We say our goodbyes and though it was good to chat and catch up with my new sister-in-law, now that we’ve hung up, I’m aware of how alone I am. Nashville will be lonely as well. Sure, I have friends there and it’ll be good to catch up with them. However, there’s something different about driving to Nashville this time compared to how it was the first time.

  The more I think about it, though, the more sense it makes that of course it’s different this time. I had no idea what to expect then. Now, having lived there for almost two years, I no longer have the rose-colored glasses on. I know from my own experiences how hard it is to make it big, to get that record deal, and to see your name in lights. It’s damn hard.

  I grip the steering wheeler tighter, determined that when I drive out of Nashville next time, it’ll be on my own terms.

  Fourteen

  “There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

  To say life at the camp is different without Carsen would be an understatement. At first I thought I was the only one upset by her vacancy. I told myself not to be absurd, she’d worked at the camp for only a month, there is no need to act as though I’ve lost my best friend. The campers obviously don’t know about her absence and since you can’t miss what you know, they remain in blissful ignorance. It’s only when Grant, a retired gentleman who’s been with me almost from the start, finds me walking by the lake early one morning a little over a week after she left, that it becomes clear Carsen left her mark on everyone.

  “Is it just me,” he says, joining in and walking beside me. “Or is there a hint of spring in the air?”

  It’s so cold we can see our breath when we talk. Normally by the first of March we can tell it will soon be spring, but not this year. This year has been unseasonably cold.

  “I’d love to agree with you, but I haven’t seen any signs of spring,” I tell him.

  After we walk further, he continues, “It’s most likely me trying to find something to believe spring will be here soon. Everything sure has been bleak since Ms. Taber left.”

  I almost trip and Grant pauses to make sure I’m all right. I assure him I am. “We knew she was only here for a month,” I say. “It’s not as if her leaving took anyone by surprise.”

  “I thought she’d stay,” Grant says.

  “You did? Why?”

  “She fit in so well here and the two of you together reminded me of when me and my Betta were young.”

  I say nothing in response to him. First, because I thought Carsen and I had done a great job pretending like there was nothing between us. Also, Betta was his wife of fifty-four years and she passed right before he came to work for me. Six years after her death, he’s still not over her and rarely speaks her name.

  “Have you heard from Ms. Taber?” He asks.

  He means nothing by it and he’s only being nice, but damn it all, I’ll be glad when I can go one day without someone asking me that question.

  “Just that she arrived safely,” I answer.

  “Competition is soon, right?”

  “Less than a week.”

  “I imagine she must be busy with rehearsals and all.”

  “I suppose.” She could still send a text or an email or something. It’s like she drove to Nashville and forgot all about me. About us. I know we said we were only together for the month she was here, but I didn’t expect her to go off-grid after.

  “Are you going to the competition?”

  And with that he asked the second most hated question I’m asked. “I haven’t received an invitation yet.”

  Fortunately, he stops there with the twenty questions. It’s as if he’s as shocked as I am. I really would have thought Carsen would have asked me to come see her. But then again, maybe not. If Elliott and Darcy will be there, she might not invite me. As far as I’m aware, she never told either of them about us. It’s doubtful she’d want to explain about us during the middle of the most important competition of her life.

  We make our way back to the main campus. It’s just before nine and the campers are finishing breakfast. A few are making their way out of the dining hall and they stop and say good morning to me before scampering off to their next activity.

  I watch as they take off for the dorms, hating that I’m standing in the middle of my camp feeling lost. I shouldn’t feel like this. Carsen’s absence should not have me feeling adrift and alone. I take my phone out to text her, but I stop before even bringing her name up. Why am I doing this to myself? I reached out to her last, and it’s childish, but I want her to at least acknowledge me.

  “Tate,” an unexpected voice calls my name and I look up. It’s Elliott and he looks mad as hell. Behind him a few steps, and watching as if she’s waiting for something to blow up, is Darcy.

  “Elliott. Darcy,” I say. “What are you guys doing here?” As soon as the words leave my lips, I know what it is. It’s Carsen. “Is it Carsen? Is she hurt?”

  Because that would explain why she hasn’t replied. Fuck. I’ve been an ass and the entire time she couldn’t help it.

  “Only because of your actions,” Elliott says.

  Grant had walked into the dining hall when we arrived and when someone coughs behind me, I realize it’s him. Not only that, but a quick glance tells me Elliott and I have captured a lot of attention.

  I nod my thanks to Grant and address the couple before me. “Elliott and Darcy, let’s go inside and up to my office so we can speak privately.”

  We don’t speak on the way upstairs but the entire time Elliott looks like he’s ready to bust wide open, so once we make it inside and I close the door, I let him go first.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “I could understand if it only impacted you and Carsen. I wouldn’t like it, but I could understand. What I don’t get is how you could be so flippant about your life’s work. How you could do this to those kids who love you and this place so much.”

