I couldn't hold back the chuckle that bubbled out of me. "Crazy woman, vagina magic?"

  "What? You don't believe in vagina magic?" he questioned, trying to mask a laugh behind a serious face.

  "I'm not sure. Think it's on WebMD?"

  "If it's not, it should be…Along with a list of antidotes." He licked his lips, clasping his hands together in front of him as he grew serious again. "Look, Kennedy, I didn't come here to get into a pissing contest with you."

  "You didn't? 'Cause you sure as hell could've fooled me…"

  He chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Dammit, woman, you're exhausting. No wonder you and Griff hit it off-"

  "Mick," I warned.

  "Okay, whatever-"

  "You ever going to get down to the point of this little visit? Besides the bullshit excuse of the performance."

  "For the record, my set starts in fifteen minutes," he said, eyeballing his watch. "I agreed to do this because I'm trying to right my wrongs. I can't do that stateside when Griff's not receptive. And he won't be receptive unless you come back to-"

  "Out of the question," I deadpanned, the mere idea of seeing Griff causing a wave of nausea to float over me.

  Mick licked frustrated lips before trying a different approach. "I won't confess to knowing everything that happened between the two of you. In fact, I know very little beyond you walking out on him suddenly after you and your dad had it out. Which I'll admit, was sort of a dick move on Griff's part. Him not telling you."

  "Sort of? He invited the devil himself into the bar that night," I pointed out. "And he knew I wanted nothing to do with him. He knew I wouldn't approve of him having contact with the man behind my back."

  "You have to believe that Griff was coming from a good place. We had the picture perfect parents and since we lost them both, our world has been turned upside down. Can't you see that he was trying to lay something in front of you that we don't have? …That we'll never be able to have?"

  I gulped deeply, fighting back a fresh round of tears. The crow I'd just ate working its way down into my already unsettled stomach. He was right. And Griff had said as much the night of the blowout, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own hurt, in the betrayal that I felt, that I hadn't been able to see the act for what it truly was - a kindhearted gesture, one coming from a place of love.

  God, I was an idiot.

  "Griff loves you, Kennedy-"

  "He doesn't," I said flatly, bitterly. My heart didn't appreciate the breaking it was doing all over again. It was sick to death of breaking. Worse even, was the sudden realization that I'd been the reason behind the breaking. Not Griff. Me.

  "Yes, he does," he said, not backing down.

  "He hasn't called-" I began, grasping for straws, trying desperately not to cry.

  "You left him," he said, speaking over me. "I do know that much. Why…on Earth…would he call you when you all but asked him not to?"

  I sucked in sharply, realizing I was almost out of arguments...excuses. What to do now? That was the question. "I'm a mess," I finally admitted, diverting my eyes away from his again.

  "So is he."

  "He hurt me," I pointed out.

  "And he knows that," he said. I felt his hand slide over mine, jerking my attention back in his direction. His face was soft and apologetic, every bit as serious now as he was when he apologized months ago after the concert.

  Dammit he ate humble pie so…humbly.

  "But he didn't mean to…And he's sorry," he said slowly. "I do know that. He wrote a song the other day about being sorry and I'm pretty sure I know who it was about."

  "How's that?"

  "Because the song had three words - I'm fucking sorry - and only one chord," he explained, sighing in between sentences. "He strummed the chord like a madman until the strings broke and then made toothpicks out of the guitar afterwards."

  "He lied to me," I added. It was my final straw. And not a very good one because I said it so meekly I barely heard my own voice.

  "He omitted something that he thought wasn't important," he said smiling.

  "It was important to me," I explained, gesturing towards myself.

  He nodded. "Yeah, we get it now," he joked, the comment earning a chuckle from me. "We're guys and by definition, that makes us idiots. We try our best but most days, we get it wrong. All we can offer is to try and do it better next time."

  "So, if he's so sorry, why are you here and not him?" I questioned, his words finally penetrating my thick skull.

