85. As if There Are Two Brighton Rangers
AS IF THERE ARE TWO brIGHTON RANGERS
brIGHTON
Looking around Pop’s house, I’m struck with a moment of melancholy. Our families mingle in and out. People mill about chatting with each other, hugging, eating and drinking, and telling stories. Laughter and joy are palpable.
Watching Exton and Willa’s love for each other—knowing he married the perfect woman for him and that she loves him so completely—is the perfect way to celebrate this Thursday night. Nothing quite speaks to the unconventional romance of my brother and his wife as a Thursday night wedding.
He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
And Willa, who is stunning naturally, looks more beautiful than I could imagine. The glow coming from her practically lights up the room.
This home is full of people, but mom’s absence still looms large.
We’ve made it almost a year. The calendar shows eleven months, but we haven’t crossed that date yet. Something about knowing the wound should be scarred over and healed seems so, so wrong.
Pop’s living room and dining room furniture have been cleared out. Rented white chairs line the walls. What’s always been the family room for watching Layton play football and lounging around, is larger, a little starker, but full of celebration.
‘Beautiful, Crazy’ comes over the speakers, and a hand runs down my arm from above my elbow until it reaches my wrist, leaving goosebumps in its wake. When Elias takes my hand, he uses it to twirl my body in a complete circle and back into his arms.
His right arm locks around my waist, pulling me flush to him. His head dips and, into my ear, just for me to hear, he sings along with Luke Combs.
Luke Who? Seriously.
He pulls back and holds my eyes and sings about being a fool for me.
My man holds me tight, swaying in perfect rhythm to an amazing song, reminding me of how he sees me.
With the flare I didn’t know he had, he dips me and slowly raises me back into his arms, never breaking eye contact.
I swallow hard. He’s toying with me. It’s almost like when he takes me to the brink, only to withhold my orgasm, knowing it will build and almost overpower me.
At a break in the lyrics, Eli speaks. “You’re always beautiful. My whole life you’ve been beautiful. But tonight you’re a stunner. It’s like there’s peace that’s settled in your soul.”
He keeps dancing and a niggle of old words flits around my memory.
“The radiance of who you’ve always been is shining through. My bold, loving, brilliant woman. I’m a lucky man to see that.”
My mom’s words echo in my heart. Make peace with yourself. Then give that away to someone you find worthy.
Less than a year. It’s taken less than a year for Mom’s final wish for me to come to fruition.
A year of pain.
A year of fear.
A year of trial.
A year of bravery.
A year of joy.
Almost a year with this man. My man. The one who’s steady, day-in and day-out. The man who holds me or lets me wail or tempers my anger. The man who deserves my peace.
“It’s you, Eli. You make me whole.”
“No, darlin’. This is all you. I’m just the fortunate one who gets to be with you.”
Make peace with yourself. Then give that away to someone you find worthy.
“Thank you.”
He pulls back, holding my eyes. “For what?”
“For loving me and for reminding me of who I am.”
“Bright, I’d take every day of wanting you, every single fight with you, to have you in this moment.
To know what so few others know.” He spins me out and then pulls me flush to him.
His chin is dipped, and he stops moving entirely.
“There might be five people on this planet who know the real you, the vulnerable you. The you who doesn’t have to be strong because she trusts them to care for her and to protect her.
That I’m counted as one is a gift you’ve given me that I can never repay. ”
Luke Combs’ words swirl around us, and Elias begins swaying to the music again. “Except to say, I will love and protect you every day of the rest of my life. Forever.”
I’m here. I can’t believe I’m actually here.
Dollywood.
When Eli gave me the stars for Christmas, he gave me tickets to see the Queen herself in Pigeon Forge. Her concert is tonight.
I feel equal parts ridiculous for loving it and overjoyed at being here. The overjoyed part is winning though.
This place is stunning and huge.
We’re on vacation.
Not that I know how to sleep in. Besides, I’m too excited. I’m a kid in a candy store at this point.
We wander around the park, exhausted and elated. Today is our third day, and we’ve done it all. I’ve packed in more than is reasonable, and Eli has held my hand, right beside me, the whole time.
We head into a restaurant that has a sign out front advertising karaoke. “Seems fitting,” Eli offers as he pulls the door open and steps aside for me to enter before him.
We order bar food and look at the song list. I studiously avoid the vodka and Red Bull that happened the last time we did karaoke.
“You have to know what I’m singing,” I say, sliding off my chair and heading to the mic at the stage.
“Of course, I do.”
The bartender rolls his eyes as I make my selection. “If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.”
“Then today is one thousand one. Lucky you.” No one is harshing my Dolly glow today, especially not a man who gets to live in this kind of beauty.
“Brighton Ranger singing ‘Jolene’,” he announces, apropos of nothing. There can’t be twenty people in the whole place. It’s completely unnecessary.
The first strums of the song sound, and I close my eyes and own the music. Or it owns me. I take everything I have and pour it into the lyrics. It’s not complex musically, but doing Dolly justice, in her Queendom no less, without simply imitating her is a delicate balance.
I’m pleased with the sound, and even the barman gives me a nod and a wink when I walk off stage.
I get back to the table, giddy and satisfied.
Eli grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles as canned music pipes through the place. No one is ready to sing so soon again, and that’s okay with me.
We head to the venue after we eat, taking a slow route and watching the sun set over the mountains. They call where we live the Hill Country, but in comparison… well, there is none. I can’t get over the vistas and views.
My mouth falls open when I see we’re front row. “How did you manage to score these tickets?” Front freaking row.
