Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

H arry Young didn’t exactly love the snow. But he did love sitting with Keri, Clay, and Avery cuddled around him while the flakes fell. He loved making hot chocolate for himself and the kids, and he loved watching movies while keeping the dark night and cold wind at bay.

In short, he loved being home in Coral Canyon, and since he didn’t have to be in Nashville until after Valentine’s Day, he’d chosen to stay in Wyoming after the holidays. It sure felt nice to have someone else looking after him. Someone making coffee in the morning, and someone filling the fridge with food.

After four months of touring, Harry was tired , and he didn’t even want to think about having to do another album and another tour. He honestly wasn’t sure how his father had done this ten times now .

With his bone-weary exhaustion plaguing him, it was no wonder he scrolled through his social media feed while a cartoon movie of a princess played in front of him and the kids.

“Holy cow,” he murmured, but Keri nor Clay cared. He paused on a particular post and picture. “Sarah Endman got married.”

His high school girlfriend. The only girl he’d ever confided more in than his father, than anyone. What? he asked himself as he stared at her beautiful face. Did you think she was waiting around for you?

Of course she wasn’t. She’d gone to college when he’d left for Nashville. The caption on her wedding photo read, Reid and I have been together for four years, and I’m so happy we’re finally man and wife!

Four years.

Harry shoved his phone under his leg and folded his arms, a keen sense of loneliness filling him. Sarah had been his only girlfriend in high school. He’d only dated one other person since her, and well, Harry didn’t want to go into what a terrible relationship he’d had with the lead singer of a band who’d toured with him during his first album.

He let his eyes drift closed, and before he knew it, he fell asleep during the kids’ movie. “Harry,” Keri whispered at some point. “It’s over.”

“Okay,” he said, opening his eyes to look at the little girl. It took a moment for her to come into focus, and she looked at him with Ev’s blue eyes and Dad’s dark hair. “Time for bed, little lady. ”

He looked over to find Clay sound asleep, his face mashed into the couch cushion. Harry had put Avery in her swing, and the baby was zonked out too. He got up and stretched, yawning as he did. He loved staying up late, and as he scooped Clay into his arms and followed Keri down the hall, a second round of energy entered his body.

He laid Clay in his bed and bent down to kiss his forehead. He covered him up and left the room to help Keri with her teeth and nightgown. Once the seven-year-old had been tucked in, with properly brushed teeth, and promises of Harry being the one to drive her to school in the morning, he left her bedroom too.

Avery didn’t have her own bedroom upstairs, and she still slept in a bassinet in Harry’s parents’ room. He collected the baby and took her in there, wrapping her up tight so she wouldn’t wake up. He’d just left that bedroom when Daddy and Ev returned home, and he met them in the kitchen.

“How’d it go?” Ev asked.

“Just fine,” Harry said, indicating the mess he’d left behind in the kitchen. “I think you can see everything we did right there.”

Ev took in the electric kettle, the mugs, the bowl of popcorn which only held un-popped kernels and the excess fake yellow butter powder Harry loved. “Mm, yes, I see.”

“I’ll clean it up,” Harry said. He had a bedroom in the basement, but he’d been staying out at Bryce’s a lot in the past couple of weeks since his cousin had gotten engaged. “I’m staying here tonight, because I promised Keri I’d drive her to school.” He smiled at Ev and moved around the island and into the kitchen.

She went down the hall to assumedly check on the kids and get ready for bed, but Daddy plopped himself on a barstool and looked at Harry. That wasn’t good.

“Uncle Morris said he’s still negotiating a tour.”

“Yeah, yep, right,” Harry said. He’d told Morris, who acted as his manager, he didn’t want to do a tour. He wanted to write the songs, record the songs, and have Rebel put out the album. The end.

“He also said you’ve asked him—well, he said you told him you didn’t want another contract.”

Harry turned his back on his dad as he put the half-full mugs in the sink and flipped on the faucet. “That’s right,” he said.

“What’s your plan, then?”

A sigh moved through Harry’s whole body, but his muscles felt like they’d been bound and tied. “Do I need a plan, Dad? I have like, millions of dollars in the bank. What if my plan is to sleep in the basement forever?”

