It Was Nothing

1. Ford

CHAPTER 1

ford

ONE YEAR EARLIER

M y mom always said my music would be the scale-tipper on Judgment Day—sending me to an eternal torment of fire and brimstone. I thought it might be the years I’d spent as an addict. Looked like we were both wrong. Apparently, the road to hell is actually paved with backstage passes you sent your best friend, unbeknownst to your fiancée.

The stadium trembled—our fans cheering as one, their desperate rhythm demanding Whiskey and Women break their silence.

I lived for this. Hungered for it when I wasn’t on stage, dreamed of it every night until we were here again. But I struggled to feel excited tonight.

Our drummer, Travis, beat his sticks against his thighs. “Ford,” he called. “Your guitar’s been tuned.”

I nodded. Of course, it had been tuned. It was tuned before each show. But I knew what Travis was saying. Get off the phone and focus on the concert that’s about to begin.

I pinched the cell between my shoulder and ear, straining to hear my fiancée, twenty-seven-year-old, up-and-coming country singer Georgia Rain McKenzie.

“I need you to give me a date,” Georgia said on the other end of the phone. “October, December, April of next year. I don’t care anymore. Just pick something . People are starting to ask if this wedding is happening. You saw me on the Nate Midnight show last week. It was humiliating.”

“Ford,” Hank, our lead guitarist, called impatiently. “It’s time.”

I held up a finger to let him know I was almost done. “I know,” I said to Georgia. “I’ll nail down a date just as soon as the tour ends.”

“The tour still has six weeks to go!” She sounded like she was about to cry.

“Hold still,” Vincent, one of the sound technicians, hissed as he adjusted my earpiece. “You knocked it loose.”

“Where are you tonight? Raleigh?” Georgia sniffled.

“No,” I mumbled. “Tonight is Charlottesville.”

All the hustle and bustle of the band stopped, and everyone turned my way.

Georgia’s silence made the hair on my neck stand on end.

“Is Peyton going to be there?” she growled.

I looked at my band with wide eyes. Grady shook his head and laughed.

“I don’t know if she’s coming,” I blurted. Maybe if I had, my stomach would stop trying to eject itself through my back.

“You invited her though, didn’t you?”

“Did I invite her?” I repeated the question, stalling.

Don’t do it , Travis mouthed.

Lie! Hank followed.

That’s how they rolled. But they weren’t raised by Bo and Jenny Dupree, who had an entire creed of do’s and don’ts, the first of which very clearly stated: Duprees never, ever lie.

Grady knew me too well. You’re going down. He chuckled.

“Yeah. I did,” I admitted, barely above a whisper.

Georgia let out an ear-splitting shriek.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “She’s my best friend, Georg.”

“You promised!”

A seismic pulse started that we knew all too well. Thousands of feet stomping in unison. “WE WANT FORD! WE WANT FORD! WE WANT FORD!”

Hank laughed over the heavenly cacophony. “They’re ripe tonight!”

I wished I could enjoy it.

“Ford!” Georgia’s voice was shrill.

“I haven’t seen her in six months,” I said. Even though I’d vowed to back off of my friendship with Peyton—something that had broken her heart—it wasn’t enough for Georgia. It was never enough. “I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“I want you to never see her again. Ever.” There it finally was.

“That’s kind of dramatic, don’t you think?”

“We’re getting married! How am I supposed to have a wedding with her there? She’d outshine me in sweats. I can’t be the second prettiest woman at the wedding. I need to be the first!”

I should’ve told her that wasn’t true. That she was prettier than Peyton. But as we’ve already established, Duprees never, ever lie. So maybe it was my fault that Georgia couldn’t get over the fact that my best friend was a supermodel. Okay, Peyton was an LPN at the nursing home in Seddledowne and a single mom, but she was beautiful enough to be a supermodel.

I was fairly certain it wasn’t Peyton’s beauty that rankled Georgia in the end. It was how close we were. Too close for me to be engaged to someone else. Even I could see that.

But the last six months of no contact were the hardest I’d had since getting clean four years ago.It felt like I’d been sentenced to life in some kind of emotional prison with no parole in sight. I couldn’t do it anymore. The longer I stayed away from Peyton, the heavier everything felt. Without my best friend, I was one bad day from heading to the bar.

So, if I was lucky—if God was being the tiniest bit merciful—Peyton was out in that crowd with my family right now, screaming my name. I couldn’t care about anything else.

The guys stood by the door, waving me over.

“Peyton is the one who set us up in the first place,” I said into the phone. Set up was putting it mildly. More like Peyton pawned me off the minute she saw Georgia.

“If I was opening for you,” Georgia whined. “I wouldn’t have to worry about this. I’d be there right now.”

“You’re not an opening act, Georgia.”

“Don’t you bring her backstage after the tour!” she clipped. “Do you hear me?”

The stadium exploded again, shaking the entire room. I had no idea what Ace, our hype man, was saying to the crowd but he deserved a raise.

“Ford!” Hank barked.

