29. Maddie
29
MADDIE
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Maddie said as she exited the luxury port-a-pots, where she’d been doing her makeup.
Jake had apparently been waiting for her, his face shadowed by the fading daylight. The Pearsons had plenty of patio string lights up in the area where their barbecue food truck was and over by the stage area, but here it was darker. “I’m so sorry, Maddie.”
“Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” She brushed past him. She just wanted to put the whole humiliating episode behind her and for this fucking day to be over.
“You should know, I found out that someone started a rumor about the Cortland apples—folks just didn’t want the apples, not you. I have a feeling I know who started the rumor?—”
“Gina Strickland? Yeah, I figured.” Maddie scowled. “I don’t understand what the hell that girl’s problem is. She won. She has Josh. And she’s welcome to him. Why the hell does she have it out for me so badly?”
“You know the Stricklands never forgave Pops for selling gelato at the Depot. Fred has been carrying on about how it has cut his ice cream business in half for the past two years. And then there’s the fact that the whole town is going on about some incident in the Stricklands’ storeroom. Slow down, will you?”
She didn’t slow as she moved toward the tent serving as the “backstage” area. “First of all, the Depot hasn’t hurt the Stricklands at all. With the influx of tourists in the summer coming to the Depot, lines were out the door and halfway down the block to the Stricklands this year. How often did that happen before Pops built the Depot?”
She drew a deep breath. “And the other thing? There might be some truth to it, but I doubt Fred Strickland mentioned he called me trashy, then tried to shake Brooks’s hand. Of course Brooks didn’t take to it too kindly.”
“I’m not arguing. Just saying.” Jake grabbed her forearm. “But it’s the Stricklands. They want to humiliate you now. Don’t let it get to you. You’ve always been good at letting this shit go.”
Maddie almost paused, scanning Jake’s face. The truth was, she was more upset for a reason she couldn’t tell Jake: the crushing disappointment she’d felt when Brooks had let Milton Hirsch win the auction. Instead, she pressed forward, focusing on Jake’s attention to the Stricklands instead. “What if I don’t want to let go of it, though? What if I’m sick of how overblown everything has to get because we all constantly rub elbows with the same people? Brandywood just feels so . . . small lately.”
Jake’s steps faltered. “What’re you saying?”
“Nothing.” She tucked her long hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it. I have a song to sing and then I’m going home right after that. I wouldn’t even do it if I hadn’t signed up, but I don’t want Gina thinking that she got to me.”
“But she got to you and that’s okay. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m not sure who I’m madder at—her and Josh or the people in town who cared more about not getting a bad crop of apples and want to take Fred’s side every time he wants to bully people. But hey, at least Brooks made you look good at the end. Highest bid ever on record.”
“Yeah, before giving up and letting Milton win,” Maddie muttered, a fresh wave of embarrassment rising in her chest. Was that why he’d done it? She couldn’t comprehend his motivation for driving up the bid like that and then abandoning it at the last second.
He couldn’t have known that, with each bid, she’d felt a spark of hope and excitement she didn’t dare dwell on for too long.
And then he’d just . . . stopped.
Why did he do it?
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the onslaught of thoughts.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
“I have to go,” she snapped. “I’m gonna sing and get the hell out of here. See you later, Jake.”
She hurried to the backstage area. The competition had already begun and, even from here, she could hear Millie Price doing her infamous rendition of “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree.” The familiarity of it was sweet, but Maddie almost rolled her eyes.
Normally, it would have brought at least a smile to her face.
When had she become such a curmudgeon?
“Maddie?” Samantha Doyle came into the tent, holding a clipboard. “You’re almost up. Right after Millie.”
Garrett’s wife had her long dark hair tied up, looking fresh-faced and stylish. When she’d moved back into town after living in New York for years, Maddie remembered how often she’d tried to memorize Sam’s outfits, hoping to go online and find something similar. They’d never been close—Sam was older by several years—but Maddie liked her a lot.
“Okay, thanks,” Maddie said, a flutter of nerves gripping her stomach.
“You’re going to do great,” Sam said with an encouraging smile. “You always do.”
Maddie nodded distractedly. As Sam turned to go, Maddie said, “Hey, Sam?—”
Sam turned back and waited.
Maddie drew closer to her. “I know this is super random, but . . . do you ever regret coming back to Brandywood? Or miss New York?”
A faint look of surprise lit Sam’s eyes. Then understanding.
