchen she goes, no further questions asked.
It’s only then I realize Austin and I are still holding hands.
Did she not notice? Or just not make a big deal out of it?
“Like I said, I’m pretty sure people already know,” I’m telling Austin as we pass through Spruce Park. The ducks aren’t here, I’m sad to report. I guess Little A has Little Duck Mob business to deal with. “See the look on Mrs. Tucker’s face? Barely batted an eye!”
Austin pockets his phone—he just checked it for a third time since we left the diner—and chuckles. “Life out here sure seems as easy as breathin’. Doesanyonein this town have drama?”
“All of them. Don’t let looks deceive you. You just won’t know it until you’re here long enough.”
“Wish I could stay longer.” He chuckles to himself as he walks by my side along the path, our arms grazing. “I’ve sure enjoyed my time with you this past week.”
I wonder ifthat’swhat’s got him moody today. “Y’know you’re welcome to come back anytime. I mean, your tourdoescome to an end eventually, right?”
He nods. “Of course it does.” Then his walking slows. “Though afterwards, it’s likely back to Nashville. Meetings with the label. A ton of discussions on the next big move for Chase Holt. Upcoming album. Everyone’s got an opinion. Label, producers, Ian, all of ‘em. What’s gonna sell. What won’t. What I need to sound like.” He lets out a huff, then shrugs as he gazes at me. “My life gets loud.”
Loud, he says, as we stroll along through the peace and quiet of Spruce Park. “I see.” I study his face. “That gets to you, huh?”
“No worries. Better to enjoy the time we’ve got, right?”
“Right,” I agree halfheartedly. We both fall silent, continuing to walk along the path. Then: “So you live in Nashville?”
“Not permanently. I have a place there, but it’s mostly just for writing. It’s a mess. My family home’s outside Dallas, as you know. I try to visit as much as I can.” He squirms. “Well, that’s a lie. I … I always feel like I’m troublin’ my mom, so I don’t visit as much as I should. All of my siblings are all over the place. Tough to get them together, even for holidays. I miss feeling that sense of family. I didn’t scatter them. Chase Holt did,” he mutters, like a joke. “First thing you learn when you taste success in this business: you have to make sacrifices. Can’t have it all.”
I think about the sacrifices I’ve made in my years pursuing my parents’ dream in college. And what my life might look like a year from now when I’m graduated and staring at spreadsheets in that cute, plushie-filled office behind my house.
“I think you can have it all,” I state.
“That so?” he asks lamely.
He doesn’t believe me. “I do.” I come to a stop on the path and pull him to a stop, too. “I think we have more power in our lives than we ever give ourselves credit for. No matter how stuck you think you are. No matter how much power you believeeveryone else in your life has over you … I believe we can have it all.”
His sexy lips spread into a smile. “You’re so adorable.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Me too.” He wraps his arms around me right then, pulling me close. “You can really make me believe in anything, TJ, y’know that? I swear, I step foot into your life for one week, and now I’m picturing myself with Glorious out in the country with you by my side, lying on my back in a field of grass, lost in the chords, nothin’ around me but the sweet air, the music, and you.”
I can literally see that picture in Austin’s eyes right now.
The warmth of the sun in his eyes. The way the tall grass can whisper with the right breeze. The strumming of his guitar.
“That’s a beautiful picture,” I murmur. “Though … if you’re aiming for realism here, that sweet air you’re imagining probably smells more like distant animal manure …”
“It can smell like whatever it wants as long as it’s mine.” He kisses me, a surprise, then adds, “As long as you’re mine.”
Then we kiss again. And again.
I remember one of his first observations of Spruce was seeing two guys kissing under a tree. Now here we are, as free as ducks flying from pond to pond, making a home wherever we please, a new couple of guys kissing under our own tree.
We really can have it all, right?
We end the night at the Strong Fitness Zone, only because I happened to mention the big rock wall, and Austin says something about never, ever being allowed to do anything fun on tour. “You kiddin’ me?” he cries out when he sees it, stunned by the height and the complexity, ranging from the easier climbs on the left to the crazy ones on the right. “Where the hell do I harness up?”
“I can help with that,” comes a voice from behind.
When we turn, there stands Cole Harding, my absurdly good-looking pal in his fitted polo uniform shirt. “Cole!” I cry out.