Chapter 15
Fifteen
RHEA
By three o’clock, I’m a complete mess of nerves, masquerading as a functioning human being.
Every time there’s a lull in customers at Mountain Mornings, my brain spirals into panic mode about seeing the band tonight.
What if it’s awkward? What if they’ve changed?
What if I’ve changed too much, and we can’t find our groove again?
“You’re wiping that same spot on the counter for the fifth time. Want to talk about whatever’s making you vibrate?” Emma observes, coming up behind me with a knowing smile.
“I’m seeing the band tonight. All of them. For the first time since…” I trail off, realizing I’ve never actually told Emma the full story of how everything ended.
“Since you walked away from your old life to start fresh here?” She guesses correctly.
“Exactly. And I’m terrified it’s going to be weird, or they’ll resent me for leaving, or I won’t know how to be around them anymore.” I release a big sigh and throw the dish towel over my shoulder.
Emma leans against the counter, studying my face. “These are the guys that Gray talks about like they’re his brothers, right? The ones who showed up to help when everything fell apart?”
“Yes.” I can see her point.
“Then they probably missed you just as much as you missed them. Stop overthinking it.” She waves off my fretting over seeing them in just a few hours.
Before I can spiral further, the bell chimes, and Mrs. Patterson moseys in for an afternoon coffee and blueberry muffin.
She settles on the middle stool in front of the counter, likely so she can be in the middle of everything. “Hello, dear. You look flustered today. Everything alright?”
“Just excited about seeing some old friends tonight.” I probably say too much, considering who I’m talking about.
“Oh, how lovely! Is that handsome young man you introduced us to earlier in the week going to be there?” She might be sixty-seven years old, but she doesn’t miss a damn thing. Mrs. Patterson has yet to master the art of being subtle about her new rock star crush.
I can feel Emma’s amused gaze on me. “Yes, Gray will be there.”
“Good, good. You two have a lovely energy together. Reminds me of my late husband and me when we were dating.” Mrs. Patterson accepts her coffee with a grateful smile. “We were friends first, too, you know. Best foundation for love, friendship is.”
Twenty minutes later, after Mrs. Patterson has finished her muffin and shared three stories about her granddaughter’s college adventures, I’m helping Mr. Jameson with his usual afternoon coffee. He drops in his own observation.
“That fellow who was here the other day, the musician. He kept looking at you like you hung the moon. Are you planning to give him another chance?” Mr. Jameson is seventy-five and spry, but obviously a town gossip as well.
“We’re taking things slow,” I say diplomatically, handing him his black coffee and blueberry scone.
“Slow is good. Means you’re both thinking with your heads instead of other parts of your anatomy.” He cracks up at his own comment, and I can’t help but join in.
“Mr. Jameson!” I laugh.
“What? I’m old, not dead. I remember what it’s like to be young and stupid in love. Makes you do dumb shit sometimes.” He nods his head as if to say, “That’s all there’s to say on the matter”.
By the time Emma officially releases me at five, I’m wound so tight I’m surprised I don’t snap. I practically sprint across the street to my apartment, where I proceed to stand in my bathroom staring at myself in the mirror like I’ve forgotten how to function.
The shower helps calm me slightly, but then I’m faced with the monumental task of choosing an outfit.
This isn’t a date, I remind myself. It’s dinner with friends and former colleagues.
But it’s also the first time I’ll be around Gray for an extended period since our reunion, and the first time I’ll see the guys since I walked out of their lives.
I try on three different outfits before settling on dark jeans that fit perfectly and a black babydoll blouse that’s flirty without being too obvious.
The evenings have been cool lately, so I grab my favorite oversized hoodie and slip on my comfortable black Vans.
The look exudes casual yet put-together, friendly yet not overly trying.
Makeup is another debate. Too little and I’ll feel underdressed. Too much and it sends the wrong message about what tonight means. I settle on mascara, a touch of blush, and lip gloss that makes me feel polished without looking like I’m trying to seduce anyone.
When Gray’s truck pulls up outside at exactly six-thirty, I’m as ready as I’m going to be.
The sight of him through my window makes my stomach flutter like I’m sixteen again.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a navy henley that does unfair things to his shoulders, and when he looks up at my window and grins, I forget how to breathe for a second.