  I am expecting to be called out for sleeping with his sister while she was technically my employee or for the roundabout way I managed to get her here in the first place. But questioning my intentions with the kids and my camp?

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Elliott.”

  His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “What?”

  “When have I ever been flippant and not thought about the camp?” My voice is calm and even. I have to keep my cool and not lose my temper. It’s not often I find myself in such a position, but Elliott is dangerously close to the edge. I don’t want to do anything to tip him over.

  His barely contained anger is clear. “What other way could it have been taken when you didn’t return the phone call about speaking to promote your work here at Carsen’s competition?”

  Talking isn’t doing much to keep Elliott calm. Darcy steps closer to him and puts her hand on his arm, whispering something to him I can’t hear. Not that I’m putting much effort into eavesdropping as I’m trying to remember any call remotely resembling what Elliott’s talking about.

  “I received no sort of phone call,” I tell them.

  Darcy steps in front of Elliott before he can get a word out. “The management of the competition learned that Carsen knew you soon after she arrived in Nashville. They asked her if you’d be interested in saying a word or two about your story, leaving baseball, and what you do here, before they hand the awards out.”

  My first thought is: I can see Carsen. Second one is: Right, promote the camp. Third is: I’m so fucked.

  Darcy continues, “Carsen felt bad about leaving here. Leaving you. She didn’t want to put you on the spot or make you feel as if you had to do it because she had asked. She gave your number to the men that asked and told them it’d be better if one of them called. They told her you never got back in touch with them.”

  I comprehend her words and understand them all, but they don’t make any sense the way she puts them together. I pull my phone out of my pocket to verify what I tell her. “There hasn't been a call or a message or text from anyone about anything having to do with Nashville.”

  “You wouldn’t have got a text. Carsen gave them your landline because cell reception is so iffy out here.” Darcy says this as if I’m unaware about technology. But before I can explain that, no, Carsen had the iffy reception but my provider is fine, what she said before hits me.

  “What landline?”

  * * *

  CARSEN

  The day of the competition I’m a nervous wreck. I can’t help but feel as if I should have tried myself to get in touch with Tate. Even if he wants nothing more to do with me, it doesn’t seem like him to let those feelings get in the way of doing what’s best for his camp.

  When I’d finally broken down and told Elliott and Darcy about Tate not returning the call, they had both been shocked. Actually, livid was a better word for Elliott, which I could understand. But since then, both my brother and his new wife have been hard to reach.

  The original plan when I’d first learned of my entry was that they would arrive the day before and I’d spend the night with them in a hotel. However, they’d called yesterday to say something came up and they wouldn’t be arriving until today. What the hell, right?

  Two hours before we’re supposed to start, I still haven’t seen or heard from them. I’m at the venue with my hair and makeup done. My new outfit looks great and I’m sitting in a large room with the other contestants.

  It’s one of those uncomfortable situations where everyone is all fake smiles and full of I don’t really mean it well wishes. I’m wondering where in the hell my family’s at and if I’ll have anyone I know in the audience, when someone with a clipboard walks in and calls my name.

  I raise my hand and she walks toward me with an envelope.

  “This is for you,” she says, handing it to me.

  I recognize Tate’s handwriting and look up wanting to know where and how she got it, but she’s walking away.

  Bewildered, I open and read.

  Carsen,

  Forgive me for writing this. I wanted to explain everything in person, but I waited too long and they won’t let me see you now. Don’t be mad at Elliott and Darcy either, I asked them to keep quiet about this, so last night was my doing. I have much to tell you and I pray you will let me.

  Again, sorry for the note, but I didn’t want you to step out on that stage without knowing I’m here and that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  Yours,

  Tate

  P.S. Susan has been fired.

  * * *

  I read the note again a second time.

  And a third, just to confirm it actually says what I think I read the first two times.

  Tate is here. In Nashville. For me.

  And though he didn’t say it in so many words, I’m guessing his lack of reply has less to do with him and more to do with Susan, seeing how he makes it a point to tell me he fired her.

  Holy shit! Had Susan not told Tate about the calls on purpose? If that turns out to be the truth, then I was angry at him for no reason. What’s more, he’s probably been wondering what my problem has been. And yet he still showed up today.

  It hits me, he’s here. Like, here, here. Most likely just a few steps outside this room. I haven’t been letting myself think about missing him, but now I allow those feelings inside and I want to see him so badly, I contemplate trying to sneak out of this room.

  There’s no way to sneak out though, not with the only door in plain sight of everyone in the room. Besides, a quick look at the clock tells me I don’t have the time to do any such thing.

  Sure enough, what feels like only seconds later, we’re told it’s time. There are fifteen of us competing this year and I’m dead last to perform. They told us the order is random, but I’d drop a lot of cash to bet it’s based on the order we confirmed our spot.

