Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Levi Hawkins woke in what he immediately decided was the perfect way to wake up.
There was no alarm blaring. The sun was gently shining through his window. There was frost on the window, which said that the world outside was cold, but Levi’s bedroom was warm, his bed soft. It was the epitome of coziness.
And when he looked over at the clock, he saw that it was a little after eight in the morning.
That part made him laugh out loud. When, in his previous life, had he ever gotten to bed early enough that he could wake naturally at eight, feeling fully rested?
Never, that was when.
Levi knew that his career as a country music star in Nashville was the kind of thing that other people dreamed of. Heck, it had been the thing he had dreamed of for years and years, both when he’d been a kid plunking out his first few chords and when he’d been a rising talent.
But in the last few years, he’d found that his dream come true felt more like a millstone around his neck than anything else.
He’d put on smiles for each performance.
He’d gone on stage and played his songs, the ones that had made him successful.
He’d thanked fans for coming out, had signed autographs and shaken hands.
But there wasn’t any heart in it.
Initially, he had actually gone to a doctor, concerned that his general low spirits had been an indication that he had one of those crazy rare diseases, the kind that mostly only existed in medical dramas on television.
Something with an eight-syllable name that only one doctor treated, and that guy lived on a Swiss mountain and would only treat Levi in his remote clinic on a snowy peak. That kind of thing.
Dr. Lennox, though, had given him a patient, understanding look as he’d described his symptoms.
“Levi,” she said, shaking her silver head. “You sound burned out.”
He’d frowned at her, not comprehending.
“But how do I… treat that?” he asked.
This time, she smiled.
“You rest,” she told him. “There’s no better medicine in the world.”
It took a certain amount of stubbornness to find your way in the cutthroat music industry, so Levi, in true form, resisted this diagnosis at first. He didn’t need to rest. It wasn’t even like his job was that hard!
Yes, he played almost every night, often until the wee hours of the morning, and then there were meetings with the label, his agent, with other artists whom he liked to mentor…
But some people worked in jobs that had them hauling boxes for twelve hours a day. Or rushing through hospitals to save people after car accidents. Or reporting in war zones!
He was just a guy with a guitar. What did he have to complain about?
But the longer it went on, the less he could deny it. He couldn’t write new songs. Playing the old ones felt like a chore.
Making the decision to step back had honestly been the hardest part.
Once he realized that this was what he needed, however, he found that his team was incredibly supportive.
They’d made all the calls necessary to get him some time away from the limelight.
Indeed, they’d been extremely gracious about it, considering that he was still under contract with his record company.
He supposed that it was in their best interests to get him back in shipshape too, though.
It wasn’t as though the uninspired songs he was currently producing were going to set any sales records.
All that was left was for Levi to pick where he wanted to go.
That had been kind of exciting and kind of daunting. The world was wide, after all, and Levi was a Tennessee boy born and bred. He’d never lived very far from Nashville.
In the end, he had just browsed real estate websites until he found something that appealed to him. And then, when he looked into the town where this adorable little seaside house resided, he’d fallen properly in love with Magnolia Shore, Massachusetts.
With another laugh, Levi hauled himself up to a seated position, looking around this space that was now all his.
Admittedly, the interior décor still left something to be desired.
He’d gotten the bed set up right away, but that was pretty much the only thing he had managed since getting to town a few days earlier.
He didn’t have a dresser or a couch. He just had his bed, two bags of clothes that were half-unpacked on the floor, and his guitar.
What else did he need, though?
Well, coffee, actually, but fortunately he’d gotten a machine the day prior and had purchased a bag of beans at an adorable little local café that had smelled like heaven inside.
He pulled on some warmer clothes, since the lack of furnishing included a lack of carpeting, and it was downright chilly in here.
Also, winters were a lot colder in Massachusetts than they were in Nashville.
But an extra sweater and a warm pair of woolen socks quickly solved that problem, as did the steaming cup of freshly brewed joe in his hands a few minutes later. He inhaled the comforting aroma and gazed out the window over his kitchen sink.
Most of his house was private. Levi had reached a medium level of fame, and even though his face wasn’t plastered on billboards or anything, he’d learned to have the same healthy desire for privacy as did any public figure.
Most of the house had big windows, which looked out over a sloping hill that was covered in trees.
But the back of the house looked out at the town, giving the house a perfect sense of being remote and being close to people. He’d come to Magnolia Shore to take some time away, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be isolated.
He liked that he could stand here and see people walking on the street. He watched a person with a large golden lab exit the Sandy Paws Pet Shop, and he could see the brick siding of the local hardware store.
It was perfect, he thought as he saw the man with the dog stop to greet a woman walking with two young children. They all apparently knew one another, at least judging from the happy way the dog and the children approached one another with familiar joy.
Levi smiled as he turned away from the window and went to grab his guitar, which he took to the front stoop, playing to the yard just like he’d done when he was a kid.
He strummed aimlessly, pausing here and there to take a sip of the coffee. No song lyrics were floating into his head, but that was okay. It felt good to play with no purpose except for enjoying the music for the sake of the music.
So he sat, and sipped, and strummed.
It was a lovely way to spend a morning.
He had a really good feeling about Magnolia Shore.