Page 56 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

All eyes swivel to him.

It doesn’t matter what Mort wants. It doesn’t even matter what he wants. It matters what his best friend needs. Jace is in trouble. Luke’s gotta help him.

“I can take care of Sal,” Luke says. “And I can take on a gig.”

“You’ll play?” Seth’s gawking.

Mort’s smirking.

“I’ll play,” Luke agrees.

Seth lets out a hoot, clapping Luke on the back. Jace gives Luke a grateful nod.

“My boy, my boy.” Excitement tinges Mort’s voice. “You got the perfect comeback song, too.”

Luke meets Mort’s knowing stare. “What’s that?”

“‘Sal’s Song.’”

Luke freezes at the words. That song—it’s like shrapnel to his heart. His gut twists as the lyrics he wrote for his wife, right before she died, lash the caverns of his mind like a whip.

Seth’s cringing.

Jace whistles. “That’s a humdinger of an ask, Mort.”

“It ain’t finished,” Luke says through his teeth.

“Finish it, then. It’s a damn good song.”

Luke clenches a fist.

Of course it’s good. It’s about Sal. Though his wife’s inspired countless songs, this one’s the most honest song he’s ever written for her. Every single line, every lyric was about what she meant to him, what she did to him. She kept the pressure on, always. Made him do better, sing honest. Sal always told him his song had to come from the heart if he wanted it to be honest. Without Sal, he had no heart.

But playing it for anyone else, putting it out there like some damn commodity to be sold, feels wrong. Like Luke’s cashing in on Sal’s homecoming. Putting her on display. The song’s personal. He needs to finish it for her, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before he gives his wife up to the world.

That song is hers.

“No,” Luke says sharply. Mort’s face darkens, but he continues. “I’ll finish the song. It can be a deep cut we play in small bars, but that ain’t our single.”

This time, he doesn’t even have to ask.

Both Jace and Seth nod their assent.

Mort sucks his teeth, considering Luke’s refusal, then drops it, apparently deciding not to irritate his frontman any further. “Looks like we got ourselves a deal.” He jabs his cigar at Luke, bits of ash scattering to his desk. “You’ll be on a stage in a month.”

A month.

His gut twists.

He damn sure better be ready.

Seth and Jace follow Luke out into the hallway.

“Lunch?” Jace asks.

Luke shakes his head. Impatient, he punches the elevator button. “I want to get back to Sal.”

Seth laughs. “She ain’t gonna be home for another couple of hours. Not with Lacey at the helm.” He claps Luke on the back. “Stop worryin’.”

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