“Well, I had to sell Strait and Sola to afford it.” My head whips around to his deadpan answer.
“I didn’t love them that much anyway.” It’s a lie. He damn well knows how attached I am to both. And to Luna. And to him. “Good riddance if it got us these.” I point to the seats.
The lights drop and…
…it’s her. It’s Dolly.
Live and in person. Donned in rhinestones that are blinding with the spotlights that we’re close enough to feel their heat.
She’s dazzling. Fucking mesmerizing.
I sing like no one can hear me and dance like no one is watching. And quite frankly, I have no cares in this world. I’m with her. And I’m with him.
Life couldn’t get better… until I hear, “Brighton Ranger, are you here tonight?”
I look around wildly as if there are two Brighton Rangers in this world.
“I’m looking for Brighton Ranger.”
I’m not hallucinating. Dolly Parton—the Dolly Parton—has called my name.
Twice.
I jump and wave, all pretense of being a mature adult nowhere to be seen as the crowd roars behind me.
“Come up here, Sugar.”
Dolly called me Sugar. I’m dead. I’ve died and heaven is Dollywood.
I point to myself and swivel my head, looking around.
“Yes, you, Sugar.”
A security guard comes to me and takes my hand, guiding me to the end of the stage where someone behind a curtain shoves a microphone into my hand.
“Y’all, please give a big Dollywood welcome to Brighton Ranger.” Dolly gestures to me and I fight to move my leaden legs toward her. My retinas will never be the same as I’m blinded by swirling lights.
The crowd is deafening.
I make my way to the blond bombshell and stand opposite her wondering what the hell is happening.
“Earlier this evening, I was grabbing a bite to eat. I snuck into the back of a bar here on the grounds and was floored to hear this little lady sing one of my songs. I thought we could sing it together tonight.”
What the hell?
The wave of the sound from the crowd pours over me like a tsunami.
“Is that okay, Brighton?” Dolly asks.
I nod.
“Gonna have to use your voice on this stage, Sugar.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I reply into the mic. Laughter and cheers swell from the audience.
When the beginning of the song thrums, I’m determined. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I refuse to waste it.
I look to Dolly and wait for her lead. She puts her arm around my shoulders and gives a reassuring squeeze. I follow her lead and sing harmony for her through the first verse. She takes a step backward on stage on the second verse, and I take the melody, listening to her harmonize with my voice.
How will anything ever top this experience?
We sing the last verse together, weaving in and out of each other’s voices and when the song comes to an end, I’m bursting with happiness. I can’t stop the smile that pulls across my face.
She leans in, gives me a hug, and thanks me. She thanks me!
“Ladies and gentlemen, Brighton Ranger.” Turning from the crowd, she squeezes my hand and adds, “Don’t be a stranger, now, ya hear?”
I wish I had eloquent words. But there are none. There’s just the goofy fucking grin and me wandering off the Queen’s stage to head to my man who stands two inches taller in pride and whose grin mirrors mine.
We sit in bed. I’m too amped to sleep. It’s taken me hours to calm down.
I’ve watched the video Elias took more times than I’ll admit.
“You certainly gave me the stars.”
“Happy to do it, darlin’. You’ve given me the world.” His words are quiet and weighty. And with no lead in whatsoever, he continues, “I asked your father for his permission to marry you.”
I jerk my head back, holding his stare. I was not expecting that. “You what? When?”
He pulls me closer to him. “You heard me the first time. And October.”
He kisses the spot below my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “What did he say?”
His chuckle rumbles in his chest and spills out between us. I’d growl if it weren’t the most inopportune time. Hell, I still might.
“Kimp is a wise man. And he told me what I already knew.”
“Okay, Counselor,” I say dryly.
“More than a year, baby. I knew on night one I would marry you. Hell, I probably knew a decade ago. I guess that’s why Braxton made me promise—”
My eyes narrow, and I grind my teeth together.
His responding grin is wide and guileless.
“Are you arguing with me right now?” He tumbles over me on all fours as I lay beneath him.
“I’m about to.” I look away, on the verge and overwhelmed, wanting to hear him say the words, but wanting this moment to stretch out forever and burn it in my memory.
He laughs again and turns my face back to him with his thumb and forefinger. “Kimp was fine to give his blessing, but he said I didn’t need his permission for your hand. He said that wasn’t his to give. It was yours.”
My mouth drops open, and after a long moment of silence, I whisper, “He did?”
He nods. “He did. So, Brighton Ranger, I want to marry you. I want to grow old with you. Will you agree to be my wife?”
I close my eyes and drop my head to the side. Every fantasy I’ve ever had is coming true.
He holds me while I collect my thoughts… not about whether I’ll marry him—that’s a given, but to settle my racing mind. When I meet his gaze again, I say simply, “Yes.”
He leans down and kisses me. His smile breaks our kiss. “Good.”
“Do you want your ring now or later?”
I knew but I just didn’t know, if that makes sense. “You already have a ring?”
He nods. “Darlin’, you think I’d propose if I hadn’t done my due diligence?”
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know what to think. I knew he was serious. I knew we were serious, but there’d been so much going on, I hadn’t given much thought to next steps. We were good, and that was enough.
From his pocket, he pulls a ring. Not just any ring—the perfect ring.
An eternity band, with brilliant round stones all the way around it. The outside of the band has dainty filigree or something, which I’m sure I could make out if I weren’t trying to see through the tears pooling in my eyes.
He slides it onto my ring finger, and making a vow I’ll never forget, says, “Forever.”
“Forever,” I reply since no more words are necessary.