Libby’s laughter is full and loud. My brows tug together as I try to figure out what’s so funny about that question.
“What?” I ask. “People don’t just have recording studios at their house, do they? If that’s a thing, I’ve definitely been living the wrong life.”
“Nope. Normal people don’t have them. But Kelvin McCoy does. You know, the country music star.”
She just tosses that out there for me to catch and then goes silent. Maybe she knew I’d need a minute for that to sink in.
A barrage of information bolts through my mind.
Of course, I know who Kelvin McCoy is. He’s on half of the rag magazines next to the cash register at every store in America. I also know he’s from Savannah because Libby mentioned it when she saw him perform one summer. I never paid much attention because what do I care?
I care a little more right now.
“You’re telling me that the man who lives beside you is Kelvin McCoy’s brother?” I yelp.
She giggles.
“What are the freaking odds?” I ask, placing my palm against my forehead. “I mean, go big or go home, right? Well, I certainly went big.”
“You went the biggest, my friend.”
I laugh, but it’s more out of pity for myself than humor.
“So, yeah, don’t worry about paying him back,” she teases. “I think he can afford it.”
“Obviously, he can. But that doesn’t mean he should have to.”
A chair slides against the ground. “I’m being honest when I tell you this, okay?”
“Okay …”
“He’ll be offended if you take money over there. He’s always doing little things for us, and I used to scramble to pay him back, but I learned you can’t with him. It’s not tit-for-tat. He’s genuinely a nice person. It’s … kind of odd, almost. You’d expect someone like him to be more standoffish.”
I look across the yard again with my suspicions about Boone Mason confirmed. He is a nice person.
There’s something great about that.
“So, what do I do? Just forget it?” I ask. “Just forget that he did something nice for me because there’s never going to be anything I can do for him because I’m too poor to repay the favor? I just have to suck it up?”
“Was that an innuendo or …?”
I laugh.
“Jax,” she says carefully, “not everything someone does for you is to get something back.”
I make a face. “Eh …”
She sighs. “I’m back to the room now so I need to go. Just stop worrying about everything and relax, okay? New life, new vibe. Breathe that in.”
“Okay.”
The click of a door lock zips through the phone. “Speaking of breathing, if this man doesn’t get up and take me out …”
I smile. “He will. I bet he’s good and rested by now.”
“He better be. Talk to you later, Jaxi.”
“Bye, Lib. Thanks again for everything.”
The call ends.
I press the phone to my chest and look at Boone’s house.
I shouldn’t be surprised that this happened. This is how my life works.
At least it was a hot bachelor and not a slimy Chuck kind of dude.
With a final glance, I shrug and head to the oversized tub in the guest bathroom that’s called my name since I saw it.
I push all things Boone and Chuck and my ex-fiancé Shawn out of my mind and refocus on things that matter. For the first time in my life, I have a chance to start fresh. To carve out a life of my own. A clean—clutter-free and simple—slate.
Selling or giving away everything apart from the contents of my backpack should feel terrifying. The books I read about starting over advise you to prepare yourself for moments of fear. I haven’t had that reaction. Maybe it’s because I’ve learned something really important about myself.
I don’t need things.
A good toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and as many books as I can carry, and I’m good. For the most part, anyway.
This is my time to prove to myself that I can stand on my own two feet.
I’m not about to get all screwed up.
Again.
Five
Boone
“What do you think, Boone?” My eldest brother, Holt, looks at me from across the conference table. “Do you think the Banner property will work, or should we keep looking?”
A coffee pot sits behind him, and all I can think is that the steam looks like it’s coming from his head. And, truth be told, if he knew what I was thinking, there would be heat rising from his head.
I’m tempted to take a picture and text it to Coy and see if he agrees. He’d understand my need for finding things to keep me entertained. He’s not big into business meetings or property acquisition. He doesn’t think that spreadsheets are porn like the rest of them either. Holt, Oliver, and Wade live and breathe the company our grandfather started. I, on the other hand, don’t.
“I think …” I begin, sitting back in my chair and stretching my legs out under the table, “that I’m ready to call it a day.”
Oliver rests his head in his hands.
Wade stares at me like he’s unsure how we’re related.
The aforementioned steam continues to rise above Holt’s head.
“It’s ten in the morning, Boone,” Holt says as if somehow I’m not aware of that.
“I know. You made me show up at six this morning for no apparent reason, and I’ve watched every single minute pass on the clock just above the coffee pot behind you.”
Oliver stands, his chair rolling quietly across the carpeted floor. “And I thought we were making progress with him.”
I love when they talk about me in pronouns.
I roll my eyes and look at the ceiling. “You don’t expect me to want to be here. Can we stop acting like anyone is surprised by this information?”
Wade raises his coffee cup to his mouth. “I’m not surprised. Quite frankly, I’m more surprised every day that I come to this office and find you here.”
My arms fold over my chest as I look at Wade. “You act like I’m never here. I’m here every single day.” My head whips to Oliver. “Or I have been since Coy moved back to town, and you told me how much you guys needed me.”
“I never said that,” Oliver deadpans.
“Nah, you did. You practically begged me. It was one of the best days of my life.”
Holt laughs. “Did you beg him, Ollie?”
“I don’t beg anyone for anything.” Oliver levels his gaze with mine. “And I certainly did not beg my little brother to come to work like the adult he is.”
“Here we go,” Wade mutters, shaking his head.
I grin at Oliver.
Words are unnecessary at this point in the conversation. We both know what I’m about to say. We both also know that I’m right, and there’s nothing he can do about it because I did, in fact, close the biggest deal in our family’s company’s history.
Me.
Not Holt. Not Oliver. Not Wade or Coy.
Me.
Holt kind of loves it because he ultimately looks good with any success in the family business. Wade doesn’t care. He gets sick of me bringing it up, for sure, but Wade is beyond mere mortal things like pissing contests. He’s above that, off in Wade’s world doing Wade things, and Coy has Grammys, so he beats us all without even competing.