20. Boone
BOONE
The house felt wrong without her.
I'd been pacing the living room for the better part of an hour, waiting for Tuck's truck to pull up the drive.
Every creak of the floorboards under my boots reminded me she wasn't here.
The ring sat heavy in my pocket, silver and cold against my thigh.
Her ring. The one she'd left behind at the studio like it meant nothing.
Like I meant nothing.
I stopped at the window and stared out at the driveway.
Empty. The mid September sun was already sinking, throwing long shadows across the lawn that stretched all the way to the tree line.
I rubbed my face with both hands and tried to shake off the exhaustion that'd been sitting on my chest for two solid days.
My eyes burned. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept more than an hour or two.
God, I was a mess.
The living room looked the same as it always did — her books still on the shelf, her sweater draped over the back of the couch where she'd left it last week.
Like she was coming back any minute. Except she wasn't. She was at Dee's bar, probably singing for strangers while I stood here like an idiot, trying to figure out how everything had gone to hell so fast.
Except it hadn't been fast. That was the part that kept eating at me. This had been building for years, and I'd been too damn blind to see it.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires finally pulled me away from the window.
I watched Tuck's beat-up Ford roll to a stop near the front steps.
He took his time getting out, adjusting his ball cap before he shut the door.
That was Tuck — never in a rush, never rattled.
I'd called him at seven this morning, probably sounded like I was losing my mind, and all he'd said was "I'll be there by six. "
I crossed to the front entry and opened it before he could knock.
"Thanks for coming," I said.
Tuck gave me a long look, the kind that saw too damn much. "You sounded like hell on the phone."
"Yeah, well." I stepped back to let him in. "Feel about the same."
He followed me through to the kitchen without saying anything else, which was typical.
Tuck never rushed a conversation. He waited until people were ready to talk, and then he listened like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
It was one of the reasons I'd kept him around for so long.
That, and he'd never once lied to me, even when the truth was something I didn't want to hear.
I grabbed two beers from the fridge and slid one across the island to him. He caught it but didn't open it right away, just turned it in his hands and waited.
"Carly asked for a divorce," I said.
The words came out flat. Like I was reporting the weather instead of the end of my marriage. Tuck didn't react, just nodded once and popped the tab on his beer. The hiss of carbonation was loud in the quiet kitchen.
"Two days ago," I continued. My voice was rough, scraping against my throat. "She asked me if Savannah was here, and I didn't deny it fast enough. Just stood there like a damn fool. She walked out and told me she wanted a divorce."
Tuck took a slow drink. "What'd Savannah do?"
I leaned against the counter and stared at the bottle in my hand. The label was already peeling where my thumb kept worrying at it, curling up at the edges.
"Told Carly there was an affair in Atlanta," I said.
"Told her she was pregnant. Emily finally came clean yesterday and laid out everything Savannah said to Carly.
Every poisonous word." My jaw tightened until it ached.
"Savannah looked my wife in the eye and told her I'd gotten her pregnant.
A complete fabrication. And Carly believed it.
She was already carrying that lie when she came here and asked if Savannah was at the house.
Already thought I'd betrayed her, and I didn't even know what I was supposed to be denying. "
"Jesus," Tuck muttered.
"And my mother knew." The words tasted bitter. "Diane knew what Savannah was doing and she let it happen because it served her purposes. Probably encouraged it, knowing her. Anything to get rid of Carly and keep me tied to the Merritt deal."
"What'd you do?" Tuck asked.
"I ended it," I said. The beer tasted like nothing in my mouth.
"Told Savannah she's done. No more studio time, no more access, no more pretending she's part of my career.
Did it right in front of Diane. Threatened to pull out of the whole damn deal with the Merritts if that's what it takes to get them out of my life. "
I waited for Tuck to say something — congratulations, maybe, or good riddance. Something to confirm I'd done the right thing. But he just watched me with those steady eyes that'd seen me through every screw-up since I was twenty-two years old and didn't know a damn thing about the business.
"I already knew," he said finally.
