Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Idon’t know what to do,” I admitted as George and I slowed our horses to a stop. He slid out of his saddle and I followed suit.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Take all the bullshit away, all the what ifs, the how comes, the why me’s, and just get to the point. Do you want to go to Nashville to see Stetson perform or would you rather not?”
I met my eyebrows together in the center of my face.
“I’m serious. Instead of getting caught up in everything else, you should figure out what you really want and then you can figure everything else out after that.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his Levi’s as we perched on top of the best hill in all of Rolling Meadows.
The hill was cushioned with tall grass that rolled over the clearing like a wave in the ocean.
The springtime air had arrived in Quincey Falls, bringing with it the scent of sweet blooms, signaling nature’s reawakening.
The peacefulness of it all, including George, was like a warm hug that felt like returning home after being gone for a long time.
“When you put it like that…” I said, lingering on my own thoughts.
It had been a few weeks since Stetson found me at Haddie Jo’s, and every second since had been spent trying to decide what I wanted to do next.
I had decided to finish the article, more for Donna than anyone else, but that was about the only thing I’d landed on.
“I’d like to go to Nashville. At least just to support him like he asked me to. ”
George cocked his head toward me. “Okay, so what’s the problem then, darlin’?”
“Ugh. It just doesn’t feel that easy.”
“It’s as easy as you let it be,” he argued.
“Which I know for you is a challenge. You’re always trying to make your life more difficult by not allowing yourself a chance to be happy and enjoy it.
Instead, you focus all your energy on trying to prove to someone or something that you shouldn’t get to be happy because of one decision, one that you made to the best of your ability.
So, if you’re not happy, it’s not because you don’t deserve it, it’s because you’re not allowing yourself to be.
That’s not up to anyone else. At some point you gotta let that shit go or accept it, Scarlett. ”
His honesty was a little more harsh than normal, but in the most tender way.
And for the first time maybe ever, I thought his words might’ve actually cracked the shell that so heavily guarded my heart.
As I gazed out into a field I’d stared at so many times before, everything felt different, lighter, like maybe the chains that had held me in place for so long were getting old and rusty, making it easier for them to break apart.
“I need to tell Stetson about the adoption. I mean, I want to tell him,” I blurted.
“I think that’s a great place to start,” he confirmed. “Well, maybe see if he still wants you to come to the concert first, and then you can plan on when to tell him while you’re there.” George peered over at me with a big ol’ goofy smile.
“Ha. Fair enough.” I nodded.
He’d still want me to come, right? It had only been a few weeks since I saw him last, and after everything he said to me, he wouldn’t just change his mind, would he?
“See how easy that was?” he asked.
I sarcastically grinned. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, now that I’ve solved all of your problems, I better get to solving mine, starting with the pesky little calves that keep escaping,” he said, motioning in the distance.
I didn’t see calves, but I saw little black specks resembling pepper at least a mile away.
“Thanks, George. I love you.”
“Love you too, darlin’.”
George sprung onto the back of his horse, and I yanked my phone out of my back pocket.
Me:
Is the invitation still on the table?
Three little dots appeared almost immediately, making my heart dance in my chest, mimicking the dots.
Stetson:
To Nashville? Of course it is.
A breath released from my mouth, deflating my entire body.
Me:
Then I’ll be there. Send me the details and I’ll see you in two weeks.
Stetson:
Just be at the little private airport south of town by noon on the second.
Me:
What? The airport?
Stetson:
Just be there.
That might’ve been easy, per George’s definition, but unfortunately, I think that was the only part of this whole damn thing that was going to go that smoothly.
“Do you have everything?” Maggie’s voice sharpened next to me.
I buzzed through the mental checklist I’d already run through at least a million times while standing at the back of my Jeep, staring into the trunk.
“My outfit, makeup, boots, and clear purse are all in my line of sight. Anything else can be bought in Nashville if needed,” I answered. “Maggie.” I stopped. My Jeep was not even in a parking spot but perched right next to a literal plane. “This whole thing is wild.”
“Yes. This is in fact a little bat-shit crazy…” Her eyes widened like a little kid on Christmas morning as she gave the situation a once-over. “But what do you expect from a man like Stetson Walker who is trying to do whatever he can to win over a girl?”
