Chapter 26
“You’re pregnant?” Tish practically shrieks once we’re in the car.
I flinch, covering my ears. “Jeez, I’m so glad I waited until we were in here to tell you.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again like a shocked goldfish, her expression a strange blend of awe and confusion. “I mean—I just…wow. Holy shit, Charlotte.”
“I have to find him,” I say, the words tumbling out with more urgency than I expect. “If nothing else, I have to let him know about the baby.”
Tish’s eyes soften, but the hesitance lingers in her voice. “Babe, I know that’s what you want, but it’s been months. Don’t you think if he wanted to find you, he would’ve by now?”
She doesn’t mean it to be cruel. She says it like someone trying to save me from crashing again.
“Maybe,” I whisper, staring out the windshield. “Or maybe he’s been just as lost as I’ve been. Maybe he never even got my letters.”
She’s quiet for a long beat .
Then she exhales, turns the key in the ignition, and says, “Okay. We need a plan. And lunch. I’d say alcohol,” She side-eyes me, and the corner of her mouth lifts. “But that’s off the table now.”
“For a while,” I reply, smiling for the first time in what feels like ages.
The fog that’s choked me for weeks is lifting. For the first time, there’s a crack in the gloom, a single thread of light cutting through. I have purpose. I have drive.
We stop for ginger ale and head home. Tish throws together a salad while I force myself to eat. It stays down, which feels like a small miracle. We clear the dishes and crash on the couch. I grab my laptop and open it, the familiar click of the keys grounding me in a way nothing else has lately.
“Where do I even start?”
“We could try the record label,” Tish says, leaning over my shoulder. “See if there’s a media contact or something.”
“Smart.”
As I open my browser, a pop-up notification flashes across the top of my screen. A Sam Stone alert. I set it up weeks ago, hoping for any shred of connection. But this one…
My heart stops.
“Charlotte?” Tish’s voice sharpens. “What is it?”
I swallow, staring at the headline like it’s a mirage. “He’s going on tour.”
Her brows lift. “Okay?”
“A farewell tour,” I say, spinning the laptop toward her. “It’s called Coming Home. Tickets go on sale today, and the first show in in two weeks!”
She still looks confused, so I scroll down and read the tour stops aloud. “Nashville. Oklahoma City. Denver. Broken Heart Creek. And—” My voice catches. “L.A.”
Recognition flickers in her eyes.
“Tish, this is a sign,” I whisper. “It’s everywhere I’ve ever lived. And places that matter to him.”
Understanding finally lands. Her mouth opens slowly. “Oh my God. This is it. This is how you find him.”
Tears sting my eyes, but this time, they don’t fall from despair. They fall from hope. Real, pulsing, terrifying hope. And I know exactly what I have to do.
Tish and I are poised like snipers the moment the tickets go live. Laptops open. Phones in hand. Refresh buttons abused.
“Nashville! I got us Nashville!” Tish practically screams, fingers flying across her keyboard like her life depends on it.
“I’ve got Oklahoma City!” I shout, heart thundering in my chest.
“Denver’s dicey—damn, not as close—but I snagged two! We might need to resale hunt for better seats though.”
“I got Broken Heart Creek!” I yell, nearly knocking over my water. “I got it!”
We’re breathless, beaming at each other like we’ve just hacked the Pentagon. But there’s one left. The big one.
L.A.
The final stop. His last show. The one that has to count.
As we wait for the L.A. ticket drop, Tish glances over at me, softer now. “Why do you think he’s ending it here and not… you know, Broken Heart Creek?”
I swallow, then murmur, “Because I’m here.”
She places a hand over her heart. “This is some damn Nicholas Sparks shit.” She wipes a pretend tear. “I hope they cast someone hot as hell to play me in the movie. ”
I laugh, but my eyes are locked on the screen. “One minute,” I whisper, nerves thrumming.
The page loads. Then it lags. Then nothing.
“No, no, no!”
“Wait!” Tish shrieks. “There’s one left. Front row!”
“GRAB IT!”
She types like a demon possessed, smacking her keyboard with the ferocity of someone auditioning for a fast-paced courtroom drama.
“Got it!” she shrieks, and we both explode into screams, jumping up and down in my apartment like we’ve just won the damn lottery.
“Oh my god!” she cries. “You’re really doing this!”
“I am.” My voice shakes with adrenaline, hope, and something that feels dangerously close to love.
Then it hits me. I grab her hand, eyes wide.
“Oh my god, we have to go shopping.”
“Oh babe,” she grins. “We’re going to dress for destiny.”
We’re still breathless with laughter as we lock up the apartment and head for Tish’s car. The sunshine feels brighter, the air lighter like the world knows something big is coming.
