Page 4 of The Love Chase

She waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. Start working on songs for the next album, and send me what you have at the end of each week. Once you’ve made progress, and the press has calmed down, we’ll discuss your coming back to LA.”

Bridget walked around the giant desk and took hold of my arms, lifting me out of the chair. For being a petite woman, she sure was strong. She gave me a pat on the shoulder, her short frame barely able to reach, and said, “Better get moving, Liam. You’ve got a flight to catch.”

Liam

My older brother, Wyatt, picked me up from the airport later that day, the hum of my beloved blue 1970 Ford F-150, which I had spent years and thousands of dollars restoring, dulling the pounding of my swirling thoughts. My brother offered little in the way of conversation as we drove the two hours back to Meridel, but that was nothing new. I was somewhat surprised he had even agreed to drive to the airport to get me in the first place.

After all, I was the youngest of seven kids. I was used to being ignored and brushed off. Wyatt and I got along slightly better than my other brothers and sisters, but not by much. Once, when I was six or seven, my parents were off at some event and all of my older siblings—who were supposed to take care of me while they were gone—decided to leave the house, leaving me completely alone. I ended up having a dinner of chocolate milk and some crackers that night because everyone had forgotten me.

One by one, my brothers and sisters slowly came back through the evening, but Wyatt was the only one who noticed me sitting in the corner with cracker crumbs surrounding me, and helped me clean up and get ready for bed. I’d always been easily forgotten; invisible when it came to my family. My parents hadn’t even bothered to say good night when they got home. I wasn’t sure they even knew I’d been left behind.

I shook my head, forcing my mind off sad memories and back to the present as field after field of cows and corn passed by. A small smile worked its way onto my face.

I thought that after the chaos of California, being back in Iowa would feel weird and foreign. The moment I stepped off the plane, I expected it to no longer feel like home. But instead, I welcomed the sudden quiet, the ability to finally catch my breath, and the hot summer wind on my face through the rolled-down windows.

I had forgotten the difference between humid heat and dry heat, and the lack of air conditioning in my truck was a stark reminder that I did not enjoy the humid type.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as we drove down the long driveway to the place I’d grown up on the outskirts of Meridel—the Walker Farm.

My brother parked my truck in its usual spot beneath two large maple trees a short distance away from the farmhouse. From here I could see the barn with a handful of cows grazing the field beside it, and chickens scurrying around, pecking at the dirt all over the place.

Home. It was strange to be back here, but it also felt like I’d never left. Meridel was that kind of town. You could spend forever away from its borders, and yet the moment you returned, it was like a big, warm hug, saying welcome home.

Just as I was about to get out of the truck, I noticed my parent’s red pickup was missing.

“No Mom and Dad?” I asked, my eyes taking in all the familiar things on the farm.

Wyatt shook his head. “They left on some cruise a few days ago. You’ll be the only one here.”

Since I was the youngest, most of my siblings were married with families of their own, and, as far as I knew, didn’t come back home much. Part of me was thankful that I wouldn’t have to see any of them now. The older I got, the harder it was to pretend I was okay with the way everyone treated me growing up. It was better to be staying here alone. At least until Bridget arranged for something more permanent like she had promised before I got on the plane.

Wyatt drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, pulling me out of my thoughts, before he fixed me with an uncharacteristic look. It almost appeared as if he was concerned, which was strange coming from anyone in my family, even him.

“I should probably warn you.”

Uh-oh. That can’t be good.

“Warn me about what?”

He gave a vague nod in the direction of the corn field and gazebo and pointed. “There’s a wedding happening over there.” He hesitated, glancing at me and biting the inside of his cheek. “Probably best to keep your distance until they leave.”

That was it? A wedding? Hardly something to warn me about. I gave a nod of acknowledgment but said nothing as I climbed out of the truck, the smothering humid air smacking me in the face. In only two years I had forgotten how much worse summer was in Iowa, even in early June.

The Walker Farm was the largest farm in Meridel, and unfortunately, with its cedar gazebo, pond, and animals, it had a quaint, and apparently romantic, feeling to it that prompted people to want their weddings and events here. My parents had put a permanent stop to it a few years back after a rowdy wedding party almost set fire to the chicken coop.

What would have made them make an exception this time?

“I thought Mom and Dad stopped letting people use the farm for events?” I asked as Wyatt headed toward the house to unlock it, stopping him in his tracks.

“They did it as a family favor.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, wracking my brain and trying to figure out who he could’ve been talking about, but I came up empty. “A family favor to who?”

Wyatt cocked his head, looking at me with a pinched expression that said he thought I was an idiot. It was a look my siblings often gave me.

“It’s the Lewis-Beck wedding.” He dropped the words like a bomb, his eyes studying my face as if I were the one about to detonate.

I blinked at him. “Beck?” A sudden, unfamiliar surge of panic twisted my stomach into knots. “Which Beck?”

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