“I’d say that’s a terrible plan,” his father said.

Harry dumped out the undrunk hot chocolate and pulled open the dishwasher. He loaded the mugs and spoons, then turned to get the bowl of popcorn. He met his father’s eye, the storm inside him blowing out instantly.

“I want to write songs,” Harry said. “I can do it from anywhere. You and Uncle Otis song-write. He makes good money writing songs for people who just sing them. ”

Daddy nodded, his dark eyes not quite all the way into Serial Killer Mode yet.

“I’m a really good songwriter,” Harry said. “I can make more than the average person with one social media video than some people make in a month. With songs. With a guitar. I thought I wanted a life and a career in country music, but I don’t.”

Harry turned and took the bowl to the trashcan, where he dumped out the unpopped kernels. He set the bowl in the sink and let it start filling with water. He swept the trash from the hot chocolate packets and the popcorn bag off the counter and into the garbage, and still his father sat there, silent.

“Just ask it,” Harry said.

“Are you going to move back here?”

Harry scrubbed the popcorn bowl, trying to find the right answer. Or at least an answer that wasn’t, “I don’t know.”

But he didn’t know.

He just wanted God to shine a light on the path he was supposed to be on. He hadn’t been to church in a while, and he needed to go. He missed having a heavenly influence in his life, plain and simple.

He straightened his shoulders when he realized how slumped and folded in on himself he was. He finished rinsing the bowl and set it in the dish drainer to dry. As he faced his father, he grabbed a towel from the stove to dry his hands.

“You know what? I don’t know, but I’m just going to be bold and try to act like an adult and say, yeah. I want to move back here.”

Dad’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Harry, you can do whatever you want.”

“Daddy, you know that’s not true.”

“Otis writes from here.”

“Otis isn’t under a contract.” Harry turned back to the sink and picked up the washcloth. He flipped the sink back on for the third time and started rinsing it out. “And he’s proven himself. And he’s awesome.”

He started wiping the counter and found a carton of cream he’d left out from the hot chocolate construction. He picked it up and put it back in the fridge, and when he faced his father to wipe down the island, he paused. “I want to have music in my life, Daddy. But I don’t want to be a country music star in the way I have been. I don’t like touring. I like writing, and plucking through my strings, and singing, but…I just don’t think the traditional path is for me.”

“No one’s saying it needs to be.”

“Why don’t you just say what you want me to do?”

“I want you to be happy.”

Harry started wiping the counter. “You know what makes me happy? Babysitting the kids so you and Ev can go out.” He’d really, truly been happy tonight.

“I’m hearing someone wants a wife and a family.”

“Yeah.” Harry didn’t mean for the sigh to slip from his throat, but it did. “I can admit I’m lonely. It’s insane, but even when I’m surrounded by tens of thousands of people, I’m all alone.” His chest hitched, and Harry clamped his teeth together to keep himself from saying another word. If he did, his voice would crack, and then Daddy wouldn’t sleep. He’d be too worried about Harry, and that was the last thing he needed.

“Is Morris going to try to get Rebel to let you work on the album from here?”

“Yes,” Harry clipped out. With the counter clean, he returned to the sink once more. He washed out the cloth and laid it out to dry before turning back to his dad. “I won’t live here, and I won’t live with Bryce. No matter what, Dad, I want to come back here. There’s something about this place, and you’re here and everyone is here.”

He couldn’t catch the emotion before it bled into his voice, and with his eyes locked on his daddy’s, he decided he didn’t have to hide anything. He wasn’t “the” Harry Young here. He was just his father’s son, and he could be himself.

“I miss everyone. I seriously don’t know how Bryce lived away from here for so long. I miss so much, and I feel like a stranger to everyone where I live, a stranger to everyone who likes my music, and a stranger when I come home.” He shook his head. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Daddy whispered.

“I’ll get my own place,” Harry said. “I can afford it, and it’ll be here for me whenever I can be here too. One day.” He rounded the island and sat next to his dad. “For good. Permanently. That’s the goal.”

Dad nodded, his chin down toward the countertop. “It’s a good goal, Harry. ”

“Do you think I can find someone—you know—who’s just…normal?”

