Page 30 of July's Bad Boy: Blaze

"You're worried about Ruby."

It's not a question. "I'm worried about all of you. The spotlight isn't always kind."

He nods, understanding written across his face. "No, it's not. But sometimes the truth is better than secrets."

"Says the man who came to town to hide."

"Touché." He picks up his beer again. "For what it's worth, I think Ruby can handle herself. She's been doing it a long time."

I rest my head against his shoulder. "I know, but I just want things to stay good for a while."

His arm comes around me, solid and warm. "They will."

Blaze and I spent the rest of the day together. After everything a lazy afternoon is just what we need.

Evening transforms the town park into a wonderland of string lights and laughter. Folding tables groan under the weight of potluck dishes. Someone's brought out a portable fire pit where children roast marshmallows under watchful eyes.

Orville is sitting in a comfy looking chair that looks like it was brought out just for him. He’s near the fire, and telling stories to anyone who will listen. Ruby hovers nearby but giveshim space to enjoy his celebrity status. I carry a plate of Lily's famous apple pie to their table.

"You outdid yourself," I tell her, setting down the dessert.

"Nonsense," she replies, her cheeks pink with pleasure. "Though I did try a new cinnamon this time."

Orville reaches for a slice immediately. "Woman, you could sell this pie in New York City for twenty dollars a slice."

"And who would travel all that way for pie?" she scoffs, but she's beaming.

From the gazebo, guitar chords drift through the evening air. Blaze sits on the steps, acoustic guitar in hand, playing softly. He's not performing, not really. He’s just adding to the atmosphere. But people drift closer, drawn to the music.

He catches my eye across the square and smiles, then launches into a gentle rendition of "Country Roads." Voices join in, hesitant at first, then stronger. I watch as teenagers stop checking their phones to sing along, and Orville taps his foot in time.

I used to think this town needed saving. Maybe what it needed was a reminder of its own strength. We still have a battle ahead of us, but I think we’re stronger now than ever.

When the song ends, applause ripples through the crowd. Blaze plays a few more tunes. Nothing flashy, just good music for a good night before setting his guitar aside. He makes his way through the crowd toward me, stopping to chat, to accept thanks, to belong.

"That was beautiful," I say when he finally reaches me.

He shrugs, almost shy. "Just giving back a little."

"A little? Blake, look around. This is what you helped create."

He follows my gaze, taking in the scene. Families together, neighbors laughing, a community whole. "Not me. This was always here."

"Maybe," I say. "But sometimes we need someone to show us what we already have."

He sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. "You sure you want a washed-up rock star hanging around?"

"You're not washed up. And you're not hanging around." I turn to face him fully. "You're home."

His smile then is worth every moment of uncertainty, every argument, every doubt.

Tomorrow will bring new questions, new challenges. But tonight, under the vast Montana sky, we are exactly where we're meant to be.

Home.

EPILOGUE

GARNER

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