That stopped me cold. "What?"
"About Savannah. About your mother." He set his beer down and crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter.
"Known for a while, Boone. Wasn't hard to figure out.
The way Savannah acted like she owned the place, the way Carly would go quiet whenever your mama came around.
I've been on the road with you for damn near a decade. You think I don't notice things?"
Shame crawled up my spine and settled at the base of my skull, hot and uncomfortable. I looked away, staring at the dark window over the sink.
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.
"Wasn't my place." Tuck's voice was even, not unkind. "You're a grown man. I'm your tour manager, not your daddy. Besides, would you have listened if I'd said something two years ago? Five years ago?"
No. Probably not. I'd been so convinced everything was fine, so focused on the career and the deal and keeping everyone happy, that I wouldn't have heard him even if he'd shouted it.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the clock on the wall. I took another drink and felt it sit heavy in my stomach, adding to the weight that'd been there since Carly walked out.
"So what're you gonna do about it?" Tuck asked.
I straightened up, relieved to finally have something concrete to fix.
"I've got options. I can buy Carly out of the prenup, set her up with enough money she'll never have to work again.
Get her a place in town, somewhere nice.
Away from all this." I gestured vaguely at the house, the life we'd built here that'd somehow turned into a trap.
"Set up an account she can draw on, make sure she's taken care of. Whatever she needs."
Tuck was quiet for a long moment. Then he shook his head, slow and deliberate, like he was disappointed but not surprised.
"That what you think this is about?" he asked. "Money?"
"It's what I've got," I shot back. My chest was tight, my hands clenching around the bottle hard enough to hurt. "It's what I'm good at. Making sure people are provided for."
"Boone." Tuck's voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse. "Money's what got you into this mess in the first place."
I stared at him. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"You've been throwing money at Carly for ten years," he said. "Nice house. Nice car. Whatever she wanted, you bought it. Figured that was enough, didn't you? Figured if she had everything she needed, that meant the marriage was solid. That you were doing right by her."
"I was providing for my wife," I said, but the words sounded hollow even to me.
"You were avoiding your wife." Tuck leaned against the counter and looked me dead in the eye. "When's the last time you sat down and actually talked to her, Boone? Not about the tour schedule or what's for dinner. Really talked. Asked her how she was doing."
My throat closed up. "I talk to her."
"When?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it again.
"When's the last time you asked her how she was doing?" Tuck pressed. "What she was working on? What she needed from you that wasn't money?"
"I've been busy," I said, but it sounded weak. Pathetic. "The tour, the album, the?—"
"The deal with the Merritts," Tuck finished. "Yeah. I know. You've been busy for ten years, man. Question is, busy doing what? Building a career? Or building a marriage?"
The shame was back, hotter this time, burning through my chest and up into my face. I set the beer down before I could throw it against the wall.
"She's my partner," I said.
"Is she?" Tuck didn't blink. "Does she know that? Because from where I'm standing, you've spent a decade letting your family treat her like she's beneath you, letting Savannah waltz around like she owns you, and expecting Carly to just . . . what? Smile and take it?"
"I didn't know it was that bad."
"Bullshit." The word came out quiet, but it landed like a slap. "You didn't want to know. There's a difference."
I turned away from him and braced my hands on the counter, staring down at the granite like it might have answers. My pulse was hammering in my ears. Everything he was saying was true and I hated it. Hated that he'd seen it when I hadn't. Hated that I'd let it get this far.
"How many times did Carly try to tell you something and you looked at your phone instead?
" Tuck asked. His voice was quieter now, but no less cutting.
"How many times did she need you to defend her and you just .
. . didn't? How many family dinners did you sit through while your mother tore her apart, and you said nothing because it was easier to keep the peace? "
Too many. God, too many.
I could see it now, all those moments I'd ignored or written off or convinced myself didn't matter.
Carly going quiet at dinner while Diane made some backhanded comment about her clothes or her background or the fact that she worked at a bar.
Savannah showing up at the house uninvited and me just letting it happen because it wasn't worth the fight.
