Chapter 2
2
“She’s here! She’s here!” My excitable best friend comes running out the front door, screen door slamming behind her, sprinting down the steps. I’m enveloped in a deep, joyful hug.
“Hey, Dee.” I sigh. It’s one of those restorative sighs that somehow goes a long way toward replenishing my supply of soul food.
“It’s been way too long, bestie.” She slings her arm around my shoulders and we walk up toward the house. “I see you haven’t upgraded your ride even with all that money you’ve got now.”
“I like Bertha.” It was Dakota who named my truck when my brothers gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. And it was Nate who tuned it up so it stopped making the clunking noise every time I tried to start it. Even though I don’t drive it much these days, it’s been reliable ever since.
Betty-Ann is waiting on the porch. I texted my Aunt Lou last week and she told me she and Earl had a charity dinner event held by her sewing circle tonight but would absolutely cancel it so they could spend time with me. I texted back and told her they should absolutely go to the dinner and I would see them in the morning and that we had the whole weekend to catch up. She finally relented. The Boones’ farmhouse kitchen is where she spends most of her time anyway, chatting with Betty-Ann as they cook, sipping iced tea (and sometimes sherry) and gossiping about the local townspeople in nearby Sugar Falls, which has a population of somewhere around four thousand—more than enough to give them plenty to talk about.
“Hi, darlin’.” Betty-Ann hugs me. “Welcome home.”
“It’s so good to be here.”
Betty-Ann blots her eyes with the tissue she always keeps stuffed up her sleeve. “When are those brothers of yours coming for a visit?”
“They’d all love to. But their schedules have been pretty busy.”
Stepping back into the Boones’ huge kitchen feels like time-traveling. I’m suddenly fifteen again. The wooden floorboards creak in the same places they used to, the smell of fresh-baked cornbread and hot coffee fills the air, and there’s that familiar, homey chaos of a family living out loud .
I lean against the counter, feeling the texture of the worn wood beneath my palm, and for the first time in months, I let myself finally relax. If I close my eyes, I could be back in the middle of one of those golden childhood summers with all nine of us Boone and Tucker kids tumbling in and out of the back door for lemonade and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, a whirlwind of knobby knees and skinned elbows.
We spent those summers running through the fields, leaving laughter tangled in the cornstalks, and conquering the creek like small, soggy overlords, crowning ourselves with wreathes of leaves and making pets out of frogs who didn’t hop away quick enough. When the evenings came around, lazy and low, our skin tingling from the sun’s kisses, we’d all pile onto the porch with its big table laid out with mountains of home-cooked food, finally sitting still long enough to eat some of Betty-Ann and Aunt Lou’s fried chicken, potato salad and apple pie. Then we’d stay up late telling ghost stories until us Tuckers were occasionally ushered back to our beds next door—except for all the nights I’d stay in Dakota’s room because we couldn’t bear to be separated. Or the many, many nights we all camped out on the front lawn or swung hammocks from the rafters (depending on whether we were pirates or cowboys that day).
As I look around the kitchen, Luke and Leo are just coming in the back door, kicking off their work boots, looking wholesome and wide-shouldered, their shirts and windblown hair both dotted with errant pieces of hay.
“Well, if it isn’t Roxie Tucker,” Luke drawls, his familiar grin lighting up his face. “Come over here and hug your second favorite Boone.”
Leo nudges Luke out of the way and gets to me first. “That would be me,” Leo laughs and I can’t help laughing along with him. The two of them are tall, strapping, good-looking country boys and I have no doubt they have half of Sugar Falls county drooling over them both.
After the hugs have been attended to, the two of them pick right back up into the playful debate they were having over who’s the better grill master. The twins share one of the cottages on the farm, which is within easy walking distance of the main house. Despite their debate about grilling, I have no doubt they reliably turn up to Betty-Ann’s table every mealtime.
“Everyone knows my ribs are the talk of Sugar Falls,” Luke boasts.
Leo shakes his head. “Keep dreaming, brother. Last time you tried to grill, the fire department had to get involved.”
I see Tobias coming through the hallway door. “Hey, Rox.” I get yet another heartfelt bearhug.
