2. Avery
TWO
Avery
It’s been at least eight years since I returned home, but Montana is still as beautiful as I remember. The vast landscape of fields and mountains is enough to make you forget that anything exists outside of this pocket of the country. But when you’re not here, it’s impossible to forget.
Just like a certain cowboy I left behind twelve years ago .
I clear the thought of him from my mind and refocus on the road ahead of me. I’ve been doing a lot of that on this drive.
It doesn’t take long to reach town, where the mountains and fields do a not so great job of hiding behind small two-story white and red brick buildings. Planters are dotted along the sidewalk of Main Street, the flowers in bloom and adding pretty specks of color as I drive through.
There’s no denying it. Coldwater is as far from Nashville as you can get.
The hustle and bustle is swapped for a calm that could lull you to sleep.
It’s got a lazy charm to it that influenced a lot of my earlier music; it’s why I’ve come home .
I need to find the girl I used to be, the one from whom the music poured out of.
I ease up on the gas, my attention darting around Main Street as I navigate the rental car along the cobblestone road.
Nothing’s really changed in the time since I left.
The thought conjures a memory of that same cowboy with a lazy smile, a mouth that would make me moan, and sparkling blue eyes that would rival the crystal lakes we’d visit on hot summer days.
Grayson Wilde .
A thickness forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe, and I squeeze my hands around the steering wheel as I struggle for air.
Why did it never cross my mind that returning home would mean seeing him again? A mix of panic and uncertainty swirls in my gut. Was it a mistake to come back? This is his town much more than it is mine, because he never left, despite how much I begged him to that night.
Now, here I am, driving home to ‘find myself’, but the truth is, I think I’m far too lost to ever be found. For years, I’ve been hustling to make a name for myself, singing in bars and going from door to door of record labels.
I thought when I ‘made it’, it’d be easier, but now my days are filled with recording music, interviews, meeting with label executives, and endless touring.
There hasn’t been a second for me to breathe, and so I’ve come back to the only place that’s ever felt real , hoping like hell it will give me back my love for music.
It’s the only thing I have left of who I used to be.
There isn’t a hot country singer waiting for me back in Nashville, or friends who understand my struggle.
Nothing is waiting for me, so I’m returning to a town that doesn’t know the woman I am, to find the girl I’ve lost.
But what if everything is different now?
I’m going on my first ever headline tour in nine weeks’ time, every city show is sold out, and I’ll have to put on a smile like I didn’t hit a creative wall months ago.
What’s worse is that I have to come up with two new songs, and they just aren’t coming.
The excitement is gone, and every time I step in the recording booth or on stage, I feel like a fraud.
I know that Coldwater won’t be the same as it was twelve years ago, not at its core.
And neither will he . I ignore the unwanted thought.
Grayson isn’t why I’m here. I’m back in town for me.
There’s got to be something that will help, something that will give me back the love I had for music, because I don’t know what will happen if I can’t find it.
My entire career is hinging on figuring this out.
About two-thirds of the way down Main Street, I spot the coffee shop Mama can’t stop talking about: Chapters she wouldn’t understand. She thinks I’ve come back to Coldwater for a well-deserved break, although she wouldn’t put it in those exact words herself.
The creak of the front door swinging open pulls my focus away from my phone, and I watch as Mama flies through it, racing down the steps with a huge grin on her face.
I can’t help but mirror her joy, happiness crashing into me like a welcome wave.
From inside the car, I can hear the screen door slamming closed behind her—it’s always been a little too loud.
My dad appears at the top of the steps, his face in a mock scowl as he mutters something to himself, brushing specks of dust off his T-shirt. He must have been in his workshop .
My mom has the car door open, the heat from outside hitting me in the face, before her arms band around me. I don’t even have time to undo my seat belt. Her familiar floral scent envelops me, and I close my eyes, squeezing her a little tighter. God, I’ve missed her.
“Come on, Daisy, give the girl a chance to get out of the car,” my dad admonishes, but there’s a teasing note in his voice that tells me he just wants to have his turn.
Stepping back, Mama cups my face, staring at me through glassy eyes as her thumbs brush over the apples of my cheeks. I smile up at her, noting the signs of time that grace her face. I should have come home sooner .
“Don’t,” she warns, a brow lifting. She could always tell what I was thinking.
Just like Grayson .
Jeez, why is he on my mind so much today? It’s got to be because I’m back in town. He’s here somewhere, and my heart and mind know that. Well, they’ll have to get over him. I have bigger things to worry about than whether or not he’s forgiven me.
Mama steps back, and I climb from the car, pulling her into a hug before outstretching my arm and including my dad too. “I’ve missed you both.” I pause, my entire body relaxing into their embrace.
Leaning back, I stare at them both, a genuine smile pulling at my mouth for the first time in too long. It’s good to be home .
Wiping at her eyes, Mama squeezes my waist with her other arm before guiding me back to the house. “Dad’ll bring in your things, honey. I made your favorite huckleberry pie, and I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.”
I chuckle, resting my head on her shoulder as we walk up the front porch steps. “I call you every week and update you. There’s nothing I’ve done that you don’t know about.”
“I don’t know why you're home,” she says softly. It’s not an accusation, just a curious statement. She takes my hand, pulling away from me to look in my eyes.
Emotions flood me: failure, fear, and relief that she knows me so well. That I have her to lean on. “I—I—” I choke out, moisture pooling in my eyes as a lump forms in my throat.
Without a second thought, she pulls me into her arms, holding me on the front porch, as she tells me everything a mother should, without saying a single word. She’s here for me whenever I’m ready to talk about it. Whenever I figure it out .