Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
By finally, finally being completely honest about who I was and who I loved.
By standing up and claiming the future I deserved.
I placed my note on the door, folded around the handle the same way I’d left the one in Hush, and headed to my brother’s ranch.
My family kept a car at the little Legacy airstrip, so I was counting on Lennon to help me run it back over there in case anyone else coming into town for the music festival needed it.
Once Gabe had reminded me of the event, I’d immediately called the Spring Sling event coordinator to ask for help getting my name in the lineup. While I’d been in the air over Wyoming, she’d arranged everything, assuming it was a surprise involving Papa.
She was right that it was going to surprise Papa. I had to admit, I was still a little worried about his reaction.
Would he immediately connect the dots and know part of the reason I’d kept Fletcher a secret was to avoid comparisons to Jude Marian and accusations that I was only successful because of my talented father?
Maybe, yes.
But talking with Gabe yesterday reminded me of some stuff Trace had said while we were hiking, and I now realized that in protecting Papa from one painful truth, I was denying him a chance to know me. To share the music we both loved.
Plus, I was treating him like he was too weak to handle it… just as I’d accused Trace of doing to me.
So I was changing that today.
In the most dramatic way possible.
When I got to the ranch, Lennon was just walking in the side door, covered in sweat and grime. “Well, there he is,” he said with a surprised smile. “The little lost boy returns. If I weren’t covered in cow shit right now, I’d hug the fuck out of you.”
A rush of affection filled me so full, I almost wept. “Hey. I missed you.”
Lennon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Likewise. Where the hell you been?”
I inhaled deeply, recognizing the familiar mix of cow, hay, and my brother. It smelled a little bit like home in a strange way. “You name it, feels like. But I’m here now. I want you to come with me tonight to the Spring Sling.”
He blinked but nodded. “You talked to the dads yet? They’re gonna have to meet us there. Plane’s running late.”
We moved into the mudroom while he yanked off his boots and stripped down to a tank top and his boxer briefs before tossing his clothes in the nearby washer and padding back toward his bedroom.
“Rosie here?” I asked as I followed him.
“Nah. She headed into town already to help out. Avery’s got a booth set up for her paintings, and Maddox Sullivan’s got one for his photos. Rosie’s offered to help them both. The artists’ booths open at five.”
I asked if he’d help me return the car to the airstrip before we went to the festival, and he agreed. While he disappeared into his room for a shower, I waited for him in the living room.
There were family photos here, too. Ones of us all on Lennon’s ranch. Some of us when we were little. One of Papa singing on a big stage somewhere with his long hair and bright eyes. In that one, you could barely make out Dad in the wings, waiting patiently offstage the way he always did.
I pulled that one off the shelf and sat down on a nearby chair to stare at it.
“Amazing we had such a normal childhood, considering,” Lennon said as he wandered back into the room a few minutes later, fully dressed but still running a hand towel through his wet hair.
“Normal?” I said with a laugh. “We had a private plane and vacationed with royals.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but we also played board games. Argued about whose turn it was to do the dishes. Swam on the swim team.”
“I hated swim team,” I murmured.
“Pretty sure Dad only made us do it because Papa was scared we’d drown unless we became strong swimmers.”
I glanced over at him. “You hated being in the spotlight, didn’t you? It’s why you moved here.”
Lennon frowned. “I moved here because I wanted to live on a ranch. Work with animals. Get away from the city.”
I waited for the rest of it, the resentment or regret, but he surprised me with a wave of his hand toward the big picture windows that looked out on the pinks and oranges of the incredible Montana sunset. “I wouldn’t be living my dream if it weren’t for Papa’s music career. I owe all of this to Jude Marian’s stardom.”
“And your hard work,” I protested.
He nodded. “Absolutely. But all the hard work in the world wouldn’t have gotten me a cattle ranch without the trust fund I got from Papa’s record sales. And I’m grateful every day for the way his talent and hard work inspired me to do what I love.”