“I don’t regret coming back. Brandywood is home now—for real—and I’m happy here.” She stepped a little closer. “But do I miss New York? Yeah, I do. I didn’t leave New York because I didn’t love it. Living there was fun. Exciting. I had a life that checked all the boxes for my career as a photographer. Giving that up wasn’t easy; but it forced me to be creative in other ways that I might not have allowed myself to if I’d stayed there.”
Her pulse quickened.
She’d never really allowed herself to go down this line of thought too much. Like Sam said, Brandywood was home.
“It’s a hard decision to make,” Sam said softly. “In my case, I didn’t have the same relationship with my family that you do. But I regret the time I lost with them. Especially after my mom died.”
Maddie blinked, feeling strangely exposed. “Yeah, I just . . . wonder, sometimes. It was easy not to let myself think of anywhere else because of that. And anyway, I have the Depot to run.”
Sam pursed her lips and hugged the clipboard to her chest. After a beat, she leaned closer still. “If I can give you any advice, Maddie, it’s this. If you’re not happy with who you are when you’re home, you won’t be happy with who you are away from it. That doesn’t mean you can’t leave. It just means you’ll need to find your peace somewhere along the journey.”
Why am I even thinking about this? I love Brandywood. It’s my home.
She didn’t really want to leave . . . did she?
Applause punctured her thoughts. Time to go.
Her gut churned. She’d sung in front of people from town dozens of times. It wasn’t her most comfortable place, but she’d do it for the fun of it. But somehow, today wasn’t fun.
She’d chosen “Wildfire” because she’d been listening to it so much the past week that she was certain she knew the lyrics by heart.
But if Brooks is there . . . especially given she’d chosen one of his songs. ..would he walk off mumbling about amateur hour?
No, Maddie. Just get this done so you can leave.
She wouldn’t think about the possibility of him hearing her, or that everyone in town knew she’d been hanging out with him.
Whatever. I can only go up from today’s lovely apple auction. Or the apple picking. Or the orchard incident with Brooks. In fact, the whole day had been one embarrassing episode after another.
She headed up onto the stage, blinking in the blinding light. The lone spotlight was operated from behind the chairs set up in front of the stage, beside the sound booth.
Her pulse went faster.
This is stupid.
Why did I say I would do this?
Yet she had done it so many times before. Most of these people had heard her sing.
But usually the town wasn’t mad at her, with the Stricklands gunning against her.
Then again, she was from this town, too. She knew how to charm them. How to get people back on her side.
She grabbed the mic, thankful that she couldn’t see the audience because of the spotlight. “Hey, Brandywood. Everyone having a good night?”
A few tepid cheers sounded, including a familiar whoop from Jake. At least I know he’s here for me.
Time to be vulnerable. She hadn’t practiced saying anything, so she didn’t know what to say, but these were her people. They also knew an apology when they heard one. And like it or not for Josh and Gina, the town also knew what had happened with that relationship. Maybe Brooks had offended Fred Strickland, but she’d been hurt first.
“So the man who wrote this song came into my life recently...when I really needed it. He helped me get my feet back on the ground on a night when I was having a tough time and needed a friend. He’s a pretty amazing person and musician, so I’m sure you’ll recognize the song, and I promised to show him a side of our town that would help him see why Brandywood is the best. A place of warmth and forgiveness. Where when someone makes a mistake, we do our best to extend the hand, make things better. Work to settle our differences. We support our own, but we also welcome strangers. So this song is for you, Brandywood. I love you.”
More applause this time, stronger than before.
She drew a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.
The familiar music began from the speakers, and she put the microphone back in the stand, trying to relax.
You can do this, Maddie.
Somehow, the words came, as though her voice knew what to do, even if her brain was going into overdrive. Singing had never felt like she had as much on the line, and she loathed that the Stricklands and their ilk were out there, probably judging her.
And then there’s Naomi, who avoided me all day again.
Don’t think about that.
The easier the words and melody came, the more her body relaxed into it. Her voice wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but it was strong and she could carry a tune without being pitchy.
Crack.
The music and spotlight went out.
Maddie froze, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the hanging string lights.
What the hell just happened?
Her stomach plummeted, her eyes scanning the face of the audience that grew clearer by the second. The guy handling the sound booth and light was on his hands and knees in front of the booth, scrambling for an unplugged cord . . .
No.
It wasn’t possible. The Stricklands wouldn’t sink this low, would they?
The audience was looking back at the sound booth now, exchanging glances. She saw the faces of her family in the audience, near the front row . . . Mom and Dad, Jake, Naomi and her husband, Lindsay and Travis . . . Logan, Kayla, and Audrey . . .
