Page 8 of Small Town Boy

“Good to know,” I respond, gaining my composure again. “I’ll file that away.”

He nods, not pushing it any further. Silence surrounds us again, this time for much longer than before. I guess the get to know you portion of this ride is over. And oh look, still more than two hours left.

Just great.

Leaning back and closing my eyes, I try to focus on the rhythm of the ride, the soft rattle of the truck and those tires. Maybe I can catch a nap. Normally I would think it was rude to do, but with all the weirdness of the last forty minutes and this conversation, I think we could both use a moment with our own thoughts.

I wake a while later, blinking hard as I try to figure out how long I was out. The scenery around me is the same—a long stretch of road ahead of us, trees on either side of the highway. What is different, though, is the atmosphere of the truck. Gone is the awkwardness, and in its place is something lighter. Something happy.

The radio is turned up, Noel singing along to a song I’ve never heard, massive smile on his face. His joy is palpable, borderline contagious. And something about it tells me that it’s something he doesn’t let many people see. A trusted few that know the real him. Still, I want to bottle it so that the next time I’m grumpy or gloomy, I can take a hit of it and feel it weave around my heart the same way I do now.

“Favorite song?” I ask, amused by how animated and into the tune he is.

“It’s about me.”

The grin he gives me is borderline goofy, paired with a know-it-all glint to his eye.

“You connect with it that much?”

“No,” he laughs. “It’s literally about me. Nash too. The three of us.”

“Three?”

“Dustin.”

“Who’s Dustin?” I ask. I don’t think Willa or Gus mentioned a Dustin. Although, there have been so many names they’ve rattled off to me, I don’t put it past myself to have missed one.

“Dustin Wild. Although, to us, he’s Dustin Wilder. We ignore the stage name.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Dustin Wild, the country star?”

“I don’t listen to country music.”

“Still figured you’d know the name.”

“Nope.”

“That’ll be fun to tease him about,” Noel mutters. I start to question why, but he continues before I can get a word out. “Dustin Wild, or as I said, Wilder, is the third musketeer to Nash and me. Been our best friend since we were small. Pretty much all my childhood memories include him in some way.”

“And he’s a big deal?”

“Not as much as he thinks if you haven’t heard of him.”

“I don’t listen to country, so⁠—”

“Let me have this one, hon…Bronwyn. It’s good to have ammunition when he needs knocking down a peg.” Noel gives me a wink, a giggle bubbling up inside me. “Anyway, this is him. It’s one of his older songs. To the average person, it’s just a fun song about a bunch of kids, wishing they were older and up to no good. ’Cept I know that it’s about the first camping trip we were allowed to take without our parents, and how the girls snuck out to meet us. It’s one of the few songs he didn’t write about Kenzie. And it’s still about her in a way…”

Kenzie… Kenzie… I rack my brain, the name sounding familiar. She is for sure one that Willa has mentioned. I just can’t put my finger on it. Noel shoots me another look, and must see that I’m struggling to place the name.

“Kenzie Noble. Dustin’s fiancée, but also, and potentially more importantly, the town librarian. She took on the job after Mrs. Cassum passed, putting her own plan of teaching on hold to save the library.”

I let the smile tugging at my lip grow, spreading across my cheeks, my heart squeezing at his answer. The fact that he thinks Kenzie’s role as town librarian is more important than who she is in regard to some musician says something. Shows how much he values her. Which, in turn, says a lot about him as a person. At least to me it does.

My phone buzzes in my lap, startling me. I look down, unsurprised to see Willa’s name on the screen.

Willa