27. Boone
BOONE
The tap was leaking again. I twisted the wrench tighter under the bar and the drip stopped. Water pooled on the concrete floor. I grabbed a rag and mopped it up, then tossed the rag into the bucket by my knee.
The work was simple. Fixing things, cleaning things, lifting things.
Dee didn't ask questions, didn't make small talk.
She'd just point at what needed doing and I'd do it.
Replacing a busted lightbulb over the stage.
Unstacking chairs. Scrubbing the tap lines every morning before the place opened.
It wasn't my world, and that was the whole point.
The stage was empty this early. Later tonight someone would get up there with a guitar and sing for drinks.
I'd watched Carly do that for years without really seeing it.
Now I remembered every time she stood under those lights, remembered how her voice carried over the room, and it felt like someone was squeezing my chest.
I stood, wiped my hands on my jeans, and carried the wrench back to the toolbox behind the bar. My phone was on the counter where I'd left it. The screen was dark. No messages yet. They'd start soon enough.
Dee came through from the back carrying a crate of glasses. She set it down and started stacking them on the shelf. "Tap working?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She didn't look at me. "You can take the chairs down off the tables."
I nodded and got to work. The chairs scraped across the floor as I set them down, one by one. Repetitive. Physical. It kept my hands busy and my head somewhere other than where it wanted to go.
The door opened. I looked up automatically.
Carly.
My pulse kicked hard against my ribs. She stood in the doorway with the afternoon light behind her, her hair pulled back, her jacket zipped all the way up even though it wasn't that cold. She looked uncertain. Like she wasn't sure she should be here.
I set the chair down. "Hey."
She stepped inside and the door swung shut behind her. "Hey."
God, I wanted to close the distance between us, but I didn't move. The last time she'd been here we'd kissed and then she'd pulled away scared. Days ago. She'd said she was afraid the change wouldn't last. I hadn't known what to say to that, so I hadn't said anything.
She walked closer, stopped a few feet from where I stood. Her eyes searched my face. "I didn't know if you'd still be here."
"I'm here." My voice came out rougher than I meant it to.
She nodded. Her hands were in her jacket pockets. "The divorce is final."
I swallowed. "I know."
"We're not married anymore."
"I know."
Something flickered across her face. I couldn't read it. She looked down, then back up at me. "I just wanted to . . . I needed to see if you were really still doing this."
"I am."
My phone buzzed on the bar. Then again. Then a third time, rapid-fire vibrations that rattled against the wood. I glanced at it. The screen lit up with names I recognized. People from my world. Calls I would've answered without thinking a year ago.
Carly's expression changed. She took a small step back, like she was bracing herself.
I walked to the bar, picked up the phone, and put it facedown. Then I turned back to her. "They can wait."
Her throat moved. "You don't have to do that."
"Yeah, I do."
The phone buzzed again under my hand. I ignored it. Carly's eyes stayed on me. Wary. Testing. She was waiting for me to pick it up, to prove her right, to show her this was temporary. That I'd slide back into the person I'd been the second something in Nashville needed me.
I kept my hand on the bar, kept my attention on her. "What do you need?"
She let out a breath. "I don't know."
"Okay."
"Boone, I'm . . . I'm scared this won't last." Her voice cracked a little. "You're here now, but in a month, in two months?—"
"I know."
She stopped. Blinked. "You know?"
"Yeah." I ran a hand through my hair. "You're scared I'll quit. That I'll go back. That this is just me trying to fix it for a while and then I'll expect everything to be fine and I won't understand why you're not over it."
She stared at me. Her jaw was tight, her hands still hidden in her pockets. She looked like she was fighting not to cry, and it gutted me.
"You're right to be scared," I said. The words came out flat. Honest. "I screwed this up for ten years. I don't know how to prove it's different now except to keep doing it."
She didn't say anything. The silence stretched between us. My phone buzzed again. I didn't move.
Finally she spoke. "What about Savannah?"
My stomach dropped. "What about her?"
"Is she gone?" Carly's voice was steady, but her eyes weren't. "Really gone, or just gone until your mother convinces you she's necessary?"
"She's gone forever."
"How do I know that?"
"The deal with her father is over. There's no arrangement anymore." The words came out harder than I meant them to. "Nothing ties her to me or my career. You can check that."
Carly watched me. "And your mother was okay with that?"
"No." I let out a breath. "My mother wasn't okay with any of it."
"Boone—"
"She doesn't get a say anymore."
Her eyebrows pulled together. Confused. "What does that mean?"
"It means I pulled out." My hands curled into fists at my sides. "The deal with Savannah's father. My parents' management. All of it."
She went very still. "You what?"
"I'm out. It's done."
"But your career?—"
"I'll figure it out." I shook my head. "I'm not doing this their way anymore. I can't."
Carly just stared at me. Like she didn't believe what she was hearing. Like she was waiting for the catch. "Your parents have managed you your whole career."
"I know."
"That's your whole foundation."
