Chapter 23
Ruby’s Biggest Fan
? Johnny and June - Heidi Newfield
Liam
As we’re packing up and preparing to head back to Oak Ridge, the media frenzy surrounding the case ramps up.
In a shocking move, Ruby’s former label releases a statement saying they will be appealing the verdict, even going so far as to accuse several witnesses of perjury.
Adam assures us that the threats are empty and the case will likely be thrown out, but he implores us to take Nico with us to Oak Ridge to ensure Ruby’s safety.
“Is this really necessary?” she asks, tossing the last of her clothes into the rolling bag.
“I’d feel better having him with us,” I admit. “I have to go back to work tomorrow, so I won’t be home to protect you if any reporters come sniffing around.”
“Fine. But where will he sleep? Connor’s already in the guest room.”
“Connor can move back to the Willow Creek Inn. Or, better yet, Lexington.” Just because I understand Connor better now doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven him for everything.
She pauses with her makeup case halfway to the suitcase, face pinched. “Wait. He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Um. Nothing.”
“Goldie…” I draw out the nickname suspiciously. “What do you know?”
“You should probably ask him yourself.” She zips the suitcase and hoists it off the bed before expanding the handle. “Let’s go.”
She walks straight past me out of the bedroom. I throw my head back and groan. Apparently, my brother has some explaining to do.
The front door creaks open and Aiden comes rushing down the hallway. “Dad! Ruby! You’re back!”
“Hey, buddy. Did you have fun with Uncle Connor?”
He nods. “We played with dinosaurs, and he taught Jerry how to high five!”
“Now this I’ve gotta see!” Ruby ruffles his hair. “Missed you, little man.”
Aiden hugs her and takes her by the hand, dragging her down the hallway to his room. She glances back at me and shrugs.
Nico comes in behind me with his duffel bag in hand.
Connor rounds the corner at the same time. “Welcome home, bro—” He freezes in the entryway, blinking rapidly.
“You good?” I ask.
He shakes himself out of the stupor. “Who’s the Michele Morrone look-a-like and why is he in your house?”
Nico swipes a hand through his hair, keeping his expression blank. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile.
“This is Nico. He’s Ruby’s bodyguard.”
“Right. Is he… staying here?” Connor slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.
“Just until the media shitstorm dies down. You’ll have to move back to the inn.”
Nico shakes his head and scrubs at his jaw. “I’ll take the couch.” He picks up his duffel and strides past Connor without a second glance.
Connor’s gaze follows him all the way to the living room, where he deposits his bag and makes himself at home on the sectional.
“Not much of a conversationalist,” Connor says.
“Speaking of conversations… we need to talk. You’ve got my girlfriend keeping secrets from me.”
Connor’s head swivels back to me, and he shrugs. “So, it’s official? ‘Bout time.”
“Quit fucking deflecting.” I grip his shoulder and spin him toward the back door, giving him a gentle shove forward. “Come on, let’s have a drink, and you can tell me what it is you’ve confided in my girlfriend.”
“You really like that word,” he says, voice laced with amusement.
On the way through the kitchen, I grab a Guinness from the fridge along with one of Connor’s godawful hard ciders. “Can’t believe you still drink this garbage. As a bar owner, you should have better taste.”
“As an Irishman, you should be less cliché, but here we are.” Connor joins me out back on the porch, elbow propped on the railing.
I mirror his position on the opposite side and take a long pull of my beer while we stand in uncomfortable silence.
I miss the days when he used to tell me everything without hesitation.
That’s changed now, and I feel guilty for how everything went down.
Maybe someday we’ll get back to that, but for now it seems he’s still keeping secrets.
I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt that he confided in Ruby before me, but I can’t say I blame him. She’s always so open and honest with her feelings. She’s the perfect person to confide in. Or maybe she’s perfect in general—in my eyes at least.
“I sold the bar,” he says, matter-of-factly.
I stare at him, brows drawn together as I wait for him to elaborate.
“I’m leaving Lexington. Exploring other opportunities. I want to be closer to you and Aiden. Make up for lost time, as the saying goes.”
“You didn’t think to discuss this with me before you up and changed your life again? Did you learn nothing from the last time you pulled this shit?”
“I was hoping to have a plan in place before I had to bring it up. My lawyers are looking into a place in Nashville, but it’s going to take some time. Willow Valley is an option, too.”
“And in the meantime, you’re living with me?”
“Yep. So, you can let Ruby out of her nanny duties.”
I don’t like the sound of that. We’re just getting started, and I don’t want to give her any more reason to leave. If I don’t need her to take care of Aiden anymore, will she stay? Or will that be enough of a reason for her to leave again?
Connor smirks and his eyes crinkle, reminding me so much of our mom. I don’t have a lot of memories of her, but I’ll never forget her smile. “You could just tell her, you know?”