Brooks stood up from beside his sister, no sunglasses this time. He’d taken his hat off, too.
In a few fluid steps, he snatched a guitar that was set up on stage. Throwing the strap around his shoulder, he came closer and whispered, “Just start from that verse again.”
Her heart throbbed as he played, the guitar’s sounds bright with a confidence that his expert hands evoked. Not like the quiet strumming from the other night, but someone who knew this melody like the back of his hand.
Because he does.
Her throat thickened with emotion, then she cleared it and sang, trying to keep her voice steady.
A cheer went up from the audience, bolstering her confidence.
Brooks stayed in the background, not intruding as she continued. She’d heard acoustic versions of “Wildfire” before, but for him to be her accompaniment? Sheer. Magic.
She could barely process it.
It wasn’t just that he’d rescued her from a situation meant to humiliate her.
Or that she might sing this better than she’d been before.
But . . . Brooks Kent, rock star, celebrity, whatever else he was . . .
. . . might actually be her friend.
When the song ended, the audience collectively seemed to hold their breath.
She stared out at the crowd, her heart pounding loudly now. Please. She sent the message out to them all. Please be the people I know you are.
Then the entire audience climbed to their feet, shouting and cheering more loudly than they’d done for anyone. The spotlight popped back on, and Maddie squinted against the harsh light as Brooks set the guitar down and came toward her. “Take a bow,” he said with a wink, then started for the edge of the stage.
She grabbed his hand. “Take one with me.”
His fingers slipped against hers, interlacing hers with gentle pressure. Her chest squeezed, his touch sizzling with a fire that jolted through her. He lifted their hands up and then took a bow together.
The crowd continued their boisterous, standing ovation.
Rather than releasing her hand, Brooks tugged her closer to him. “I cheated myself of a kiss earlier,” he said in a low voice against her ear. “But not because I didn’t want to pay one thousand dollars for it, Madison. Or because I didn’t want to.”
What is even happening right now?
He cupped her face softly as though there wasn’t a loud crowd continuing to clap. His eyes searched hers. “A kiss from you is priceless. But I won’t ever force you.”
Is that what he thinks? That I don’t want to kiss him?
Before she could overthink it, Maddie wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, her mouth colliding with his.
She didn’t care that everyone she knew was watching.
She cared about the way her body fit against his, his arm curling around her upper back. His hand slid to the small of her back, tugging her closer as the soft pressure of his mouth molded against her own.
Cameras flashed, but she closed her eyes, ignoring them all.
Her body heated with desire, her head spinning as she forced herself to break away before a simple kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in front of her parents. And the town. And his niece and sister. That wouldn’t do anything to win anyone over.
But damn, she wanted him.
Okay, Maddie, calm the fuck down.
Her breath was ragged as she stepped back, heart slamming hard in her rib cage. She didn’t venture a look at her family.
Brooks held out a hand toward the crowd to settle them.
When they were quiet enough, Brooks used a voice that was clearly well-practiced on stage and said, “Not sure what happened with sound there, as a plug has never simply come out of its socket for me before, but let’s get it fixed. In the meantime, I’ll be back in town for the festival in just a few weeks to headline the Saturday night concert. Looking forward to it, Brandywood.”
Wait. What?
The crowd cheered again.
“I thought you said the deal was off?” she whispered to him.
He shrugged. “I’m not doing it because I owe you. I’m doing it for you . Because I want to.”
She searched his gaze. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not ready to walk away from this, Maddie. From you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
As though he hadn’t already practically melted her into a puddle.
She was tempted to kiss him again.
Brooks leaned his lips close to her ear. “Want to get out of here?”
“I can’t think of anything I want to do more,” Maddie whispered back.
They hurried off the stage, hand in hand, heading for the back. Maddie pulled Brooks forward, away from the noise and chaos of Applepalooza. Her family would want to come celebrate and rage with her, but right now, she just needed this man in front of her.
“I’m not doing it because I owe you. I’m doing it for you. Because I want to.”
He was complicated, but his simple statement told her something important. He was loyal and kind, and she wanted a man like him in her life. Even if I don’t know how to make our very different lives fit together.
Moonlight illuminated the way, the crisp scent of burning wood fires filling her soul.
Brooks Kent was only here for one more night.
But maybe he had something else in mind.
Going back with him didn’t hold any guarantees. No matter what, she wasn’t ready to walk away either.