“Be right there,” I snapped. I put my mouth right to the phone. “I’m not making that promise, Georgia.”

“No contact! Do you hear me?” Her voice was shrill.

“This isn’t a jail and you’re not a warden. I can’t live like this,” I said, utterly frustrated. “I won’t live like this.”

“I’m not negotiating with you. There is no more Peyton. The end. And if you bring her backstage, we’re done.”

I stood there, blinking, trying to picture a life where I never saw or spoke to Peyton again.

Yeah. Not happening.

“Understood. I’ll call you after the concert.” To break up.

“If she comes backstage, don’t bother.” The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. “Whatever.” I tossed it onto the couch with an exhale.

Hank swore. “Finally.”

Grady held his hand out, palm side down. Travis laid his over Grady’s, followed by Hank’s. I dropped mine on top, just like always.

“Oh, don’t forget,” Hank said. “We’re switching out 'Before the Morning Light' for ‘Ride Me Like a Highway.’”

“What?” I snapped. “No! Who approved that?” Grady and Hank wore mischievous grins. “My family’s out there. I’m not singing ‘Ride Me Like a Highway’ with my mother in the crowd.”

Grady let a snort escape.

Hank shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Too late now.”

I let a string of curse words loose but nobody cared. “I swear y’all are still in high school.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Fun-sucker,” he coughed.

Grady started the hand bounce.

“On three, boys,” I said, feeling like I could spit gravel. “One. Two. Three.”

“Whiskey’s poured and the women are ready!” we shouted. Well, they shouted. I said it through gritted teeth. It was the chant we’d had since the beginning but it irked me now. I hadn’t had a drop of whiskey in four and a half years. And the only woman I’d been with for the past two years wasn’t the one I really wanted.

Needless to say, the chant did nothing to hype me up.

It was mayhem after that. The best kind. The other guys ran through the door to find their places. When the crowd saw them, thunderous cheering echoed off the walls. As I waited for my cue, I checked the one-sided text thread I shared with Peyton.

Sun, April 14th at 9: 42 AM

I sent two extra tickets and backstage passes to Lemon for my Charlottesville concert in August. I’d love for you and Cash to come.

Thurs, May 23 at 7:33 AM

Did you get the tickets?

Thurs, July 4th at 10:11 PM

I really want you to come.

Sat, July 6th at 2:21 PM

I miss you. Man, I miss you.

And Cash.

I’d sent the last one this morning.

Friday, Aug, 16 at 3:30 AM

Please come, Peyt. I need to see you in that crowd.

She’d left me on read for all of them. It wasn’t a good sign. Even if she didn’t like it, Peyton understood how Georgia felt. Said that she’d feel the same if it were her.

The despair of knowing Peyton was an hour from here, that I’d given her a front-row ticket, and that she wouldn’t be out there when I got on stage, felt too heavy to bear.

I couldn’t afford to be down right now. All those people out there had paid big money for tickets and driven hours—possibly days—to get here. So I did my best to push it to the back of my mind. I bounced on my toes, trying to get the blood moving.

My bodyguard, Jeff, swung the door open. “Go time!” he shouted over the roar.

The moment I stepped into the sunlight, the crowd went nuclear. Women screamed, cried, offered to have my baby. Typical night.

I jogged up the fifty-yard-long ramp on the left side of the enormous stage, high-fiving people as I went.

Up top, Travis hit the drum with an explosive crack.

Grady and Hank played the first chords of “Southern Country Zone.”

The crowd came unhinged.

I took the stage stairs two at a time. When I reached the top, a member of the tech crew held my guitar out for me. I slid the strap over my head and walked to center stage. The cheering grew even louder. There was no fighting the grin that spread across my face. This view was my very favorite. A sea of excited, cheering fans were here to see us. To see me .

Travis’s drumsticks pounded, amping the crowd up even more.

“Char-lottes-ville!” I thrust my fist into the air. “Home sweet home!”

The response was deafening.

Then Grady ripped the chord that was my cue and I began to sing.

Pickup trucks and open fields

Fireworks shot up at the corners of the stage.

City lights, they hold no appeal.

The fans were already singing along.

Small-town roots run deep in me.

But your love sets my spirit free.

I crossed the stage, eyes desperate, searching for my family.

Ain't nothing like these Virginia nights

We tailored this song to fit whatever state we were performing in. After six long months, I was so happy to put Virginia back where she belonged. She was the one you’d hear me sing if you listened to it on the radio or a streaming service.

Where your love burns, pure and bright

My niece, Anna, waved wildly off to the right. Smashed next to the stage, head bobbing with the beat, reaching for me, a massive, gorgeous smile on her face. She’d flown home from Kansas City for this! I hadn’t known she was coming.

I threw my head back and laughed.

Next to her were James, Griffin, and Bowen—Silas and Lemon’s boys. Followed by Liam, Christy and Holden’s son. Theo and Charlie, Ashton and Tally’s teens. And Cash.

Cash was here!

