My Lucky Days: A Novel (33 page)

Eight Years Later

L
ucky was a star now. He was an actual country music celebrity. He had sold millions of albums and packed hundreds of arenas. Sometimes his success still didn’t seem real. Sometimes the time I had spent with him didn’t seem real either. Sometimes it felt like something I had dreamed or imagined.

And then sometimes it felt like yesterday.

I still couldn’t shake his sudden appearance last night after all these years. And his face still haunted my thoughts this morning as the nurse rolled me out the front door of the hospital in a wheelchair.

I put a hand over my eyes, blocking out the painful rays that were amplified by my head injury. I waited as Hannah pulled up in her blue Honda Civic. My bruised ribs hurt more today than yesterday and I winced as I got into the seat. No more roofs and no more gutters ever again.

“Want me to take you anywhere or straight home?”

“Home,” I grunted. The idea of being anywhere but in my bed sounded appalling. I just wanted to be surrounded by the familiar and to make the pounding inside my head disappear—and I wasn’t talking about the concussion. Seeing Lucky made everything spin around and hurt.

I had literally been knocked unconscious and visited by the ghost of Christmas past.

“So are you really not going to tell me? After all this time, you never mentioned once that you knew Landon Evans.”

I glanced over at Hannah, seeing her inquisitive smile. We had met about four years ago when she moved into town because her husband took a job at the college. We both taught at the elementary school together and her daughter Linley was even in my class. But it was our mutual love of pottery that had cemented us as friends.

I was obsessed with it now. I loved the way the clay felt between my fingers. So dirty, yet cleansing, like an earthy bar of soap.

But it was a good constructive outlet. I liked how it felt, creating things with my hands. And I had beautiful things to place around my house. I made vases and bowls and flowerpots. And then Hannah and I would paint them together while drinking Shiraz. We had shared many stories over the last few years, which explained her confusion about Lucky.

Glancing over in her direction, I sucked in a deep breath, feeling it crush against every damn rib. “There’s not much to say.”

“Yeah, right. You act like it’s normal to have a famous country singer show up in your hospital room.” She stopped at the light, tapping her finger on the steering wheel. Her dark hair framed her face in a sharp bob. “Just answer this. When did you meet him?”

I knew Hannah wouldn’t let this go. But I wasn’t sure how much I really wanted to say. It wasn’t always easy to visit the past. “College. I knew him at the end of college.”

“Was he a singer then?”

“Not like he is now.” I shook my head, feeling the marbles shake inside—imaginary marbles, knocked loose by a very real cement driveway. “He was just getting started. We met one night when he performed at Dusty’s Saloon
.
”

“Was he as cute back then as he is now?” She laughed. “I’m sure the answer to that is yes.”

It was an innocent question and I knew she meant no harm. Hannah was a sweet person. But I no longer wanted to be in this conversation. Closing my eyes, I put my hand over my face to block the sun. The stupid fall off my roof had cracked open a hole into the past that I wasn’t ready to discuss.

“I’m sorry, Katie. I won’t ask anything else. Every woman is entitled to her secrets.”

“I’m not hiding anything. Just maybe not today. Because this might take some wine and no concussion.”

She laughed. “Sounds good.”

The drive to my house was relatively short from the hospital. We reached the driveway in only a few turns.

“Uh, Katie? Someone’s here.”

My stomach flipped as I opened my eyes, expecting the worst. But instead I saw the large truck in the driveway with the logo E
VANS’S
H
OMES
on the side in green. Quickly scanning the yard, I spotted a ladder on the north side and a man cleaning out the gutter.

I gasped in pain while getting out of the front seat, which only made my chest hurt more with the quick intake of breath. As I slowly crossed the yard, the man climbed down and gave a little wave.

I smiled, letting out a painful breath. “What are you doing, Colt?”

“What I would have done yesterday if you had just called me. Instead, you cracked your head and made my brother flip out, which by the way, thank you. He’s being a real pissant right now after seeing you at the hospital.”

“Yet, I’m sure your mama still finds it adorable.” I smiled, shaking my head. The town was small and we’d crossed paths many times over the last few years. But it had probably been a good eight or ten months since the last time.

He came over to me and leaned in for a loose hug. “I don’t want to hurt you. That was a nasty fall you took.”

“You’re fine.” I pressed against him, despite the pain.

It felt good to see Colt. I’d missed him and his family. They had never taken the break-up very well. We stayed in touch for a while. I even had dinner with them a few times. They never meant any harm, but their conversations always made it back to Lucky. He was their glue. The shining star of their family.

Spending time with them just got too hard. And I had to gradually let them go too.

Stepping back a few feet, I glanced up toward the roof. “After yesterday’s visit, I’m surprised Lucky didn’t try to do this himself.”

“I think he would have. But he had to fly out this morning.”

“I see.” The flutters of sadness filled my chest. And then I hated the way it made me feel. It was ridiculous.

“One of the big awards shows is tomorrow night. He was already set to perform or he would have stayed.” His eyebrows pinched up. “He’s pretty determined. You should probably know that.”

“What do you mean?” I shuffled around, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. I tossed a glance over at Hannah.

“He wants to fix this with you, Katie.”

I swallowed, feeling the pain in my forehead amplify. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“He’s under the impression it was his fault. And he wants to fix it.”

“That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just happen and . . . there’s not a reason.” I grasped for words as I looked back up into his concerned eyes. We had been so young. In some ways, we had still been kids. “It’s been years. There’s not any bad blood between us. Never was. So tell him there’s nothing to fix.”

“Things have changed recently in his life. Maybe you should sit down and actually talk to him.”

