“You agreeing to work a wedding for the first time in your life wouldn’t have anything to do with Eclipse on the lineup next weekend, would it?” Sawyer asked.
Lately, Georgia had been looking for signs, some kind of direction to take in her life, simply because she seemed to be floating in no particular direction. And Memphis was pressing her hard to find stability—he feared if she didn’t have it, Hunter would be able to suck her right back into his train wreck hands. Ha. Over her dead body.
The last sign she took, the reason she wasn’t letting anxiety cripple her from going home, was because this trip was occurring across the weekend Hunter’s band was due back at Sawyer’s bar.
She pointed her lit cigarette at him. “I didn’t book that one.”
“It was attached to the headliner. I wasn’t going to ask you to come in anyway. I mean, hell, I was going to send you on a weekend trip, just not home.”
“You have something to say about Willowhaven now?” Sawyer always had something to say about something.
“Nope. Just know you’re never coming back from there, and you’ve kind of grown on me.”
“Small town, not my style,” she said to ease his worries.
He quirked a brow. “By my very observant calculations, it’s the only style you haven’t tried on for a fit. Your brother confirmed as much when I met him.”
Georgia shrugged a shoulder. “Pops, I’m leaving for a family wedding. You can cancel the added security you have for next weekend.”
“That’s in place because Eclipse stirred up some trouble at my friend’s bar.”
She willed herself not to ask, not to wonder how bad Hunter was at this point.
“Drugs. A lot of them. You need to keep clear, really clear. Like out of the state clear,” Sawyer warned.
“Not an issue,” she said as she put out her cigarette and stood.
He stood with her, gave her a deep, reverent gaze. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But if your brother manages to get you to unpack a bag, stay awhile.”
“Making my head spin, Sawyer,” she teased.
He moved his head from side to side. “I just want you to feel at home. Here or there. Just at home.”
“Me, too,” she said under her breath.
She spent her entire flight going over every moment of the last time she was in Willowhaven, and each time before it. She was trying to prepare herself for whatever emotional roller coaster was waiting on her.
She thought she had planned her arrival in Willowhaven to perfection, meaning it fell right on Memphis’s on shift—he always worked twenty-four on and forty-eight off. She figured if she made it to town, checked into a hotel, and paid for her entire stay then she would have a solid ‘whoops’ excuse when he told her he wanted her to stay with him.
Because her father had traveled so much when he was alive and because her grandmother was older, he’d lived with her. Now, their grandmother had moved in with her sisters across town. The house was given to Memphis. Staying there, in the midst of those memories, was going to kill Georgia—and point out how she was in a rut and needed to get a direction.
She was wrong about fooling Memphis. Standing six-three, built head-to-toe, dressed in his black fatigues and Willowhaven Fire Department shirt, was her brother. His dark eyes glistened with a ‘thought you had me’ smirk.
“I could’ve grabbed a cab. They do have those here, don’t they?” Georgia teased as she reached her arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug.
“It would have cost you a solid hundred to get to Willowhaven,” he said, taking her bag loaded with her laptop and cameras. He was the only soul on the planet she would’ve trusted to do so—he was holding the very essence of her life in his hands.
“I thought I told you my flight came in the morning?”
“Yep, you did,” Memphis said, draping his wide arm around her. “And your buddy Sawyer called to tell me you were safely on your way.”
She winced.
“He also told me to unpack your bag as you slept.”
“I bet he did,” she said, shaking her head. “I booked a room already.”
“Right, it’s called my house. Not arguing.”
Georgia sucked in a deep breath and told herself this would be good, it would show her she was over her grief—the lie tasted horrible.
“Tonight I have you all to myself,” Memphis declared.
“I told you I was staying for a solid two weeks.”
He angled his dark stare at her. “You know, the only reason I backed off a bit about you moving here was because you’d let Sawyer into your life. I didn’t realize he was important enough to rush back to.”
“Work, Memphis. I have a career, believe it or not.”
“And it’s online for the most part.”
“Can we get out of the airport before you give me a panic attack?”
He pulled her closer. “I just worry about you, kid.”
Me, too, she thought, but forced a smile.
Georgia paced nervously at the baggage terminal, watching everyone on her plane grab their bags. Seeing the empty, scarred, turning silver table roll by her made her feel both anxious and devastated.
How sad would it be that one flight would strip all belongings from one person? All the clothes, makeup, and shoes at least. She was adding up the cost to replace her stuff as if she didn’t have a dime to her name. She made the word ‘frugal’ look indulgent.
Ten agonizing minutes later, her bags shifted around, looking as if they had seen better days. Good thing her luggage was built to take a beating, to handle the road.
“I guess you weren’t joking. Two full weeks, huh?” Memphis said as he layered her bags across his shoulders as if they were weightless. She didn’t bother to tell him no matter how long she stayed she would’ve brought everything. Nor did she point out those were all the material items she had. It would only bring about another lecture.
In the garage, she bit her lip, trying to hide a grin. There, his massive black crew cab truck sat, decked out with emergency lights and chrome. “What, no company car?” she teased, knowing this was all his. The same ride he’d had for the better part of a decade. It still looked new, not a scratch on it and polished to the point of reflection. She supposed she wasn’t the only one who saw no need in chasing the new.