  "For one, he doesn't have a recording contract," he explained, his eyes dancing around mischievously. "Kind of hard to get a gig playing for the number one tennis player in the world and his bride-to-be when you're not as famous as me..."

  "In other words, he has no clue that you're here," I said swiftly, hoping like hell that my sudden intuition was simply an impulsive thought and not the truth. When he didn't answer, I felt my face fall along with my pride. "Holy effing shit. He doesn't even know you're here," I said, restating the words as I sucked in my cheek.

  "I-"

  Don't you dare lie, said the gaze that I shot him.

  "Okay, maybe he sorta, kinda doesn't," he admitted. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought about his impromptu, unapproved visit, but he cut me off. "But listen to me. Hear me out, please."

  "Oh this better be good," I said cynically.

  "There's this songwriter's showcase that we're hosting at Callahan's.," he explained. "We're bringing in a handful of talented writers to showcase their songs. I'll be there along with some important people from the industry. It's a closed event, invitation only. I'd like for you to come and play," he offered.

  "This is your peace offering?" I questioned, scowling. Just the mere thought of getting up in front of people who didn't believe in me made my stomach turn, and I wasn't exactly in the best mindset to try and win someone over. This idea was completely crazy. Wasn't it?

  Burnt sausage balls!

  Why was I getting the nervous jitters? Exactly like the ones I'd always felt just prior to climbing on stage. This was not good.

  "Actually, yes," he said, confusion creeping onto his features. "It's the perfect way to make a grand gesture while doing something that you love. It could be great exposure and an even better financial opportunity. It's a win, win, Kennedy…Love and money." His grin had returned. Too bad mine had yet to surface. I frowned. "What do you say?"

  "I think it's the most ridiculous idea you've had to date. And I happen to know that you've had some pretty outrageous ideas," I said irritably, much more angry with myself than him. Why couldn't I just say no? Just stuff this pesky Callahan in my past along with the other one? However frustrating the answer was, it was an easy one. Griff Callahan was anything but in my past, no matter how damned hard I'd tried.

  My addicted heart wouldn't let my love die.

  "You want me…to go back to Nashville…and perform in front of a bunch of industry people?" I questioned, making sure to shed light on how ludicrous his proposal actually was. "You do know that any chances of me having a career in country music were practically ruined because someone thought it'd be a good idea to propose to me on national television and then made me look like an even bigger asshat when I fell for his brother?"

  The argument tumbling from my lips held some very valid points. The idea was preposterous for all of the reasons I'd verbalized and then some. So why, in God's name, was I already mentally on a plane, headed towards the raven haired man whose name I'd cursed for the last ninety days? Stupid, ugly, bloody frigging love. That's why.

  "It's not like you're auditioning for a record deal…" he offered, throwing in an apologetic shrug afterward.

  "Then what exactly will I be auditioning for?"

  "My brother's heart, of course. Tomorrow night."

  My hands began to tingle as my heart rate kicked up a notch. A familiar, antsy itch began to take shape…And was that excitement that had just reached the surface, peppering my skin with chill bumps? All signs pointed to a shoot from my hip, irrational, sporadic decision making moment. Hadn't I learned my lesson? Hadn't I put snap decision making in the past?

  Negative Ghost Rider.

  "No way I'll get a commercial flight that quickly."

  A victorious smile swept across his face as he leaned back comfortably in his seat. He slapped excited hands across his thighs. "Well then it's a good thing I've chartered a private jet with enough space for one extra passenger."

  "Mick, you're on in five," Mitchell said from beside us, shooting a thin smile in my direction. Because my forgiveness for Mick had yet to trickle down to the rest of his camp, I ignored him altogether. Mick looked over his shoulder and nodded, asking quietly for another minute.

  "So we have a deal?" he questioned, looking back at me.

  "As long as Mitchell doesn't come within five feet of me on the plane."

  His stupid grin spread wider, nearly reaching his ears. He stood from the table quickly, his excitement bubbling over onto me. Taking two steps in the direction of the small stage, he stopped short, turning back to me.

  "I just have one question," he said. I cocked my head to the side, all ears. "You think you and I would've ever worked?"

