Page 132 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

It’s midnight by the time they get to the after-party down on Broadway. Tootsie’s is bright and buzzing with friends, family, musicians. They swarm the Brothers Kincaid offering hearty congratulations, and making plans to get together, to tour. The performance tonight knocked it out of the park. Luke knows that. Two encores and a standing ovation. You can’t get much better than that. If he never played again, he’d be happy. But they will. No doubt about that. The look on Jace’s and Seth’s faces onstage told him this ain’t over.

They’re just getting started.

Smiling, relaxed, feeling bright and buzzy, Luke raises a beer to his lips and scours the crowd. Seth, in the front booth, knocks back a shot of tequila before handing one to Sal. She shoots it back like a pro, while Emmy Lou pulls Jace onto the dance floor.

As he makes a move for his friends and family, a flash of red hair catches his eyes.

After a glance, making sure Sal’s safe with Seth, Luke turns and walks deeper into the bar.

He finds Alabama Forester on the back patio, taking shelter under the awning from the drizzling rain.

“Nice night,” Luke says.

Her body goes stiff.

“Luke. Hi.” She pulls her drink to her chest, looking like she wants the earth to open and swallow her alive.

“This’ll only be a minute,” he says, lifting his hands. “I know you were in on the photo Jasper took. You played along so Mort would represent you.”

Her eyes land on the ground. “Luke—”

“But I also know that you tried to help Sal. Last year, you were the one who told her the truth about everything. You told her who sent that photo. She knew it was Mort.”

Lifting her eyes, Alabama makes a sour face. “I did a shitty thing. I was so desperate for a number one song that I thought I could get ahead by knockin’ someone else out of the race.” She shudders out a bitter laugh. “It didn’t help me a lick. All I got for it was a lot of sleepless nights.”

“You tried to make it right.”

“Too late, though, right?” Alabama’s gray eyes hold his, the sadness of the past, of what he and Sal have been through passing over them. Then they flick to Sal, who’s on the dance floor with Seth. “How’s she doin’? With her memory?”

He hesitates, says, “She still doesn’t remember the photo.” He exhales. “But that’s my own damn fault, because I haven’t told her yet.”

Alabama burns as red as her hair. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the one who fucked up your life.”

“You did.” Luke nods slow. He won’t forget it, but he can forgive. “For a long time you did. But we ain’t there no more.”

She throws him a grateful glance. “It won’t change anything but ... I’m sorry for the kiss. I’m sorry to you, and—”

Alabama’s eyes move across the room. Luke follows her gaze. Sal’s standing at the bar speaking to Jace, her face lively, a smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry to her.”

A chorus of laughter erupts.

“She’s somethin’ special,” Alabama continues, ducking her head. “She was willing to hear me out on that phone call. She didn’t even know me and she was still ready to give me the benefit of the doubt.” Her lips turn down. “That’s more than most people have done. You’re lucky to have her.”

“I am. I’m a lucky man,” Luke says softly, his eyes still on Sal.

When he looks back at her, Alabama’s disappeared into the crowd.

Seth and Jace have claimed the front booth by the window, giving them a grand view of Broadway. As Sal goes to join them, she bypasses Luke in the jam-packed crowd. He’s surrounded by friends, so she squeezes his hand to let him know she’s okay before slipping away. She should stop, make conversation, but she wants Luke to be in his element. He deserves it. There’s a dreamy happiness in his eyes. A pride that he did it.

He sang and he survived and he’ll do it again.

Sal sinks into the purple booth, right beside Seth, in time to hear him say to Jace, “You’re shittin’ me. Man, there is no way in hell you outdrink me.” He flips a bottle cap into Jace’s empty beer glass. Another into Jace’s lap. “I put you under the table.” He slams a tan hand on the table and crows, “Every. Damn. Time.”

Jace grins. “Hey, all I’m sayin’ is I seem to remember pickin’ your ass out of a gutter on more than a few occasions.”

Seth scoffs.

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