19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Kayla
The bell over the door jingles as I step into Patty’s, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries wrapping around me. I breathe it in, letting the warmth settle deep in my bones. This place, this diner… it isn’t somewhere I’ll ever forget, nor will I be able to stay away from it for long. Not just for the food or the people—but for what it has come to mean to me.
It’s an odd feeling. It isn’t as bittersweet as I expected. I’m just too relieved, too excited. Content.
I’m leaving. I’m following my heart. I still can’t believe it.
My stomach flips at the thought, but the second I picture Logan—his voice low and steady in my head, saying, Come with me—I know I’m making the right choice.
Patty is behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, her silver hair pinned up in her usual messy bun. She glances up, her eyes twinkling when she sees me.
“Well, if it isn’t Kayla Smith. Definitely in here early for her shift and not for any other reason, right?”
I smile, but there’s a lump in my throat. “Yeah. There just might be…”
She eyes me closer, tilting her head. “Hmm… you’re not a mess right now, I mean, other than your nerves, but that could just be from talking to me…”
I shift on my feet, nervous energy buzzing in my veins. “I need to talk to you.”
Her expression softens. “Ahh, okay.” She leans on the counter, studying me. “I’m ‘bout to lose my new staff member so soon, eh sugar?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I’m leaving, Patty.”
She sighs, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “I’m surprised you bothered to come in here and see little old me. If I was your age, there’d be nothing but a cloud of dust behind me.”
A breathless laugh escapes me. “I’m going on tour with Logan. I—” I shake my head, a smile breaking free. “I love him. I have for as long as I can remember, and I—God, I just can’t do distance. Not with him. Not when I know where I belong.”
Her lips part in surprise before a slow, wide grin spreads across her face. “Well, it’s about damn time.”
Relief rushes through me, and I exhale a shaky laugh. “I wanted to tell you first. You gave me a chance when I needed it most. When I was lost and had no idea what the hell I was doing.” My throat tightens, and I blink hard against the sting behind my eyes. “I’ll never forget that, Patty. Ever.”
She watches me for a long moment, something soft and knowing in her gaze. Then, before I can react, she grabs my hand and tugs me toward one of the booths. “Come on, sit with me a minute.”
I follow, sliding into the worn leather seat as she pours us both a cup of tea. The scent of cinnamon and honey drifts up with the steam, wrapping around me like a hug.
“You’re doing the right thing, sugar,” she murmurs, wrapping her hands around her mug. “It’s not gonna be easy. But also, young miss, stop talking like this is goodbye forever. We kin now.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Go. Be happy. And when you come back, you better have stories to tell me.”
A tear slips free, and I swipe at it quickly. “I don’t know if I’d be able to stay away from your cooking for too long.”
She chuckles, swatting at me playfully. “Damn right. I expect postcards. And I want a picture of you and that boy on a stage somewhere, looking stupidly in love.”
I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “Deal.”
She nods, satisfied, then jerks her chin toward the door. “Well? What the hell are you still doing here?”
I hesitate for just a second longer, soaking in this moment, this place, this woman who has become like family. Then, with a deep breath, I stand, my heart light.
And just like that, I’m running out the door, ready for the next chapter of my life.
I throw another sweater into my suitcase, heart hammering against my ribs as I zip it up.
This is real.
I’m really doing this.
The tiny room that’s been my safe haven for months suddenly feels too small, too temporary. I glance around taking in the creaky wooden floorboards, the window that rattles when the wind picks up. The bed where Logan and I had… it gives me flutters down low just going through the memories.
God, I’m going to miss this place.
But I’m ready to go.
A knock at the door makes me pause, and before I can answer, Clay pushes it open. His brown hair is even messier than usual, and his green eyes sweep over my suitcase before settling on me, lips quirking.
“So, you’re really doing it?”
I nod, a nervous laugh slipping out. “I’m one hundred percent committed at this point.”
He leans against the door frame, arms crossed. “You packed everything?”
I glance at my overstuffed bag. “Define everything.”
Clay snorts. “Whatever you don’t pack, we can FedEx to you or whatever, so there is nothing to worry about.”
I roll my eyes, shoving a pair of sneakers into my backpack. “Oh, shut up. This is not going to be forever, and I don’t care what twists or turns happen, you and Dean are, as Patty said to me, kin. So, I will expect updates. I want to know all about your love life, Dean’s, and his… friends…”
He grins, but then his expression softens. “I’m happy for you, Kayla. Really. I know Dean is too… you were kind of a good influence on him.”
Emotion tugs at my chest. “Thanks, Clay.”
Before the moment becomes too much—because I have absolutely cried enough for two lifetimes—Dean’s booming voice echoes from the hallway. “Am I going to get a goodbye, or are you just gonna sneak out?”
Smiling, I step past Clay and into the hall, where Dean stands with his arms crossed. His eyes are serious, but there’s something in them that makes my throat tighten.
I force a smirk. “Nope, not saying the ‘g’ word as it's cursed, plus I figured if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t get all weepy on me.”
Dean snorts. “Oh, please. If anyone’s crying, it’ll be you the second you realize tour life is just a bunch of sweaty guys, shitty food, and no sleep.”
I laugh, but the truth is, I might cry—because I’m really going to miss them.
I step forward and wrap my arms around his broad frame, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”
His hand lands on top of my head, ruffling my hair like I’m just a kid. “You ever need anything, you call me, got it?”
I nod against his chest, then pull back, eyes suspiciously damp.
Dean clears his throat, shifting his weight. “And don’t worry about Braden’s car. I’ll keep her in top shape until you and Logan come back for her.”
A lump forms in my throat at the mention of my brother’s Dodge Charger—the car Logan took when he came looking for me. The car that still smells like Braden when you sit inside.
I swallow hard. “Thank you. We’ll come pick it up after this leg of the tour. Logan is probably going to be all huffy, but I can hardly see over the steering wheel, and I am not buying a booster seat.”
Dean nods, expression unreadable, but I see the way his jaw tightens—the weight of what home really means lingering between us.
Clay claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, well, with that visual, I know what Santa is going to be bringing you for Christmas, shorty… shorty in the vertically challenged sense and not the… So, do you need a ride to the airport, or are you planning on dragging that suitcase all the way there yourself?”
I arch a brow. “How can I say no to that, Dr. Thompson?”
He shrugs. “I’m not a doctor yet.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go before I start bawling like a baby.”
Dean groans. “Get her out of here already. Too much estrogen in the air.”
Clay grabs my suitcase, throwing an arm around my shoulder as he leads me out. “C’mon then, let’s get you your rockstar.”
As we step outside, the morning air crisp around us, the excitement in my chest makes me feel fidgety.
I can’t believe it’s happening.
I’m going to him.
To my rockstar.