I hold his burly shoulders and look up at him. With his light brown hair and bright hazel eyes, he and Dakota could easily have passed for another set of twins. He used to be a skinny little freckle-faced kid, but Tobias has gotten tall and filled out a lot over the past few years. “Wow, look at you,” I beam. “When did you get so hot ?”
Tobias grins. “I’ve always been hot. And when did you get so seriously gorgeous? Holy fuck, girlfriend.”
“Tobias Boone,” Betty-Ann scolds him softly, but there’s more love than heat in it.
Tobias is the second youngest Boone sibling, just a year older than Dakota and me.
Even when we were very young children, Tobias always preferred playing with us girls, rather than his older brothers. Dakota and I were tomboys but we still occasionally dressed up in tutus and pink costumes whenever the game of make-believe we were playing called for it. And Tobias was right there with us.
We all knew and accepted from the word go that Tobias was gay and it never felt like a thing that had to be worried about or questioned. It made me love the Boone family even more, that they fully embraced this part of Tobias with their characteristic whole-hearted love and good humor. Even in a small Tennessee community like Sugar Falls, especially all those years ago, the Boones celebrated Tobias, occasionally teasing him in the same, good-natured way they teased each other, and Tobias was encouraged to fully bloom into his true self.
Now, I keep in touch with Tobias almost as much as I do with Dakota. When I’m on the road or feeling overwhelmed by life, our group chats are often the one thing that keep me sane .
Betty-Ann was always thrilled by Tobias’s flair in the kitchen. Slightly dismayed that none of her other children had any interest in cooking, baking or spending much time indoors at all except to eat and sometimes sleep, Tobias was always creating culinary masterpieces. But he would never follow the recipes. He always embellished and made them his own. So instead of homemade biscuits, we’d have “mixed berry cornmeal biscuit shortcakes with macerated fresh berries served with homemade vanilla and lemon zest whipped cream,” or something equally over the top.
We always knew that one day he’d become a chef or start his own restaurant, so I’m excited to hear more about his and Dakota’s plans for their “farm-luxe chic” restaurant and B&B.
I notice then there’s a little girl sitting quietly at the table, coloring. She watches me with huge blue eyes as Tobias releases me from his hug.
“This must be Daisy,” I say gently.
Tobias goes over and picks the little girl up. She wraps her arms around his neck. “Daisy,” he says, “this is Roxie. She used to practically live with us every summer when we were all about the same age as you are now. Roxie, meet Daisy.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Daisy.”
Daisy leans closer to Tobias and whispers, “She’s pretty.”
Tobias grins. “Yes, she is. And she’s nice too. Do you want to show Roxie what you’re coloring? ”
The little girl nods and I sit down next to her as Tobias places her carefully back in her chair.
“This is so beautiful, Daisy,” I say. She’s coloring a picture of a butterfly. “Is pink your favorite color?” It’s a safe guess, since the entire butterfly is pink.
She looks up at me with those wide blue eyes and barely nods.
“Mine too,” I tell her.
She notices the necklace I’m wearing. A gold butterfly, as it turns out.
“I like your necklace,” she whispers.
The necklace was a gift from a Nashville jewelry designer who randomly sent it to me. I’m definitely not an influencer. When I have time to post on social media at all, it’s usually something to do with the band, or my brothers, or being on tour. Occasionally I’ll post things about my life on the road or a good restaurant recommendation or a brand of clothing I like. I don’t have time to do more with my platform than that, but I do have a huge following. I’m sure most of the people who follow me are hoping to catch a glimpse of whichever brother they’re most in love with. Last I checked, I had around seven million followers.
People and companies often send me gifts or products they’re hoping I’ll promote. My assistants go through all the stuff and, if they think it’s something I’ll like, they’ll show it to me. They put the rest of it aside and at this point most of my spare room in Kade’s building off Broadway is full of these gifts .
My assistant showed me this necklace a few months ago and I loved it. It was made by a woman who handcrafts one-off pieces of jewelry. At the time, I put it on and posted about it. The woman later reached out to my assistant and told her to thank me. She’d sold out of every piece she’s ever made and has enough commissions to buy herself a house.
I haven’t worn the necklace for a while but saw it on my dresser as I was leaving this morning and, on a whim, put it on.
