Chapter 20 #2
“That’s what old me would’ve done,” he says. “Made it big enough nobody could ignore. Made it beautiful enough I could call it love and not have to look too hard at what it was covering.”
The light hums above us. Somewhere in the walls, the house ticks as it settles.
“I’m not saying I got it right,” he says.
“But I didn’t come to Harmony Ridge to collect you.
I came because I couldn’t stand being the man who made you leave.
I walked from Lonesome Strings because I needed to know there was still one thing in me that couldn’t be bought.
I dropped the songs for free because the second I made money off apologizing to you, it became another way to use your pain.
I played the Whip because that place mattered before anyone knew my name, and because if you ever wanted to walk back into it, it needed to still be there. ”
He swallows hard. “And I’m building this house because I promised you when I had nothing. Then I got everything and acted like the promise was too small to matter.”
My chest aches so sharply I press a hand against it.
“If you say no,” he says, “I’ll finish it.
If you never sleep under this roof, I’ll finish it.
If you tell me you want the deed in your name and me gone from the county by morning, I’ll sign whatever you want and go.
And I’ll still keep the Whip alive as long as Hal lets me.
None of it was ever supposed to be a transaction. ”
I move my hand from my chest to my stomach without meaning to. Cade sees it. This time he doesn’t look away fast enough. His eyes drop, stop, and lift back to mine with something fragile breaking open behind them.
I turn toward the kitchen before he can ask. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I used to tell people on air that sorry is easy.”
“I know,” he says behind me.
“You listened?”
“To every word." He huffs a laugh. "Some nights, it was the only way I could get a wink of sleep. God, I've missed you so bad, Emmy Lou."
I close my eyes. I face him again.
“So tell me,” I say. “What happens next time?”
He frowns, not because he doesn’t understand, but because he does.
I take a step toward him. “When the next wildfire comes along. The next song. The next girl with a bright voice and a camera in her hand. The next room where everyone looks at you like you’re brilliant, hungry, and necessary.
” My voice starts to shake, but I don’t stop.
“What happens when I’m the boring thing at home?
When I’m tired? When I’m ordinary? When no one is clapping for you because you came home on time and asked me how my day was? ”
His face goes pale. I almost look away, but I don’t.
“What happens then, Cade?”
He breathes once. Twice. Then he says, “I come home.”
The words are simple enough that I almost miss them.
He takes one slow step forward, stopping well out of reach. “That’s the answer. I come home. Not because you ask the right way, not because you make it easy, and not because you’re shining bright enough to compete with the room. I come home because I know what it costs when I don’t.”
My eyes sting harder.
“I don’t get to act confused anymore,” he says. “I know what the wildfire is now. It wasn’t Melody, and it wasn’t music. It was me wanting a version of myself that didn’t have to be responsible to the person who knew me best.”
His voice roughens. “I don’t want that man back. I don’t miss him. He had stadiums, deals, and every door open, and he was empty enough to let his wife cry alone in a house with marble floors.”
I stare at him.
“I want ordinary with you,” he says. “I want boring with you. I want every version of home I was too stupid to recognize because I was waiting for it to feel like applause.”
His eyes hold mine. “You are my life.”
My throat closes. Cade looks wrecked by the words, as if saying them stripped something out of him and left only bone.
“It took me too long to know how true that was,” he says.
“But there’s no life without you. Take the career.
Take the awards. Take Lonesome Strings, Silver Creek, and every stage that ever made me feel like a king.
” His voice breaks. “Take you, Emmy? I’m nothing.
Not because of what you can do for me or what you make me, but because I don't want to live in a life without your voice, your touch.
Without your jokes and your smile. You're it, Emmy. You've always been it.”
The first sob comes out of me before I can catch it. His whole body jerks like he wants to come to me, but he doesn’t. He stands there and lets me cry without making my tears about what he needs.
I cover my mouth, but it doesn’t help. The sound gets through anyway, small and broken.
“I wanted to hate you,” I say.
“I deserved it."
“I did hate you sometimes.”
His eyes close. “Good.”
The sob that leaves me then is uglier. Honest.