“What does one even wear to a country music concert these days?” she asks, already scrolling through her phone. “Oh my god, that’s progressive.”
She tilts the screen toward me, and I blink at a photo of a woman wearing denim short-shorts, a fringe bra, and cowboy boots that look like they cost more than my rent.
I snort. “Yeah, no. I’m sticking with the holy trinity. Jeans, t-shirt, and boots.”
“Classic. Timeless. Safe.” She raises a brow. “I, however, am going for bold. We need you noticed, babe. You’re not just there to attend this tour. You’re there to rewrite fate. ”
We spend the rest of the day on a shopping blitz worthy of its own reality show. Western boutiques. Trendy pop-ups. Even a vintage resale shop where Tish nearly cries over a rhinestone-studded leather jacket.
By the time we finally get back to the apartment, the backseat and trunk of her car are bursting with shopping bags. Boots. Hats. Dresses. Accessories I didn’t even know existed.
We unload like two giddy outlaws returning from a heist.
Tish eyes me as we carry bags inside. “How are you going to explain this cross-country love mission to your new job?”
I shrug, a grin tugging at my lips. “I’m going to be honest. If they won’t let me take the time off…”
She gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
“I will. I’ll resign if I have to.”
Tish stops in her tracks, eyes wide with admiration. “Legend.”
The next morning I stand outside my boss’s office, hands sweating as I smooth the front of my blouse for the fifth time. It’s now or never.
I knock.
“Come in.”
The door swings open and I step inside. Erin looks up from her laptop, eyes crinkling behind her glasses.
“Charlotte. Everything okay?”
I nod, then immediately shake my head. “Kind of. I was hoping to talk to you about something important. ”
She gestures to the chair across from her. “You’ve got my full attention.”
I sit, taking a breath. “I know I’ve only been here a short time, and I’m grateful to be part of this team. This job has grounded me in a way I didn’t know I needed.”
Erin tilts her head slightly. “But?”
“There’s someone I love,” I say quietly. “Someone I lost under messy circumstances. And now he’s on a farewell tour. And if I don’t go, if I don’t try, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
She watches me, unreadable.
“I’m not asking for forever,” I add quickly. “Just two weeks off. Unpaid if necessary. I’ll work late when I’m back, take on extra assignments—whatever it takes.”
Erin leans back in her chair, fingers tapping against her coffee mug.
“You know,” she says slowly, “when I was your age, I let someone slip away because I didn’t speak up. I buried myself in work and told myself that was enough.” She gives me a small smile. “It wasn’t.”
I blink.
“Two weeks,” she says. “No need to make up hours, and it won’t come out of your vacation days. You’re doing something brave.”
My heart stutters. “Really?”
“Go find him, Charlotte. If he’s worth this much to you, then he’s worth the risk.”
“Thank you. Seriously.” My voice cracks. “Thank you.”
Erin grins. “You’d better send pictures from the road. And bring me back a souvenir. I’m a big fan of Sam Stone.”
I blink. “You know who he is?”
“Honey, anyone who’s a fan of country music knows who he is. Now, go get your man. ”
I finish up my work for the day and head home.
My suitcase lies open on my bed, half-packed with denim, flannel, and the soft pink dress Tish swore would “melt a cowboy's spine.” I fold it carefully, pressing it between jeans and a denim jacket, then sit back and stare at the pile of clothes like they hold the answers I still don’t have.
My hands rest on my stomach that’s still flat, but full of promise.
This baby.
This love.
This impossible second chance.
Tish peeks into the room. “You okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not entirely sure. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something this badly.”
She walks in, sitting beside me, her voice soft. “It’s okay to be scared, Charlotte.”
“I’m terrified,” I admit, the words tumbling out like I’ve been holding them too long. “What if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if he hates me for leaving? What if… what if he’s moved on?”
Tish places her hand over mine. “What if he’s still writing you love songs in the dark?”
That makes me laugh. It also makes me cry.
“I left that ranch thinking I was doing the right thing. That I had no choice. But it’s been months, and I haven’t breathed right since.” I swipe a tear from my cheek. “I just want him to look at me the way he used to. Like I was his whole damn world.”
Tish pulls me into a hug. “Then go remind him you still are.”
We finish packing together as if we’re folding hope into every corner. She makes sure I have my new ID, my ticket printouts, and snacks for the flight because “pregnancy cravings don’t mess around.”
When I finally zip the suitcase shut, there’s a lump in my throat the size of Wyoming.
Tomorrow, I fly to Nashville.
Tomorrow, I find Sam Stone.
Tomorrow, I try to win him and our future back.
No matter what.