But now, I think there’s someone who likes the necklace even more than I do. I reach for the clasp and take it off. “I think it would look prettier on you, Daisy. Would you like to wear it?”
Her blue eyes get even wider. She nods.
I put the necklace carefully around her neck and do up the clasp. “There. It’s yours now.”
Tobias and Dakota have both watched this exchange and Tobias winks at me. “What do you say to Rox, Daisy?”
“Thank you.” Daisy holds my hand. “Do you want to help me color? I have two pink crayons.”
“I’d love to.”
She hands me one and we color as the lively conversation swirls around us.
Leo is still giving us a play-by-play of the inferno Luke caused with the barbecue.
It’s like slipping into a warm embrace, this easy, familiar banter that feels like it’s part of my soul.
Tobias, always the peacekeeper, chimes in from where he’s gone back to his task of meticulously chopping vegetables and dumping them into a boiling pot. “Boys, there’s only one way to settle this. A cook-off. We vote on it. The panel’s decisions are final. Loser does dishes for a week.”
“Deal,” both brothers say in unison, and we all laugh again, knowing full well this “cook-off” will be another epic Boone family event—which will probably involve flames, charred ribs and possibly wrestling.
“We’ll do it in your new kitchen, Tobe,” Leo suggests.
“You absolutely will not go anywhere near my new kitchen,” Tobias says. “That kitchen is my new sanctuary and I do not want it being burned to the ground before we’ve even welcomed our first guests.”
Betty-Ann wields her wooden spoon like a conductor’s baton. “You also won’t be doing it in this kitchen,” she adds. “You can have a ‘barbecue-off’ and you can do it outside. Now why don’t the two of you channel all that energy you seem to have for bickering and use it to do something productive, like set the table.”
Dakota rolls her eyes playfully. “Mom, you know they’re allergic to anything that resembles housework.”
“Oh, I certainly do know it.” But the boys—or, more accurately, men —are dutifully getting the knives, forks and plates.
Even though Betty-Ann scolds her children, she obviously adores having them around her. I remember her saying when we were kids that she’d rather have her children making mischief at home than doing it somewhere else. “How are your brothers, Roxie? You still keeping them in line? You always did, even as a little girl.”
“They’re harder work now than they ever were as kids,” I laugh.
Leo leans against the counter next to me. “Seriously, Rox, the boys’ latest album is all anyone can talk about around here. You’re turning them into legends.”
“I just manage schedules and egos. The music is all them.”
“And you couldn’t have done the same for us, huh?” Luke smirks, kissing Betty-Ann’s cheek as he passes her, carrying a stack of plates. “You can manage my ego anytime.”
I get up to help.
“You stay right there,” Dakota orders me. “That butterfly needs more pink. Seriously though, Rox, you should listen to these three. They’ve got a local following now.”
This gets my full attention. “Who does?”
“Nah,” Leo elbows Dakota. “We’re just amateurs compared to the Tucker boys.”
“You guys play?” We all used to play instruments and sing together when we were kids, putting on little concerts that we demanded the adults listen to. Dakota, Tobias and I were mostly banging on things just for fun, but the older boys, from both families, all had talent .
“You’ll have to listen to them while you’re here.” Tobias wipes his hands on a dishcloth. “We want to hear more about your glamorous life on the road, Rox. It must be wild watching the band play to sold out stadiums every night.”
Wild doesn’t even come close to describing it. “Honestly, it’s hard work. There are parts of it I wouldn’t change for the world, but it’s also…crowded and noisy and there are nights, especially on the tour bus, that do get tiring. Not that I’m complaining. It’s amazing how much everything has taken off. We’re enjoying it while it lasts.”
Dakota puts a glass of milk in front of Daisy. “Roxie’s three brothers are in a band,” Dakota tells her. “They’re really famous. You’ve probably heard Uncle Nate play their songs.”
“He likes to sing them,” Daisy says.
“Nate sings their songs?” For some reason, the thought charms me.
“Of course,” Tobias says. “Everyone around here does.”
“Everyone in the whole damn country, more like,” Leo says, handing out beers. “Rox? Beer? Wine?”
“Sure. Wine would be great, thanks.” I don’t usually drink but what the hell, I’m on vacation for the weekend.
