Sing You Home by Ava Hunter

Seth scans the crowd of people. There are more friends and family than he knows what to do with. At least Sal and Luke had the right idea to sneak away for a breather. He spotted the two of them climbing down the fenced path to the river hours earlier.

“Have you seen my sister?”

Seth glances over. It’s Lacey, holding a beer and wearing a frown.

“Relax.” Seth clinks the lip of his beer to hers. She grimaces and wipes away his cheers with the hem of her dress. “She’s fine. Luke took her fishin’.”

Instead of an angry scowl, Lacey nods thoughtfully. “She was getting overwhelmed. All these people. It was too much.” Her pretty face is crestfallen. With her slumped shoulders, she looks like a melting cupcake in her big puff of a party dress.

“Nah. You put together a good party, Lace.” He peeks at her from the corner of his eye, hoping to see a smile. While he likes to piss her off, he doesn’t like seeing her sad. That depresses even him. “Fancier than our usual. But still good.”

Lacey shifts her weight, eyeing him with suspicion.

He laughs. A deep, rumbling sound that has Lacey’s stance relaxing. “What?”

“You’re being nice.”

“Yeah, well. Liquor does that. Besides, I’d say Sal’s birthday party is a damn fine time to be nice.”

Her face softens. “Definitely.”

“Nice save there too.” Seth takes a swig of beer. “With Alabama.”

Anger flashes in Lacey’s eyes. “Ugh. That dumb bitch. What was she even doing here anyway?”

“Beats me.”

Seth thanks Christ that Luke failed to notice him ushering out Alabama. She said nothing as she left, gave no explanation for her entrance, just apologized and got in her car.

Lacey sniffs. “There’s too many people here.”

That gets Seth’s attention.

He scans the crowd. Lacey has a good point. The majority of guests are family, but the rest are from the industry. Mort’s clients and powerful music business people. Probably invited to schmooze Luke.

It figures. Luke’s always been the important one—both Seth and Jace knew it. Luke powered the band, wrote most of the lyrics, so it makes sense Mort would want to show him off, to tell the world the Brothers Kincaid are back. Even if it wasn’t his own goddamn party to show off at.

Although Seth doubts Luke’s even noticed the hangers-on. All afternoon he’s only had eyes for Sal.

“They’ll clear out of here soon,” he tells Lacey.

A loud, clipped laugh has them both turning heads. Mort, dressed full-on in a suit, is talking to Jace and Emmy Lou. Seth hears him utter the words practice and album and recording deal. He scowls.

Fucking Mort. He can’t leave business alone for one goddamn day.

When Seth turns to look at Lacey, he finds her wearing the same scowl. “I don’t like that guy,” she says, her voice reeking with distaste.

Seth smirks. “Does anyone?”

“Why’s he here anyway? I thought it was family only.”

“He is family,” Seth murmurs automatically.

A gasp comes from Lacey. Then she’s digging nails into his bicep. So hard that Seth bites out a curse. When he turns to ask her what the hell, she’s staring at him with big, wide eyes.

“Seth,” she says.

He freezes, the beer bottle inches from his lips as realization dawns.

He looks at Lacey, eyes wide, and says, “Holy shit.”

Sal slows to a stop when she and Luke stride up to the house. The world’s aglow in light and flame. “My God. Luke.”

A huge bonfire blazes in the field.

The large party crowd’s been pared to an intimate few. Only Emmy Lou, Jace, Seth, Lacey, Mort, Luke’s parents, and few others remain behind. Buckets of beer, rocking chairs and s’mores kits are set out. The dewy night air is filled with the scent of cedar wood and cypress.

Sal squeezes Luke’s hand. “Is this the ceremonial altar?”

Luke laughs. “Oh, you didn’t know? We’re big on human sacrifice.”

She smiles. “Sorry to say, country boy, I’m no sacrificial virgin.”

His expression, his eyes, turn hungry and wanting at the teasing tone in her voice.