"I know." My voice came out rough. "Emily came with me."
Her eyes widened. "Emily?"
"Yeah. She quit too. She's here in Nashville." I hesitated. "She wanted out as much as I did."
Carly's hand came up to her mouth. She looked shaken. Actually shaken, like I'd just told her something impossible. Her eyes were bright and wet, and I wanted to reach for her so badly it hurt. But I didn't. I stayed where I was and let her process it.
"I don't know what to do with that," she said finally. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"You don't have to do anything."
"Boone—"
"I'm not asking you for anything, Carly."
She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Took a shaky breath. Then another. She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was real. If any of this was real.
"I have to go," she said.
My chest tightened. "Okay."
She turned toward the door, hesitated, then looked back at me. "Will you still be here tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. Then she walked out.
The door swung shut behind her. The bar was quiet again. Just me and the empty stage and the chairs still half-stacked on the tables. I stood there like an idiot, staring at the door, my heart pounding against my ribs.
My phone buzzed again. Three more times in quick succession. I picked it up and looked at the screen. Missed calls. Messages. People wondering where the hell I was. What I was doing. When I was coming back. My mother's name was on two of them.
I scrolled through my contacts and called Tuck.
He picked up on the second ring. "Jesus, Boone, where've you been? I've been trying to reach you for two days."
"I know. Sorry."
"Sorry? Do you know how many people are asking me what's going on? I don't have answers, man. You dropped off the face of the earth."
I sat down on one of the stools. Ran a hand over my face. "I need you to take over."
Silence. Then, "Take over what?"
"Everything. The tour. The label meetings. All of it."
"Boone, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm stepping back. I'm out of the deal with my parents. Out of their management. You know the whole operation better than anyone." I kept my voice steady. "I need you to handle it."
"Handle it? Boone, I'm your tour manager. I don't run your career."
"You do now."
Another silence. Longer this time. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"What about?—"
"Tuck, I'm serious. I need you to do this. I can't be that person anymore."
He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was different. Quieter. "This is about Carly."
"Yeah."
"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll handle it."
"Thank you."
"Boone—"
"I'll call you later." I hung up before he could say anything else.
The phone went dark in my hand. I set it down on the bar and stared at it. All those calls. All those people. My whole world compressed into a glowing screen, and I'd just handed it off to someone else. It should've felt like falling. Like losing something I couldn't get back.
It didn't.
I looked at the door again. She'd asked if I'd be here tomorrow.
Like she was testing me. Like she didn't trust it yet but she wanted to.
God, I wanted her to trust it. I wanted her to walk in here a week from now, a month from now, and find me still doing the work.
Still showing up. Still choosing this over everything else.
I'd spent ten years choosing wrong. Ten years putting my career first, putting my family's expectations first, putting everything ahead of her. I'd convinced myself it was fine because we were married and she'd always be there. I'd been so sure of it. And I'd been an idiot.
The bar was quiet. The stage lights were off.
The smell of old wood and beer hung in the air, familiar and grounding.
This wasn't my world. It was hers. And I was learning it the way I should've learned it years ago.
One broken tap, one unstacked chair, one night of watching people sing their hearts out for a room full of strangers at a time.
My phone buzzed one more time. I didn't even look at it.
Carly had walked out of here scared. Still scared, even after I'd told her Savannah was gone. Even after I'd told her I'd pulled out of everything that had kept me tied to the life that had nearly destroyed us. She was right to be scared. I'd given her every reason not to believe me.
But she'd asked if I'd be here tomorrow.
That had to mean something.
I stood up and went back to the tables. Pulled down another chair. Then another. The work was simple and it was mine. I wasn't trying to prove anything, wasn't performing for anyone. I was just here. Doing what I said I'd do. And tomorrow I'd be here again.
Carly's voice played in my head. I'm scared this won't last.
I wanted to tell her I wasn't going anywhere. That I'd be here as long as it took. That I'd learn her all over again if she'd let me. That I'd spend the rest of my life making up for the years I'd wasted not paying attention.
But I couldn't say any of that. Words were easy. Words were what I'd always been good at. She didn't need more words from me. She needed time. She needed proof.
So I'd give her that.
I finished pulling down the chairs and went back to the toolbox for the next job on Dee's list. My hands were rough from the work, my back sore from bending under the bar all morning. It felt good. Real. Like something I could hold onto.
Carly had been here. She'd looked at me with those wary, hopeful eyes and asked if I'd still be here tomorrow. And when I'd said yes, she'd believed me just enough to ask.
That was more than I deserved. More than I'd earned. But I'd take it. I'd show up tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that until she stopped being scared. Until she knew.
I wanted her back so badly it burned under my skin. I wanted to walk into that bar tomorrow and find her there. I wanted her to stop looking at me like I was about to disappear. I wanted to know her again. The way I should've known her all along.
The door to the bar stayed closed. The stage stayed empty. My phone stayed facedown on the bar.
And I got back to work.