I pointed at Peyton’s twelve-year-old son, singing his heart out. He grinned up at me.

If Cash was here, Peyton was here!

Hopefully. Unless she had to work and sent him with Lemon and Silas. Sometimes that happened. No, she had to be here! I needed her to be here.

A massive speaker blocked my view of the rest of my family. I strode over as I sang, hope filling my chest.

Every mile marker, every county line,

Tells the story of how you're mine

The closer I got, the more Duprees I saw. My brothers. Their wives. More nieces and nephews, Dad, and Mom, who gave me a double-handed wave. I bent down and squeezed Anna’s outstretched hand. Then I held my hand out to touch every Dupree I could reach. I ruffled Cash’s wiry hair. Mom squeezed between the kids and I kissed her on the top of her head.

The crowd loved it.

I kept searching.

And then I saw her. Hanging back, letting me have a moment with my family.

Her long, mocha-brown hair glistened in the fading sun. Tan skin that was rosy and sun-kissed like she’d been working in her yard all day. Crystal blue eyes framed with thick, black lashes. There was no one as perfectly beautiful as Peyton Belle Jamerson.

When our eyes met she gave me an animated grin and dramatically pointed at her chest. She’d bought a tour T-shirt. The one with my face on it that said, Ford Dupree: The Reason They Invented Bar Tabs.

Such a dumb shirt. Especially now that I was sober. I should’ve laughed. Should’ve been so pumped. But I just stood there, staring at her—a sight for the sorest eyes—not smiling, my throat too thick to sing.

What had I been thinking? I couldn’t marry Georgia and never see her again. I would never be okay without Peyton in my life.

The relief I felt at seeing her was all-consuming. My chest convulsed, a sob threatening to break loose. I held the microphone out, indicating for the crowd to take over.

In this Southern Country Zone,

Baby, you're the only home I've known

She came. Oh man, she came.

The dam of darkness that had been building in me broke and sunlight poured through. I was going to be all right. She was here. Everything was okay.

I pressed a kiss to two fingers and pointed them at her.

With tears streaming down her smiling face, she blew a kiss back. I missed you too , she mouthed.

When “Southern Country Zone” wound down, I tapped the talk button on my mic pack and whispered to my band, “Skip ‘Ride Me Like a Highway.’ Replace with ‘Before the Morning Light.’” I tapped it again. “Benson?” I said, hoping to talk to the tour manager. “I need you to get Peyton backstage right after the show. Ahead of my family. I need a few minutes with her. I don’t care how you have to do it.”

My earpiece buzzed, letting me know someone was about to speak. “You got it, boss.”

With that taken care of, I gave Charlottesville and my home state the show of their lives.

By the time I jogged off the stage, I was a sweaty mess. But what a concert it had been. I stood under the AC backstage, emptying a water bottle. Then another.

The door opened. Benson walked in and immediately stepped aside, gesturing for the person behind him.

I held my breath as Peyton glided into the room. Her eyes were huge, taking everything in, so curious. That was just Peyton. She still had on the T-shirt with my face, but now I could see her tiny army green shorts that showed way too much leg.

When she saw me, she squealed, “Ford!” and sprinted across the room. I got my arms out just as she launched herself into the air. She slammed into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

I stumbled back a step, hugging her so tight. A feeling of peace and rightness bloomed in the center of my chest. My rapid heartbeat thrust it to my fingertips and toes. With her there against me, my soul felt at rest for the first time in six months.

“Ford,” she said again like she’d taken a lifelong journey and my name was the code word to enter the Pearly Gates. “You were amazing.” She smoothed a hand over the back of my sweat-soaked hair.

“Thanks,” I managed to get out, nose pressed into her cheek, so stupid-happy. “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” She laughed, slowly sliding down my body until her feet were on the ground. But our arms were still wrapped around each other. She stared up at me. It looked like she was trying to take a mental picture. Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I tried not to but…. you were here.”

I leaned my forehead against hers. “Yeah, I know. Trust me.”

I closed my eyes and breathed her in. I didn’t care that Hank, Grady, and Travis were gawking. That security was running all over the place and sound techs were trying to work around us. All I cared about was that she’d come. That she was here in my arms.

Then her torso shook and I realized she was crying.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Don’t worry. We won’t be doing that no-talking thing ever again.”

“We won’t?”

“Definitely not. That was terrible. Just awful.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, but the sobs were still coming. “But Georgia?”

“Don’t you worry about it another second.”

Just then, the door flew open and my family began filing in. “Hey, guys,” I called. But I didn’t stop hugging Peyton and she didn’t stop hugging me. When Lemon saw us, her expression turned melancholy and she pressed a hand to her heart.

Cash laughed. “She missed you, man.”

I grinned. “I missed her, too.”

Everyone was watching, smiling. Until Mom walked in.

Her forehead crinkled with a hundred little disapproval lines. Then she said two words, and I knew she knew I wasn’t getting married. Not to Georgia anyway.

“Oh, Ford.”