But before Luke can say anything, make a grab for her, Sal breaks their closeness and makes a slow lope to her friends and family. Restored after the river, her time spent with Luke, Sal can’t wait to finish out her birthday night right.

“Sal, you look a mess,” Lacey chides, running up to her. But she’s smiling. She takes Sal’s hand and tugs her forward, pulling her past Seth, who’s heading toward Luke to hand him his guitar.

Their voices follow Sal as she’s seated in a rocking chair.

“You wanna play, man?”

“Ain’t gonna break tradition now.”

As Lacey drapes a blanket around her shoulders, hissing primly, “Your nips are showing,” Sal eyes the Brothers Kincaid.

Luke, Seth, and Jace huddle together, their instruments lit up in the flicker of the firelight.

She glances up at Emmy Lou and smiles. “You didn’t tell me I get a private performance.”

Lowering herself beside Sal, Emmy Lou hands her a glass of champagne. “Birthday girl, you’re gonna love it. You ain’t been to a party till our boys play.”

“Should we dust off ‘Wildman’?” Luke asks Seth.

Seth swigs his beer. Tosses the empty bottle into the grass and, in answer, readies his bow.

Jace picks at a borrowed banjo.

Luke, beating on the side of his old six-string, hollers out, “Hey, hey, hey!”

Everyone hushes, packing in around the fire, leaning in close to hear the Brothers Kincaid play.

Then and there, the dewy night comes alive with music.

The grass is their stage and they’re in their element. Luke’s long fingers fly across the strings, his melodic voice picking up speed as he switches over to a rollicking cover of an old Doc Watson song.

The Brothers Kincaid—they’re more than just music. The music is them.

But Sal only has eyes for Luke. He’s so confident on his instrument. His hair tousled, his face passionate and earnest, his love for the music shines crystal clear as he sings out. So does his love for Sal. Because he doesn’t take his eyes off her as he plays. He holds Sal’s face in his steady gaze, love and desire ringing out in his voice.

As Sal glances around her circle of people, tears fill her eyes. It all feels so celestial. All of it. The full moon hanging above. The glow of the bonfire. The pulse of love, of music in the air. Everything about this day feels absolutely perfect.

That calms something in Sal. A breaking open of love a river wide.

She has no answers for anything in her present. But she does have touchstones. Her family. Friends. Solid rocks she can lean on. She might not remember everything, but she has Luke. She has this. A second chance at love. Marriage. Life.

Just then the air is peppered with claps and hoots and whistles. Sal rouses from her thoughts.

Luke puts his hands up to signal silence. Sal’s heart flips in her chest as he pins his eyes to hers. The insides of her stomach are tidal.

Luke’s strong voice fills the night air. He glances at Sal, giving her a heartfelt look. “I wanna say happy birthday to the most beautiful woman in the world. You are a gift to me, to your friends and family, and I thank you for lettin’ me be in your life.” His throat bobs. Tears glitter in his eyes, reflected by the firelight. He raises his beer and others follow suit. “I love you, Sal. I always will.”

Around her, hushed sniffles. The clearing of throats.

“Thank you,” Sal whispers, but words aren’t enough to convey the emotion she’s feeling. Her heart’s so big, Sal feels as if she will burst.

Love.

It’s love.

Sal catches Luke’s handsome profile out of the corner of her eye and smiles soft.

She loves him.

Tonight. She’ll tell him tonight.

Two hours later, the last of the guests have gone and the bonfire’s stopped raging. Sal, lounging in a rocking chair, watches as Luke says goodbye to Jace and Emmy Lou. The air is scented with fire. Moonlight skitters across the slowly swaying sweetgrass.

Sal runs a nail up along the side of her temple. All evening, she’s tried to ignore the hammering in her temple.

Not a migraine. Not now. Not when the night’s been so perfect.

At the sound of Luke’s boot steps, Sal quickly pulls her hand away from her temple before he can see and worry.

“The thing to do now,” she says, “is sleep here.”