“Who said he’s trying to win me over?”
Maggie’s eyes practically rolled out of their sockets. “Oh, I don’t know, the private plane that’s sitting only a few feet away from us, ready to whisk you away to Nashville for a concert…”
“I told you, I’m going to support Stetson as a friend,” I emphasized.
“You keep tellin’ yourself whatever’s necessary to make sure your ass gets on that plane, but you can’t lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself. And once you realize that it’s okay to give yourself a chance, you’ll see that giving him a chance is even easier.”
“Everyone keeps saying that everything is going to be easy, but all I can think about is the major bomb I’m going to drop on him and how that might make things not as easy as everyone thinks.” I inhaled slowly, the smell of fresh air dancing through my nose, and shut my eyes.
“Maybe. Or maybe he’ll understand, just like the rest of us. Hell, maybe it’ll make him understand you even better. Because once someone knows what you’ve been through, it’s a lot easier to understand why you are the way you are.”
Her comment had imaginary bubbles popping in my belly, because maybe she was right. Maybe he would understand and then I could explain everything, tell him that I had never felt this way about anyone, ever.
“Ms. Carson, can I get your bags for you?” an older gentleman asked, walking down the steps of the plane and yanking me from the clouds.
“Oh, yes, thank you!” I responded.
I hugged Maggie, looped my purse over my shoulder, and ascended the steps into the plane. “Well, either way, it looks like I’m committed now,” I shouted. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, blowing a kissing in my direction.
The tiniest spurt of electricity flickered inside of me, implying that maybe lost among the fear was a bit of excitement.
I settled into the plush, sand-colored leather seat, giving myself a moment to take it all in. I didn’t get long before my phone pinged.
Stetson:
Harry said you’re getting ready to take off, so I just wanted you to know I’ll be here to pick you up when you land. I’m really excited that you decided to come. Fly safe.
Me:
I’m excited too.
Me:
And you don’t have to thank me, I’m happy to be coming.
Me:
See you soon.
And I was happy, among about one thousand other feelings too.
“Ms. Carson, are you ready?” the older gentleman, who I now knew as Harry, asked from the pilot’s seat. “The flight shouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes or so, and I do believe Mr. Walker will be waiting for us.”
I smiled, listening to him repeat what Stetson had just texted me.
“Sounds great.”
“All right, well, we’d better get going. It sounds like you have a show to catch.”
Stetson was right; his job did have perks. The way I just got to Nashville in under an hour proved that.
But despite the once-in-a-lifetime experience, I spent the entire flight running through every possible scenario that could come from this little venture, and ninety-seven percent of them ended terribly, so that was a bummer.
Thankfully, out of all of those shitty situations, most of them were highly unlikely.
Like the one where I imagined Stetson just not showing up to the airport to pick me up and telling me I was no longer welcome at the concert tonight.
Anxiety, man, it really got the best of you.
“Smooth flight?” Harry asked from the cockpit after sailing us to a complete stop.
I threw a thumbs-up in the air. “It was perfect, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I peered out the oval window to my left, toward where an old but pristine red Ford truck sat stationary near one of the hangars. I didn’t see Stetson, but I had a gut feeling that truck belonged to him.
The flight might have been over, but the rollercoaster inside of me said we were just getting started.
“I’ll get your stuff, you go ahead,” Harry said politely.
“Thank you.”
The sun leaked inside the cabin, casting a yellow glow so bright I shielded my eyes as I climbed down the steps.
“Hi.” Stetson’s voice reached my ears before I even reached the pavement.
“Hi,” I said.
The sun was even brighter outside; I used my hand as a makeshift visor to be able to see him.
He looked better than the last time I saw him.
His eyes well-rested, his hair freshly styled—underneath a baseball hat of course, and clean shaven, only his chocolate-colored mustache remained, covering that plump upper lip of his.
He enveloped me in a hug before I even knew what was happening.
I willingly squeezed back, finding the comfort in his strong arms undeniable.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
The words came so easy.
Easy.
I chuckled softly. George would be proud.
It felt like nothing had changed between us, in the sense that everything felt comfortable, but the way that I never wanted to let him go told me that actually a lot had changed.