I shook my head, feeling slightly dizzy again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not going to lie and say I understand. But it’s your business.”

We stood there for a moment and I looked back over at my friend, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. “Hey, so this is Hannah. She teaches with me. And Hannah. This is Colt Evans.”

He smiled in her direction. “Nice to meet you. Glad Katie has someone to help her out today.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you too.” She smiled at the not-so-famous brother.

I was tired of holding everything together while standing in my yard for the world to see—specifically Colt. “Well, I’m getting tired. I probably should head inside. Thank you for cleaning out the gutters. That was nice of you.”

“Anytime, Katie. I mean it.” He glanced back toward the house. “I’ll finish up and then leave. But um . . . if you want. Mia has a ballet recital coming up. I’m sure she would love for you to come.”

“Okay.” I let out a deep breath, wanting to say no, but I really would like to see the kids. “Maybe Callie can text me the information.”

“I’ll tell her. Take care. Hope you feel better.”

I walked slowly toward the house with Hannah beside me. “You don’t have to stay.”

“You sure?” She frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone.”

“It’s fine. My roommate will be back in town later. Besides, I just want to get some sleep. I won’t be that entertaining.”

“Okay.” She gave me a quick hug. “But call if you need anything. I’m just ten minutes away.”

“Thank you.”

Once inside the house, I got a glass of water and took a pain pill for my bruised ribs. My head continued to pound in a synchronized pattern, but I knew nothing would make it better. Only time. And that was for the concussion
and
the memories.

My phone buzzed and I looked at it a second, seeing Ryan’s name on the screen. I’m sure he’d heard about the accident. I silenced the ringer, letting it go to voicemail, which was not a good idea. I let out a deep breath before typing a quick text to keep him from showing up at my house. I’m surprised I didn’t get a visit from my other ex at the hospital too.

M
E:
I’m fine. Don’t worry.

R
YAN:
You were in the hospital, and I had to hear about it from my mother.

M
E:
I’m sorry.

R
YAN:
Let me come take care of you.

M
E:
I can take care of myself.

R
YAN:
You always say that.

M
E:
Let it go, Ryan.

R
YAN:
Fine. I will for now. Hope you feel better.

M
E:
Thanks. I’m just going to sleep for a while.

We weren’t together. Not really. Not anymore. But we had remained friends. At least, I had remained friends. Ryan still had hope, I think, and refused to let go. Maybe in my own way, I wasn’t letting go either. But I had at least stopped the benefits part of our friendship a few months ago. That had been a terrible idea after the break-up.

Walking over to the window, I looked at the same yard and the same road that had been my comforting view since I’d moved in at the beginning of my sophomore year of college. The houses on the other side of the street were a mix of long-term, older residents like me and the annual rotation of college students.

I didn’t mind living in the mix. Anyone who decided to make a life in this small college town couldn’t really avoid the tie to the school. And honestly, I liked seeing the new batch of students each year, so young and full of hope as they came and went—so carefree.

Colt headed toward his truck, placing the ladder in the bed. He looked back in my direction and gave a friendly wave. I lifted my hand, giving one back. Climbing in the Ford F-350, he drove away.

I stood there awhile, thinking about what Colt said earlier about Lucky. He thought we should talk. I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt about the idea. Over the last few years, it’s not like I had banished him away into the oblivion of my mind. I thought about the guy. I actually kept tabs on him too. More than I would admit if questioned. But it didn’t take much. He was famous. And on television and practically every time I turned on the radio.

I went over to the record player sitting on the side table in the living room. I owned all of his albums—all of them on vinyl, just the way he would have wanted me to hear his music. Looking through the stack of records, I found the one called “Dark Horse.”

The cover had stormy clouds with Lucky on a motorcycle wearing a pair of aviators. His hair was short and slicked back with gel. This was the album that had made him famous. Every song carved out an image that was so different than the guy I once knew.

Placing the record in the player, I turned up the volume before walking over to the couch. I winced as I lay down on the cushions. Closing my eyes, I waited for the deep sound of his voice to fill the room. I didn’t cry anymore when I listened to this song. But the first time I heard those words, my heart crumbled into dust. I’d worried and lost sleep over the possible truth to his lyrics.

Sometimes I need to clear my head,

And get back on the road.

Coffee and cocaine.

It gets me out of bed,

And on to the next show.

After a long night of drinkin’,

Tryin’ to block her memory.

’Cause I can’t dull the achin’ pain,

Without a bottle of dark whiskey.

Back on the road again,

I live to ride another day.

The towns pass by the window,

But my heart still feels the same.

I strap on my guitar,

And I play another show.

I smile at the screaming crowd,

But I know how this will go.

I toss back a cold one,

Pretendin’ I’m okay.

But I’m dyin’ on the inside,

And tonight only ends one way.

I’ll drink until her face blurs,

And the memories fade away.

I’ll drink until I can’t feel,

Knowin’ tomorrow there’ll be hell to pay.

Come mornin’ I’ll be hungover,

Out on the road all alone.

The cycle will start again,

’Cause there’s no reason to go back home.

Sometimes I need to clear my head,

And get back on the road.

Coffee and cocaine.

It gets me out of bed,

And on to the next show.

We pull into another town,

Ain’t nothin’ left to lose.

The days are darker than the nights,

And I can’t face the truth.

So I keep on drinkin’ whiskey,

And pretendin’ to have a good time.

Singin’ under the stage lights,

While her face forever haunts mine.

The song finished and the player moved to the next painful tune—a dark, edgy cover of
You Are My Sunshine
that contained not even a trace of light. I hated how beautiful he sounded. How beautiful and broken—beautifully broken.