Page 78 of Grumpy Bear

Jim cut me off. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No ma’am. You are not gonna sit here and spit a bunch of that tired-ass, workaholic bullshit at me this morning. Not about this. Not about him. It was one thing when you were doing your whole lonely martyr routine—living in your monk shack, pissing in the woods—like it’s some kind of penance or whatever. But you’re not getting away with it today. Not today, Satan.”

I blew out a long miserable breath and scratched the back of my neck. “You think I should go down there?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think he’s gonna want me there.” I sounded pathetic to my own ears. “Not after… our last conversation.”

“Honey, you better tell me right now you sent him off with your blessing.”

“I did.” I winced. “I told him to kill it.”

“That’s it?” Jim looked horrified. “I hope you made it clear to him that whether he kills it or bombs, he’s welcome back here.”

“I don’t think this is the life he wants.”

“Have you asked him?”

“We… talked.”

“And what do you want?”

“What I don’t want is to try to talk him into staying here if he’s just going to resent me for it down the road.”

“I did not ask you what you don’t want. Are you even listening to me? I’m going to say it again slowly for you this time. What. Do. You. Want?”

Him. Here. With me. I didn’t have to say it out loud. It was well established that Jim could read my mind. “I don’t think it’s right for him to have Wayne’s guitar though.”

Jim slapped the table in frustration.

I held up a hand to stop his next tirade before it started. “Let me finish. If I’m going to get him a guitar, I think it should be one of his own.”

Jim’s eyes softened, and he grinned from ear to ear. “Well, lucky for you, Edgewood has one of the best music stores in the state of Georgia, and it’s on your way.”

I sat there nodding, thinking through the possibilities, trying to picture showing up and surprising Luke. Would it change anything for us though? Was this a little too little, a little too late? But no—what mattered was giving him a shot at whatever he chose. Even if it wasn’t me. For the time being, I pushed all that away and tried to focus on logistics and the parts I could control. “Can you get me Brad What’s-his-name’s number?”

“I’ll do you one better.” Jim stood up and started stacking our dishes, motioning for me to get out of my chair. “You get on the road, and I’ll call Brad. See if I can get that producer’s number and the address of where they’re gonna be. I’ll call you in the truck when I know something.”

I plucked at my shirt, smelling under my arms. “I haven’t showered yet.”

“Boy, you ain’t got no time for showering. If he can’t take your stanky ass like you are, he don’t want you anyway.”

I smiled and turned to leave, but he called me back.

“And Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“You know this isn’t just about delivering a guitar, right?” When I didn’t respond, he narrowed his eyes. “You need to talk to him. Again.”

I nodded impatiently. “I know. I know.”

“And tell him what you want.”

I locked eyes with my best friend in the whole world, my brother, allowing him to see and feel the sincerity of my promise. “I will.”

36

Luke