I take a sip of my beer and shift my attention to the tree line. “I’m not about to take relationship advice from the guy who fumbled Ruby Lynn Hayes.”
“Fair, but at least my past didn’t come back to bite me in the ass all because I was trying to escape the only woman I’ve ever given a damn about by getting with a new one that I could only barely tolerate.”
I exhale a long breath. “It got me Aiden. What happened between me and Bree back then, for better or worse, I wouldn’t change it if I could.”
Connor taps the railing twice and points his cider at me like a threat. “Gonna call it a night. Go tell my ex you love her.”
“You mean my girlfriend.”
“Potato, potato.”
Ruby
I sink into the plush rug beneath the Victrola table, sitting crisscross in front of the neatly lined shelves of vinyl records. In all the hours I’ve spent in this room, I never touched any of it. I was always so busy writing my own album, I never got a chance to enjoy the space for what it is.
I start at the top row, sifting through everything from classic rock and nineties country to jazz and classical.
It’s obvious Liam takes good care of his collection, but I can still pick out his favorites based on the overall wear and tear of the jackets.
I stop briefly on the yellow cover with “Jolene” written on the top, smiling before moving down to the bottom row.
The first record is one I recognize instantly.
It’s my very first single, “Anywhere But Here.” The cover photo is one of my favorites to this day, with my hair teased to high heaven and my denim bell-bottom jumpsuit.
I’m sitting in the back of Dolly with my acoustic guitar somewhere on the outskirts of Nashville in a field of wildflowers.
The next record is another one of mine, my first full-length album. As I continue down the line, I see every one of my vinyls from EPs and LPs to the special edition monochromatic in every color available.
At the end of the shelf, there’s a thick, black leather-bound album.
It has space for a photo, but instead, the little frame holds a pink glitter guitar pick with a distinctive R etched in the plastic, and a handful of paper confetti.
A gasp escapes my lips, and I drop the album to the floor.
Time seems to slow as I try to make sense of it.
It’s a shrine to my career—enough to rival any collector, and I’m utterly speechless. My mind travels back to all those months ago in the grocery aisle, Liam’s words replaying like it was yesterday. “I was the first Ruby Lynn Hayes Fan.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
When he shows you who he is, believe him.
Regaining my composure, I flip through the clear pockets that hold dozens of ticket stubs, each one with my name—some in bold print for my headliner shows, others in smaller italics as the opening act. One thing is the same in each: the city and state.
Nashville, Tennessee.
My fingertips trail over the last page, and a faded ticket stub from an open mic night. This one doesn’t have my name, but I know I was there—it was my very first show in Nashville a decade ago.
Before the spotlights and nicknames.
Before the stadiums and world tours.
This was Ruby before anybody even knew who she was.
Except Liam.
Liam has always seen me. If that wasn’t clear before, I don’t know how it could be made any plainer.
A soft rap on the doorframe startles me out of my thoughts. “Ruby? Dinner’s ready.”
“Liam…”
He takes a tentative step into the room, pausing when I turn to face him with the book in my hands. I swallow against the lump in my throat. “How many?” I ask, my voice soft and unsteady.
“All of them.”
“W-What does that mean?”
“I went to every Nashville show you ever played.”
“I don’t understand. How?”
He squats at my feet and picks up the book, placing it behind me beside the Victrola, then he lays a gentle hand on my cheek. “I’m your biggest fan, Ruby Lynn Hayes.”
With my brows drawn together, I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out, only a long, stuttered exhale. Seeming to sense my bewilderment, he stands and offers me a hand up. I take it and stumble into his chest with a grunt.
He steadies me with one hand on my lower back and the other on my waist. Those eyes I know so well hold nothing but tenderness as he gazes at me.
“All of them?” I whisper.
“All of them,” he echoes back. His fingers trace the contours of my face like he’s reading something in braille. If he could read my face, I’m sure it would tell him just how much I love him, even if my lips haven’t yet formed those exact words.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I murmur.
“Is that a promise, or a warning?”
“Both.” And with that, I crush my mouth against his.
He guides me over to the sofa, and I sink onto his lap, savoring his lips on mine.
With this newfound knowledge, everything about this kiss is different.
It holds much more complexity now, a depth of feeling I’ve never known before.
Every brush of his lips, each nip and suck and smile against mine, is more meaningful.
He brushes the hair off my forehead and slowly pulls away, his green eyes boring into my blue ones like he’s trying to combine the colors until the forest meets the sea, and our hearts entwine into something like permanence.
“What are you thinking, Goldie?” He murmurs the question against the shell of my ear, and a shiver travels up my spine.
“I think you might have a crush on me, Grumpy.”
He chuckles and, oh, that sound, and the things it still does to me after all this time. “I think you might be right. What should we do about it?”
“It’s tragically incurable. You’ll just have to kiss me again.”
And he does.