“Not unless you’re on fire, little bit,” he said, tossing her bags into the back seat after shoving his gear to the other side.
“Harley’s not, like, a drama queen, is she?” Georgia asked when she climbed in the truck. Reality had hit her. She was for real going to photograph this wedding. See Easton.
Memphis laughed and shook his head. “Not even close. She’s upset you returned her payment, though.”
“This is a gift to Wyatt…besides, you can’t fire someone who works for free,” she quipped.
The nearly hour-long haul to the town of Willowhaven was too fast in Georgia’s mind. The closer to ‘home’ the bigger the threat of anxiety.
When he pulled onto his street Georgia did feel her heart pick up a beat or two, but by the time he’d pulled in the driveway, she had steadied herself. You got this, she chanted over and over.
“Looks good,” she said, nodding to the sharp kept lawn—no flowers, she noted, but crisp edges, just like her brother and his style.
All the houses this close to town had this time capsule around them. They’d managed to freeze in a classic era; nothing too outlandish in the architecture, yet the eccentric, historic look was in place.
The house wasn’t even in a neighborhood. It was on one of the streets branching out from a town built in the 1800s.
“I try,” Memphis said, stepping out of the cab of the truck and grabbing her bags.
The front door opened to a living room that held only a wrap around leather couch and a coffee table, one standing lamp, and of course a sixty-inch TV.
He pushed down the hall with her stuff. “The second bedroom down here is my gym, and I’m s
till figuring out how to refinish the upstairs rooms. There’s no furniture up there, just storage. Might even just make it into a studio, rent it out or something.” The glance over his shoulder was not to see if she was following him. He was dropping hints she didn’t want to pick up. She couldn’t imagine living in this town. Living with the constant nostalgia she was feeling now.
“I’ll take the couch, Memphis. Or you know, I still have a reservation.”
He plopped her bags down on his king size bed. “I crash more nights on the couch than I do in here.”
“Do I want to know what goes on when you do decide to use your bed?” she asked with a bounce of her brows.
“I changed the sheets,” he said with a teasing smile. He pulled her in the room and said, “The closet to the left is empty, hangers in place. Unpack. I’ll order us up some dinner.”
In the echo of the house, she heard Memphis’s phone beep. The very next second, a burst of static blared across the room. “Ballantine, you clear?”
“Ten-four, ready for home,” Easton’s deep, southern tone resonated.
Georgia’s heart slammed into her chest. He’s right there… Georgia took a shuddering breath, cussing herself. She could not act like this around him this weekend—nope.
Memphis stepped back in to grab the radio, turned it down. He stopped short when he turned around—Georgia looked like she’d seen a ghost, and she was nearly panting.
“What the hell?” he asked, moving forward and wondering what flipped her switch.
Georgia shook her head, pulling herself out of the past. “It was loud.”
He drew his brow in question.
“Are…are they okay, I mean…what are they doing?”
Memphis glanced down to the radio. “Heading back to the station.”
“Good,” she said as she started to pull her things out of her bag a bit too harshly.
“Georgia…what’s going on with you?”
She glanced away. “It’s just…” She balled her fist. “It’s fucking hard being here.”
His dim gaze shifted over her. “Why?”
“Why?”
“You heard me. I have yet to hear you admit he’s gone. You’ve avoided this town and this house for three solid years. Say it. Let’s rip it all out right here, right now, Georgia.”
“Two.” The last two—she did come home for the first Christmas after he died—twenty-four hours of hell. “I know he’s gone,” she snapped.
“So what? You don’t want to be around me?”
More like who you’re attached to…
Thinking about Easton made her think about what he got her through. How he made it go away on the creek he called a river…and it made her remember they both lost a great man.
“I can hear him in this house,” she said, throwing more of her stuff out of her bag. “I feel every regret.”
He dipped his head to meet her eyes. “That shouldn’t make you afraid.” He lifted his chin. “It should make you wake up and live.”
She glared. “Why do you think I’m not living?”
“‘Cause you’re not. It’s not where you are or what you do that matters, it’s who you are with. I’m all good with the finding yourself bullshit, but you’ve pulled this loner card your whole life.”
“And I still got burned,” she snapped.
He turned his head in a pissed, sharp fashion. “It’s part of it. Life. Get over it and live.”
Georgia drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know how to do this…”
“Do what?” he asked, dumbfounded.
She looked to her side. “Let people in.”
“Make some friends. Hell, actually hang out with me. I wouldn’t have gotten through losing Dad without Easton and Wyatt.”
She was grateful Easton helped him but pissed and hurt he kept his distance from her. The irony of it all was when she was with him, she didn’t have to let any wall down…he saw right through the ones she had in place.
“Memphis. I’m here. I’m trying.” She tossed more things out of her bag. “I’m trying to figure out how to make him proud.”
He drew his chin upward. “If it fucking kills me I’m going to find a reason for you to settle—here or there. I’m over the hotel business. You may have left Hunter but you are still in the rut he dug you into.”