  "You have GOT to be kidding me!"

  He burst into laughter, winking over at me. "Gotcha, Sugar," he teased. "I'm gonna hop on the stage now. Don't you go anywhere," he said winking. "Next stop, Nashville, Tennessee."

  God, I'd heard those words before. I'd never forget those words. They'd caused me a lot of trouble, but they'd also led me to Griff. Hopefully my life was on shuffle and not repeat.

  Only time would tell.

  Epilogue

  "Sutter, everything inside me says this is a bad idea," I said softly, looking out at the crowded room through the crack in the curtains. When Mick had said a few industry people, he'd meant standing room only. His definition of the word and mine were clearly on opposing ends of the spectrum.

  She came to stand before me, her blue eyes giving me a onceover. "You're going to be fine. Trust me," she said, smiling as she reached out to touch my hair. She gave it a subtle tweak, sweeping it out of my eyes. "What'd your sister say?" she asked, trying to deflect my nerves.

  "She said she'd never speak to me again if I didn't come," I mumbled, reliving the conversation in my mind. "Something along the lines of facing your fears, not living life with regret…yada, yada, yada…insert sappy bullshit here," I mumbled, my voice trailing off. "She doesn't know how to be unhappy right now. She just got married and is pooping happy, bridal turds. Everything is sunshine and rainbows."

  Sutter shook her head, laughing at my bad humor. "You shouldn't know how to be unhappy either," she said softly, bringing her hands up to give my arms an encouraging squeeze. "You won't be after tonight."

  "At least someone's sure," I said halfheartedly, but forced a smile anyway to show her my appreciation. She didn't have to be back here encouraging me, rooting for me. I had technically walked out on her brother who had been nothing but wonderful to me after we'd managed to move past our differences. That was Sutter though, a nurturer by nature who always saw the good in people. It was one of the many reasons that I'd grown to love her and it was high time she knew what she'd come to mean to me. "Sutter," I said softly.

  "Kennedy, you're getting on that stage-"

  I laughed, cutting her off. "What I was going to say was…thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you," I repeated. "You've become so much more to me than a friend. You're the closest thing that I have to family stateside and regardless of what happens with Griff, I don't want that to change."

  The tears began to well up in her eyes before I could discourage them. "Oh, Kennedy, I feel the same," she said softly, pulling me into a bear hug.

  "I got you something," I said suddenly, snapping my fingers excitedly as I released her and headed towards the corner of the room.

  She eyed me quizzically. "A twelve pack?"

  I nodded, shoving the beer into her chest. "I told you I'd pay you back. Remember?"

  She chuckled, shaking her head. "But it was only a six pack…"

  "Just consider the extra six payment towards interest."

  "You two planning on wrapping up your love fest sometime soon? Kennedy, the stage is yours when you're ready," Mick said, startling us both. He held his hand out, offering me a glass of whiskey.

  "No thanks," I said, thinking it'd be best to enter the night with a clear mind.

  He shrugged, throwing the glass back and downing the drink in one gulp. "You ready?" he asked afterwards.

  "Yes, of course," I said nodding as Sutter dug my mom's guitar out of its case and handed it to me. "Can I have just a quick moment…alone?" I asked the both of them.

  They made their exit quietly.

  Using the time wisely, I closed my eyes, shutting out everything else - all of the background noise. It was just me and my guitar and the sound of my own breath, in and out, over and over

  You can do this. You can do this.

  My fingers worked their way across the strings as I chanted the words of encouragement, pressing down chords from memory. I went over the lyrics to the song I'd selected, praying for the hundredth time that something would strike a nerve with Griff. Honestly, I didn't want to think about my life without him. My heart was too damned stubborn to let him go.

  "Okay, Mom," I whispered, hugging the familiar wood to my chest. "Here's to hoping that different truly is special," I said, allowing the sounds of the bar entry back into my mind as I stepped out onto stage.