Carly asking me if I'd listened to the new bridge she'd written, and me saying "Yeah, sounds great" without even looking up from my phone.
Every single time, I'd picked the easy road. And every single time, I'd lost a piece of her.
"I thought . . ." I swallowed hard. "I thought if I kept my head down and got through the deal, everything would settle. I thought she understood. That she knew I was doing it for us."
"She understood," Tuck said. "She understood you picked the deal over her. Every single time."
The truth of it hit me like a freight train.
I'd been so focused on managing the Merritts, on keeping the peace with Diane, on building the career, that I'd let Carly disappear right in front of me.
I'd let my mother and Savannah chip away at her until there was nothing left but the woman who'd looked me in the eye two days ago and asked for a divorce.
And I'd been too blind to see it happening.
"Cutting Savannah loose is a start," Tuck said. His voice was softer now, almost kind. "But that's not the problem, Boone. Savannah didn't ruin your marriage. Your mother didn't ruin your marriage."
"I did," I said. The words scraped out of me, raw and painful.
"Yeah." Tuck didn't sugarcoat it. "You did."
I pulled the ring from my pocket and set it on the counter between us.
It gleamed dull silver under the kitchen lights, the engraving hidden on the inside where only we could see it.
Carly and Boone. The date we got married.
The day I promised her everything and then spent ten years giving her nothing that mattered.
"I can't lose her," I said. My voice cracked on the last word. "Tuck, I can't?—"
"Then don't." He picked up his beer and took another drink.
"But fixing this isn't about money. It's not about cutting Savannah out or standing up to your mother, even though you should've done both a long time ago.
It's about Carly. What she needs. What she's been needing all along that you didn't give her. "
"I don't know what that is," I admitted. The confession felt like pulling glass out of my chest. "I don't know how to fix this."
Tuck studied me for a long moment. Then he sighed and shook his head.
"Yeah," he said. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush me. I stared at the ring on the counter and felt the full weight of what I'd done — or hadn't done — settle over me like a cage. Carly had been right there, for ten years, and I'd been too busy looking everywhere else to see her.
"She asked for a divorce," I said again, quieter this time. The reality of it was sinking in, cold and final. "What if she's done? What if it's too late?"
"Might be," Tuck said, and didn't apologize for it. "But you won't know unless you try."
I picked up the ring and turned it over in my palm.
The metal was warming now, losing that cold weight it'd had before.
I traced the edge with my thumb and thought about the woman who'd worn it for ten years.
The woman who'd written every song with me, fixed every melody, turned every half-formed idea into something real.
The woman I'd married because I couldn't imagine my life without her, and then spent a decade proving I didn't know how to live with her.
God, what had I done?
"I want her back," I said. The words came out rough, desperate. "I don't care what it takes. I want my wife back."
Tuck nodded slowly. "Then you better figure out what she needs. And you better be ready to give it to her, even if it's harder than anything you've ever done."
I closed my fist around the ring and felt the edges press into my palm.
The house was still too quiet, still too empty.
Carly was gone and I didn't know how to bring her back.
All I knew was that money wouldn't do it.
Cutting out Savannah wouldn't do it. Even standing up to Diane — which I should've done years ago — wouldn't be enough.
I had to give Carly something I'd never given her before.
I just didn't know what the hell that was.
"I'll figure it out," I said, more to myself than to Tuck.
He clapped me on the shoulder, firm and steady. "Hope you do, man. For both your sakes."
He left his beer half-finished on the counter and headed for the door.
I heard his truck start up a minute later, heard the gravel crunch as he backed down the drive and then pulled away.
Then the house was silent again, empty except for me and the ring in my hand and the weight of everything I'd lost without even noticing it was gone.
I stood there in the kitchen as the sun finished setting outside, watching the last of the light drain from the sky. The house was dark around me, but I didn't turn on any lights. I just stood there, turning the ring over and over in my palm, and I made myself a promise.
I'd win Carly back. Whatever it took. However long it took.
I just had to figure out how.