I buzz him up, and when I open my door, his expression stops me cold. He looks at me like he’s seeing something miraculous, his eyes traveling from my face to my outfit and back again with an appreciation that makes my cheeks warm.
“You look…” He starts to speak, then stops. “God, Rhea, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I grab my keys and hoodie. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He laughs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I may have changed shirts three times.”
“Only three? I went through three complete outfits,” I admit and laugh with him.
The admission makes him smile, and suddenly, the jittery energy between us feels less overwhelming and more like shared anticipation.
His truck is a new, deep blue Ford that still has that new car smell when he opens the passenger door for me.
The gesture is so automatic, so natural, that I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.
But I catch the way his smile widens when he closes my door, like he’s pleased with himself for remembering his manners.
“New truck?” I ask as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
“Had to return the rental Andrew got me. Figured it was time to buy something of my own instead of borrowing his stuff all the time.” He starts the engine, glancing over at me. “Plus, I need something reliable for mountain roads if I’m going to be living up here.”
The casual mention of staying long-term sends a little thrill through me that I try to ignore.
“How was the rest of your day?” He drives us through the winding path of mountain roads toward the band’s cabin.
I tell him about Mrs. Patterson’s stories and Mr. Jameson’s unsolicited relationship advice, which makes Gray laugh so hard he has to wipe his eyes.
“I love that you’ve found your people here.” His tone is gentle and sincere.
“What about you? What did you do all day besides fret about tonight?” I ask, secretly hoping I wasn’t alone in not being able to play it cool all day.
“Who says I was fretting?” His expression morphs into a playful smirk that tells me he’s being facetious.
“Gray, you changed shirts three times. That’s the very definition,” I inform him, becoming the bearer of bad news.
He grins sheepishly. “Fair point. We drove down to Mae’s Diner this morning for breakfast. It’s this country diner in the village that serves portions big enough to feed a small army.”
“And?” I’m so hungry I’m practically drooling just thinking about a home-cooked meal from Mae’s.
“And Zep decided to flirt with our server. She shot him down so fast it was hard to watch – sort of like not being able to look away from a train wreck.”
I laugh, picturing Zep’s confident facade crumbling. “Poor Zep. Was he devastated?”
“He tried to play it cool, but I think he didn’t really know how to handle her frank and immediate rejection.
Turns out she’s a single mom with a kid, and she told him the only way she’d consider going on a date with him is if her kid could come too.
” Gray’s gleam is wicked. “You should have seen his face. Pure terror followed by what I’m pretty sure was genuine interest.”
“Wait, seriously? Zep is considering a date with a kiddo for a chaperone?” Shock registers in my tone.
“I think he’s more intrigued than terrified, which honestly surprised all of us. He spent the whole drive home asking Andrew if he thought she was serious or just trying to get rid of him.” He chuckles at his guitarist’s confusion over women.
“What do you think?” I ask to genuinely gauge how he interpreted the situation.
“I think the waitress is a smart woman who knows how to separate the men from the boys. Zep’s a great guy and a talented musician, but I don’t see him sticking around here for the small-town life any time soon.”
The thought of Zep navigating conversations about single motherhood makes me smile. Of all the guys, he’s always been the most confident with women, but also the most likely to run at the first sign of real commitment.
The cabin appears around a bend, and my stomach clenches with fresh butterflies.
It’s beautiful, with all its rustic wood and stone, and warm light spilling from the windows.
I can see figures moving around inside, and suddenly I’m seventeen again, about to meet my boyfriend’s family for the first time.
“You okay?” Gray asks, noticing my white knuckles where I’m gripping my hoodie.
“It’s been almost four months since I’ve seen them.” I hate feeling so anxious about people who were very much a part of my family and had my back the night I left. They not only supported me, but they also held Gray back so that I could leave.
“They missed you, Rhea. They’re probably more excited than you are.”
Before I can respond, the front door opens and five familiar figures spill onto the porch. My heart lurches with a mixture of joy and apprehension as I see Andrew, Parker, Wyatt, Zep, and Cody all trying to fit through the door, all at the same time.