He chuckles. “Outside?”

“Yep.” She smiles. “You can be my pillow.”

“You want a drink? Wine?”

“Whiskey.” The words are out of her mouth like habit.

Luke smiles. “That’s my girl,” he says before coming up with a bottle of Maker’s Mark. He pours them each a finger and settles into a chair across from Sal. He shoots his whiskey back, drops his cup to the grass, pulls his guitar into his hands. Almost unconsciously, he strums a tune.

Sal props her chin in her palm. “You sound ready for the stage.”

Looking hangdog, Luke shakes his head. “I ain’t so sure about that.”

His face clouds. Their performance is in two weeks. He’s got to be nervous. Hell, Sal’s nervous for him. But she knows they’ll knock it out of the park. Luke, on the other hand, isn’t such an easy believer.

Luke inclines his head. “What’d you think? About tonight?”

“I loved it. It was a perfect day. It really was.” Sal smiles slightly. “And I decided something.”

“What’s that?”

“I decided I need to stop obsessing over this memory thing. It’ll come to me when it comes. And if it doesn’t . . . I have you.”

“You do. Always.”

Overcome with emotion, he dips his head. Still picking his guitar, he clears his throat thickly. Sal frowns at the tone in his voice. His earlier jovial mood’s shifted. Quiet. Intense. Serious.

“Listen. Darlin’, there’s somethin’ we oughta talk about. Somethin’ you gotta know—”

Before he can go any further, Sal cuts him off with a gasp.

“That song . . .” She presses a hand to her heart.

Luke stops. He tilts forward in his chair, alarmed.

“No, please. Keep going.”

He does. And Luke’s eyes widen as Sal sings along with him.

You’re the only road I walk

No matter how crooked, how long

Till the ends of the earth I will go

A million miles I’ll roam

Because whatever you do, wherever you go

You’re the only one who sings me home.

Her heart wrenches to the point of pain. That song. It’s the one she’s been hearing in her mind. Her touchstone all those long, horrible months with Roy. Only it was more than a song.

It was Luke.

His fingers are still on the strings, awe and disbelief etched across his face. “You remember.”

“What is it?” Sal asks, leaning forward as if entranced.

“It’s your song,” Luke explains. “I wrote it for you right before the plane went down. I never could finish it . . . not when you . . .” Grief chokes his words.

Sal’s eyes brim with tears. To her it’s a sign. She’s where she needs to be. And Luke. All the roads have always led to him. He is hers.

Standing, she goes to Luke. He sets the guitar aside and takes her on his lap. She frames his face with her hands, stares into his eyes. “It was always with me,” she says. “I didn’t know what it was or where it was from, but I would sing it. It would get me through the days with Roy. I don’t know why. Maybe because it felt like hope or freedom.” A tear slips down her cheek. “But now I know. All along it was you. You got me through when I wanted to give up. You sang me safe, Luke. You sang me home.”

Luke, cradling Sal in his arms, closes his eyes in anguish. Tries to find his voice. “Sal . . .”

“No. I get to say something first.” She leans in and brushes her lips against his. “I love you, Luke Kincaid. You’re my road. Always and forever.”

A stricken sound escapes Luke. At first Sal thinks it’s a sigh, then she realizes it’s a sob.

Tears fill his eyes, track down his cheeks. Sal brushes them away with the pads of her thumbs, lets them fill her palms.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lets out a shaky shudder like her words have quenched his soul.

That’s when Luke laughs. The smile that lights up his face could power the entire state of Tennessee. He cups Sal’s face in his palms and kisses her deep into her next life.

That kiss shows Sal her future. With Luke. With a million possibilities stretched out before them.

He pulls back to look at her, love burning in the depths of his dark eyes.

“I think I could die a happy man right now just hearin’ those words.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have to.”

“You’re right. There’re other things we gotta do first.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” He stands, lifting Sal in his arms. His dark eyes glow. “I’m takin’ you to bed.”