  As I sat down on the stool situated in the middle of the stage and saw the faces of unknowns staring back up at me, I realized exactly how much I'd been missing. Being on stage was where I belonged. It was home. There was only one thing that could make this moment better and I was about to shoot from the hip and give it all I had.

  Here goes nothing.

  "My name is Kennedy Masters and this song's called "Love Strung"."

  *****

  I could barely control the uneven galloping of my heart as I stepped off of the stage. There was nothing like that high, absolutely nothing.

  "Kennedy."

  Well, maybe not nothing.

  Simply hearing his voice sent splintering chills down my spine. He hadn't been there and then he was. I had practically smashed into his pectorals before he'd said my name. Now I was simply drooling over his beautiful face. My eyes zeroed in on his, trying to glean his reaction to my being here…to everything.

  "Is now a bad time to say 'surprise'?" I questioned meekly, mentally chastising my idiocy. That was not the first line I'd practiced. Not by a long shot. "What I meant was…"

  "Kennedy Masters?" a tall brunette said from my side.

  My attention regretfully slid from Griff's to hers as I assessed her features for familiarity. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" I questioned, silently praying that Griff wouldn't take the interruption as an opportunity to bolt.

  "No, you don't," she said, smiling, "but I'd like you to. The name's Sage Davenport, I'm-"

  "From Davenport Publishing," Griff said cutting in, his features showing recognition.

  She shot him a refreshing smile, shrugging as she held one of her hands out to her side. "That's me," she confirmed, digging underneath her other arm to produce an expensive clutch before fishing inside. She pulled out a small, rectangular card that only meant one thing. "I'd like to give you my card. My sisters and I are starting a label and searching for new talent…both singers and songwriter's. I've got a good feeling about you…"

  I reached for the card with shaky hands, my ears no longer processing her words as English. She sounded more like Charlie Brown's teacher.

  Hadn't she read the papers? Didn't she know who I was?

  "I-" I began, but no words followed. I licked my lips, my mouth depleting of saliva. I needed to get it together before this woman decided I was a complete idiot. "I-"

  Griff plucked the card from my frozen fingers, sliding it in the pocket of his plaid shirt with ease. "Sage, she'll call you if she's interested," he said like he handled business proposals for a living.

  She smiled broadly, her cheeks reaching towards her eyes. "That's really all I can hope for," she said sincerely, sticking her hand out in front of me. I shook it heartily. At least my limbs were still working. "I truly hope you'll come down to Davenport Publishing and hear what we've got to say. I think it'll be worth your while."

  There were ample amounts of awkward silence where we didn't speak and my hand stayed in hers. Was she serious? Jelly donuts, she was. "I-uh, thank you. I'll do that," I finally managed.

  We both watched her walk away, my tongue still stunned into silence.

  "Did that just happen?" I questioned.

  He chuckled as his mouth slid into a grin. My heart did a flawless double back in my chest, nailing the landing. Mary Lou would've been proud. "Let's just hope your musical talents continue to soar above your negotiation skills."

  I grinned. "That bad, huh?"

  "Pretty bad," he said through a good-natured grimace. He ran a hand over his hair before his hand found his hip. I'd missed those subtle actions that were unique only to him. "You want to tell me what you're doing here?" he questioned, shifting gears.

  "What's your stance on apologies?" I asked, stepping in close. When he didn't back away, my heart pulled upwards, celebrating a small victory.

  He took a step towards me, our toes practically touching. "I guess it depends on who it's coming from," he said softly, smiling as his hand moved up to brush my hair off of my shoulder. "You giving me one?"

  I nodded. "Trying to," I admitted, reaching out hesitantly, my hand hovering over his chest. It was a knee-jerk reaction, something done out of pure animalistic longing, from the need to be close to him without even thinking. He grabbed my hand with his, pulling it onto the fabric as he pressed my palm down over his chest. I could feel his heart pounding beneath my fingertips.

  "It's working," he mumbled, tugging me forward into his arms. My face dug into his chest as my arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. "I'm sorry, Kennedy. I never meant to hurt you," he whispered into my hair. "I was only trying to love you."