“You sure?”
“No.” She shakes her head and turns her teary gaze to Griff. At the sight of him moving toward her, already coming for her, his arms outstretched, she bursts into tears.
He has her. He always has.
It’s Saturday night and the buzz of neon lights Mill’s Tavern. The microphone glitters in the overhead stage lights, and the waitresses sling beers with reckless abandon.
Griff, his guitar strapped around his back, holds open the back door for Alabama. It’s their last night in Clover. Tomorrow, bright and early, a bus will pick them up and take them to Austin.
“How’s it lookin’ in there?” Alabama asks Holly, who’s waiting in the wings.
“It’s a full house,” Holly says as Griff and Alabama follow her down the hall. “All of Clover came out to see y’all rattle the stage.” She leads them to a door and opens it with celebratory fanfare. “Ta-da! I made a green room.”
Griff smothers a chuckle. The cramped storage room’s been made up into a small buffet of food and drinks laid out on packing crates. “Lukewarm beer,” he says dryly, peering into a cooler. “Nice touch, Holly.”
“The day I treat you like a star is the day I gnaw off my arm,” Holly retorts. She claps her hands together. “I’ll rally the crowd. You’re on in five.”
Griff rolls his eyes as Holly makes a quick exit. “Well, she’s definitely got the lingo down.”
Alabama stares at Griff. “Are we crazy for doin’ this?”
“You ain’t crazy,” he says, giving Alabama a long look. “I, however, may need to rethink my decision.” He’s seeing people he hasn’t seen in a decade. People that know how he’s fucked up, that he never came back for his mama’s funeral, relatives he’s avoided because, well, he’s been too ashamed to face his family. To admit he’s done everything in his life wrong.
Everything up till now, he thinks, his eyes on Alabama.
“Too late.” She scoffs and socks his arm. “You go where I go.”
“You’re damn right I do.” He reaches out and cups the side of her face. When she meets his gaze, his breath catches in his throat. He still can’t believe how fucking lucky he is.
All the secrets he’s been hiding about the past, they’re out now. Alabama heard them and held them. She forgives him. It still has Griff marveling. Has him loving her even more than he ever has. Her unadulterated belief in him, her unswerving ability to back him up, to see him as a good man—it confounds him and leaves him thankful, all at the same time. He’s never known a stronger, more remarkable woman than her. And he thanks his lucky, goddamn stars above every damn day that she’s his.
Alabama leans into his touch and then ducks her head close to his. Her voice a whisper. “I’m nervous—why am I nervous?”
Griff smiles. Alabama’s never nervous playing for a packed crowd, but Clover’s different. It’s her hometown. She hasn’t been on that stage since she and Griff were teenagers picking instruments. That stage is where they got their start, dreamed their dreams. So it’s a fitting end to their time in Clover. Alabama just wants to get it right. And Griff wants to be beside her every step of the way.
“You’re nervous because we’re gonna play our song,” Griff says, pulling her into his arms.
The corners of her lips quirk. “You mean our unfinished song.”
“Relax.” He kisses her brow. “I’ll be up there with you.”
“I know you will.” She links her hand with his. “I got my penny in my pocket.”
His fingers tighten around hers. “Same here, sweetheart.”
Holly pops her head into the room. “Lovebirds, y’all ready?”
They exit the storage room and cross the floor to the small stage, where they begin setting up. Alabama chuckles as Griff opens his guitar case, laying it out on the lip of the stage to receive tips.
He gives her a wink. “Just like old times.” He plugs the guitar into the amp and helps Alabama adjust her mic. Then Griff nods to Holly to show they’re ready.
When he looks out into the crowd, he sees them. His Aunt Bonnie. His Uncle Clay. His cousins. They let out a hoot, waving at him with wild abandon. The tension Griff’s been holding on to eases. There’s no trace of anger or embarrassment in their faces. He raises a hand and gives them a wave back.
Alabama’s grinning, clearly delighted on his behalf.
Holly hops onstage to make introductions. “Y’all know ’em. Y’all love ’em. We’re so happy to welcome back to the stage, twelve years later, I may add, Alabama Forester and that loveable asshole Griff Greyson!”
Griff shakes his head, but he smiles, finding Alabama’s eyes on him.