After a few more minutes of chatter flowing round the table and Daisy quietly observing as I open my bag to check a message that just vibrated on my phone, her small hand reaches for the tube of lipstick I just pulled from my purse, her fingers barely touching it .
“What color is that?” she asks, her voice full of fascination.
I smile down at her and pass her the tube to examine. “It’s called Pink Kisses.”
“Can I put some on?” she asks soulfully, her eyes like pools. How could anyone refuse this kid anything?
“How about just a tiny bit,” I suggest, and she nods seriously as if we’re sharing an important secret.
I dab a little on my finger and touch it to her lips. I’m a little shocked when she climbs onto my lap, where she whispers into my ear, “My Mommy used to wear pink lipstick.”
Dakota and Tobias are both watching Daisy do this, like it’s unusual.
She softly fingers one of the shell buttons on my cowgirl shirt, which is a delicate pink and white plaid.
“I got this at one of my favorite stores in Nashville. Same with the boots.” Daisy glances at my boots, which are brown suede with pink-stitched flowers. Daisy gasps when she sees the bright colored stitching. These boots are without a doubt the best damn thing I own. Daisy clearly has taste.
“I’m going to ask Uncle Nate for some boots for my birthday,” she says softly, her smile with its faintest dab of Pink Kisses. “Do they have pink ones?”
“I’m sure they do. You could get a matching hat too.”
Daisy’s eyes light up at the thought.
“You already asked Uncle Nate for a pony, didn’t you?” Tobias laughs .
“I’ll need boots to ride my pony.”
“Of course. My mistake.” Tobias grins at me. “It’s good to have you back, Rox. Lou and Earl are beyond excited to see you.”
“I’m surprised Lou didn’t come barreling over here the minute she heard your truck on the driveway,” Luke says.
“She and Earl are at her sewing circle’s annual dinner event,” Betty-Ann informs him. “She said she could hardly wait to see Roxie but she’s on the social committee and it was too late to cancel.”
“Now that is a level of restraint I didn’t realize your aunt had,” Dakota laughs. “She talks about the four of you coming home on practically a daily basis.”
“I’m excited to see them both.”
“You need to get the boys out here again soon, Rox,” Leo says. “We need a proper Tucker-Boone reunion.”
“Absolutely. Maybe we could do something for Thanksgiving. Although Kade has his solo tour and Travis has been hard at work on some new songs. But I’ll see if I can pin them down.”
“It’s been ages since we’ve seen Travis and Vaughn.” Dakota puts a gorgeous, artistic arrangement of wildflowers in the middle the table.
“They’re rockstars now, Dee,” Luke points out. “You wouldn’t catch me hanging out here with you country bumpkins if I had thousands of screaming fans throwing their panties at me every night. ”
“Luke William Boone,” Betty-Ann warns, her eyes darting to Daisy.
Luke holds his hands up in apology. “I just mean, I get it. They’ve got bigger fish to fry now.”
“Well, Roxie managed to make it back,” Dakota says.
“That’s because she’s missed the undeniable charm of the Boone brothers, isn’t that right?” Leo comes up behind me and plants a kiss on my cheek which makes everyone, including Daisy, laugh.
“Y’all know I’m only here for Betty-Ann’s cooking.”
Tobias clears his throat.
“And yours, of course, Tobe. That goes without saying.”
“Honey, ignore my boys,” Betty-Ann says. “We’re all just glad you’re home.”
Outside, there’s the sound of tires on gravel. Daisy hears it and lights up with excitement, climbing down off my lap and running toward the door to peer out the window.
“It’s Uncle Nate!” She pushes the screen door open and disappears out the door.
My heart skips a beat at his name.
I knew there was a good chance I’d run into him, but… now?
Seeing the others was like a homecoming, talking to them in the kitchen like slipping back into the long-ago, comfortable version of myself that I’d almost forgotten existed.
But just the mention of Nate’s name does something weird to my insides. Am I expected to sit here and eat dinner with him too, like nothing ever happened and he hasn’t held onto a big chunk of my heart all these years?
My stomach is fluttering and my heartbeat is in my throat. I do my best to keep myself calm, to stop the heat from rising to my cheeks and the secrets from writing themselves all over my face.