  We are each to preform two songs: a cover and an original. All that means is I still have a long ass wait, even after everything starts. I’d like to sit back and take it easy, but there’s no way to relax when you know the possibility exists for you to be signing a record deal by the end of the night.

  “It’s actually better if you don’t win,” I hear one contestant telling another. I glance over my shoulder to see which one and they’re both males. One is number thirteen and one is fourteen.

  “How can that be?” Fourteen asks. “The winner gets a record deal with Seven Saints.”

  “Right,” Thirteen answers. “But did you read the release you signed last year when you applied?”

  “No.”

  I’m not even trying to pretend like I’m not listening to them because I sure as hell didn’t read anything. I mean if you didn’t sign it, you couldn’t enter.

  “If you win, Seven Saints basically owns your career and your original song.” Thirteen shrugs but doesn’t look too upset about what he’s saying.

  Fourteen doesn’t look so sure. “How do you know about all this?”

  “Buddy of mine has an agent, and she told him about it when he mentioned I’d be invited to compete. But I’m still here, aren’t I? At least it’d be something. I figure being owned by them is better than being owned by nobody, right?”

  I’m not so sure. Tate had looked very serious when he told me not to sign anything without having it looked over. I plan to take his advice, but never thought about what I might have signed previously.

  Twelve is called and Thirteen stands to get ready.

  I don’t know what to think, much less what to do, with the information I’ve just learned.

  In the end, I do exactly what I’d planned when I woke up this morning. I walk out on stage and sing.

  Fifteen

  “You don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.” – Oscar Wilde

  After I preform, I’m led to a section of the audience where I sit with the other contestants. Because of the lighting in the auditorium we’re in, I hadn’t been able to see or make out any faces in the crowd while I was signing. Though when I finished, I think I heard Elliott’s whistle.

  The stage is clear and the judges have left to go backstage to pick the winner. This is the point they’d wanted Tate to speak. Based on everything I’ve put together, he never received the invitation. Which is why I’m in shock when he walks out on stage.

  It’s only been a handful of weeks since I last saw him, but tears prickle my eyes because seeing him again makes me realize how much I miss him.

  He walks out as if it’s something he does every day. He’s calm and unaffected by the craziness surrounding him. Seeing him overwhelms me with peace.

  “Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” he starts and a low buzz overtakes the crowd as people try to figure out who he is. “My name is Tate Maddox, though most of you probably know me best as Tommy Maddox.”

  The crowd murmurs and Fourteen, sitting on my right, leans forward. “No way.”

  Tate smiles. “Yes, I’m That Guy or That Idiot depending on what you think about my actions seven years ago. I knew then I’d made the right decision, but I felt the need to constantly explain myself. And as a result, I became something of a recluse.

  “I never thought of myself as such. I run a camp for at-risk kids, so how could I be considered a recluse while working with children and my staff and finding support for both?”

  With those few words he’s captivated his audience, and I can see the Tate that used to be called The Golden Son.

  “But over the last few months, I’ve learned that even though I was around people, I held part of myself back. I made up rules I said were to protect me, but in reality, kept me apart from the rest of the world. I was alive, but not living. It wasn’t until a chance meeting with a woman headed in the opposite direction from me, taught me that only by taking risks can you find the incredible, and only by sharing your heart can you find the one who completes yours.

  “You may ask yourself what this has to do with the competition we’ve been watching, and I’m here to tell you it has everything to do with it. These fifteen contestants have already shown they will take risks, and for that, no matter what the outcome, they are all winners. Thank you.”

  Everyone stands and claps, and I join them even though I can’t see anything through my tears. He was talking about me. How I complete his heart.

  One judge walks over to Tate and shakes his hand. In his other hand is an envelope. He’s getting ready to announce the winner and I don’t care whose name is inside that envelope.

  Because I’ve just hit the jackpot.

  * * *

  TATE

  I hold my breath as the man onstage reads the name of the winner and let it out in a whoosh because it’s not Carsen’s name he calls. What the fuck? How did she not win?

  “Is it wrong I’m glad?” Darcy, who is sitting between me and Elliot asks. “That guy from Seven Saints looks evil.”

  The man in question is up on the stage now, congratulating the woman who won. Around us other spectators are gathering their belongings and leaving. I scan the crowd for Carsen, but I don’t see her. I step into the aisle to find her, but I’m quickly surrounded by people wanting to talk.

  On the outside, I smile and act polite, but on the inside I’m screaming at them to get out of my way. Carsen won’t leave without speaking to me, will she? I shake the hand of a guy who’s introducing himself, while at the same time I look over his shoulder to find I’ve almost made it to the end of my aisle.

  And standing there waiting, is Carsen.

  “Excuse me,” I say stepping around the guy beside me so I can get to her.

  “Hi,” I say when I do.

  She doesn’t answer, but sniffles and puts her arms around me. All the built up tension of the last few weeks leaves my body at her touch. I pull her closer.