No, she wasn’t—well, maybe.
“Good luck,” she muttered as she went back to unpacking.
***
Sleep was impossible for Georgia. Long after Memphis fell asleep on the couch she roamed the house hearing echoes of the past. There were moments she could have sworn she felt him…it was a peaceful feeling.
Just before dawn she found herself standing on the back porch, looking out at the unfinished tree house.
At first she remembered building it with him, but then, it was Easton.
The boy who stole her pain…
Not willing to punish herself any longer she found her way to her bed and dreamed deeply. Dreamed of finishing the tree house.
***
The rehearsal dinner was a two-part deal. During the afternoon, it was a brunch, set up in tents on the grounds of Willowhaven Farms. It was extremely formal, right down to the wait staff in tuxedos. Apparently later there was a more dressed down version at the pub downtown.
There was far more than the wedding party and family at the first rehearsal. There were so many people that it took her a good hour to assume that Easton wasn’t there. Which disappointed her and gave her a breath at the same time.
“Do you need anything?” Harley asked Georgia.
Harley was going to be a ravishing bride. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled back, and her eyes were a bright mix of blue and green. The freckles on her cheeks that the sun had brought out reflected innocence.
“I’m perfect,” Georgia said, wanting to keep her distance. Standing next to the bride would not help aid the obscure stance she liked to have in crowds.
“It means a lot that you came back for this. It meant a lot to Wyatt.”
“He’s always been good to Memphis. I owe him as much.”
Harley smirked. “Memphis has always been good to him, so has Easton…”
It could have been Georgia’s imagination, she told herself it was, but she was sure Harley had said Easton’s name nice and slow as she stared at Georgia.
Georgia’s cheeks flamed as she looked away. She was afraid of two things: seeing him in general, and hearing he was living in some happily ever after.
“I envy the bond the boys have,” Georgia finally said just to keep a professional persona.
“It keeps them safe, and out of trouble for the most part, but I’ll make a deal with you.”
Georgia met her stare.
“You hang out past these two weeks and we’ll make our own clique.”
Georgia smiled and glanced at the hundreds of people around them. “I think your clique is big enough.”
Harley shook her head. “I don’t let a lot of people close to me. Wyatt’s mom and sister are the only girls I really know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to when the boys are on shift.”
A half smile met Georgia’s lips. “When you come back from your honeymoon give me call, even if I’m not here. I never stop traveling, so swinging by here wouldn’t be hard to do.”
“Ah, but if you only swing by, Memphis will steal you away. If you stay here, then we might have a chance at getting coffee a time or two.”
Georgia laughed. “Did he put you up to this?”
Harley tried not to smile but she did. “Yes, but not outright. I can just read him, and I asked a few questions…the rest was woman’s intuition.”
“Memphis is easy to read for the most part,” Georgia agreed.
“Not Memphis,” Harley said with a wry smile before she walked away.
Georgia felt her heart thunder in her chest. She told herself Harley was talking about Wyatt, and Wyatt only wanted her here because it eased Memphis.
/> When the party started to wind down, she made her way to her grandmother.
This was one of her grandmother’s ‘good days.’ Half the reason she moved in with her sisters was because it was getting harder and harder for her to focus. The family was afraid she was slipping into some kind of dementia.
Apparently good days meant she was clear and blunt.
“I found your house,” Marie Armstrong said to her in a raspy voice that barely reached a whisper.
When she saw Georgia’s wide gaze, the fright of being faced with this discussion once again, Marie laughed.
“You’re just like your father, child,” she said with a careful tilt of her head. “He always thought this town was too small for him. Not enough room to run, he used to say,” she said as her eyes glinted with pride, almost as if she could hear him saying those very words. “You know what I told him?” she asked Georgia.
Georgia shook her head.
“Roots, son. You need roots. Not to tie to you down, but so when the world knocks you down you can come home and grow again. Roots are a catalyst, not a prison. We grow deep within. The world only sees the blossoms, and sometimes those blossoms must wilt for new life to come.”
Georgia lifted a brow, now understanding why the last wish Lucas had was for his children to have a ‘root,’ at least that is what the lawyer said. Which was too broad of a statement for Georgia to understand at seventeen, much less twenty-two.
Georgia glanced at Memphis, who was just outside the tent laughing with one of their cousins. “Memphis told you to tell me that, didn’t he,” she said with a lifted brow.
Marie Armstrong shook her head and swatted her hand in the air like that was the craziest thing ever. “Like he could find you a house. I had to give him mine.” She reached in her sweater and pulled out a card. “I’ve been thinking about this long and hard, prayed about it, I tell you, and this is what I’ve come up with. This man will sell at a below market offer. He owes me a favor.”
“I’ll never stay there. I don’t know where I’m going to end up.”
“Are you listening to me? I told you roots, darlin’. I don’t care if it sits empty forever. You just need a place to land.”
When Georgia’s shoulders deflated Marie knew she was getting through to her and kept pushing. “I saw you there, I did. I thought to myself years back it would be the perfect house for you.”