Dad looked at him. “You mean a girl?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Harry smiled at him, though the gesture felt a little tired on his face. “I mean a girl.”

“All of us managed to find normal women,” Dad said. “And we’re big rockstars.”

“True,” Harry mused, but he thought it was a little different. He didn’t want to call his dad old—or any of his uncles—but none of them had dated in their twenties. Daddy had been forty when he’d met Ev and started dating her. It wasn’t the same as the younger culture, the younger crowd.

Maybe you’ll find someone older than you , he thought, and Harry didn’t hate that idea. Uncle Gabe and Aunt Hilde were quite far apart in age, and maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a problem.

Especially here in Coral Canyon, where Harry wanted to be.

“Will you help me look for a place?” he asked.

“Of course I will,” Dad said. “You want something big or small?”

“I’m thinking small,” Harry said. “Nondescript. Normal. Average. I just want average, Daddy.”

Dad chuckled. “All right. I’m sure we can find something in one of the older neighborhoods, where you’ll have a little old lady bringing you banana bread every Sunday.”

Harry grinned and leaned into his father’s side-hug. “ Sounds perfect,” he said, and he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

The big city life wasn’t for him. The hustle and bustle of fame didn’t suit him. He did have quite a bit of money, and he’d get two more disbursements from the tour, and then two more during the making of the third album.

He had money. He had savings. He had a retirement fund already. He could find a way to do what he loved and keep making money.

Now, what he needed was someone to spend it on. Someone besides himself he could focus on.

He needed to surround himself with the goodness of nature, and of his family, and of God.

And he really, really wanted to find someone to share his life with the way Bryce had, the way his daddy had, the way seemingly everyone around him had.

Harry Young rolled over in bed, someone pounding on the door and refusing to go away. It took him a moment to remember he wasn’t in his apartment in Nashville, but at home in Coral Canyon. Due to his staying-up-late-at-night habits, he wasn’t surprised to find the clock on his nightstand blaring out a time of ten-twenty-four.

He was surprised that his daddy wasn’t home to get the door, and as he got to his feet, he grabbed his phone and saw a text that said they’d taken the kids to Uncle Tex’s for a holiday breakfast, and he should come out to the farmhouse whenever he woke up.

“Sheriff’s Department,” a woman yelled as Harry turned the corner and entered the hallway leading to the front door. “Is anyone home?”

“Yeah, I’m home,” Harry said as he reached the door and unlocked it. He pulled it open only to receive a nasty shock of bright sunlight glinting off the snow and streaming straight into his eyes.

A blast of cold air punched him in the chest, reminding him he wasn’t exactly wearing a shirt.

As he shielded his eyes and tried to contain the chatter in his teeth, the woman standing there said, “I’m Belle Graves of the Teton County Sheriff’s Department. Can I ask you a few questions?”

Harry’s eyes adjusted to the blinding light. Or maybe it all came from Belle and how angelic she was, standing there on the porch in black pants and a black shirt. An angel of darkness, maybe, but an angel nonetheless. She wore her dark brown hair long and down, and Harry wanted to run his fingers through it.

She’d done her makeup and while he’d never considered a Sheriff’s Department vest to be a particularly sexy piece of clothing, on her, it sure was. Her dark eyes devoured him, sliding down to his bare feet and back to his face.

A flash of a smile stole across her face, and Harry had to make that happen again. Next time, for longer and aimed at him for something funny and clever he’d said to her .

“Do you live here?” she asked before he could ask her for her number.

“No,” he said. “I mean, sort of.”

The beautiful Belle tilted her head at him. “You sort of live here?”

“It’s my parents’ place,” he said. “I’m just staying here for a while.” He leaned into the doorjamb and rested his shoulder against it. “Do you want to come in? It’s freezing out here.”

Her eyes dropped to his bare chest. “Probably best if I do come in,” she said as she squeezed up onto the step with him. “And you probably wouldn’t be so cold if you had clothes on.”

With that, she slipped by him and into the house, and all Harry could do was turn his head and watch her walk down the hall away from him, his heartbeat positively thrashing at him to go with her! Answer her questions and then ask her one of your own.

So he closed the door and followed the lovely Belle into the house, all thoughts of joining his family for a late breakfast completely and utterly gone.