Chapter 29
Watching Charley and Dylan together made Naomi miss Chance even more. The anger that had sustained her through the first few days without him had waned by the time her alarm had blared on Wednesday morning, signaling a return to work. Work that required dealing with the person she longed to forget. With the anger gone, she’d progressed to the bargaining phase, during which time Naomi had made several offers to whatever higher power might be listening that if only the hole in her heart could be magically healed, she would gladly donate all of her free time to any charity in the city.
And yet, the wound remained.
A week later, she’d rolled full tilt into depression. Not the clinical type, but the kind that resulted in crying at greeting-card commercials and turning down dinner invitations because she didn’t want to ruin a meal for everyone else at the table. But tonight, two weeks since her world had crashed and burned, Naomi didn’t have the option of hiding at home. Dylan was making his first appearance at the Grand Ole Opry, and the entire Shooting Stars staff would be in the front row cheering him on. Since he was their first artist to grace the historic stage, this was a milestone night for everyone.
Though Naomi had, in the past, taken the backstage tour available to tourists, she’d never been behind the scenes during a performance. The majority of any given Opry lineup, which changed from show to show, was made up of older stars. Those who’d seen their heyday decades before, but who were still highly respected and did a wonderful job of keeping the classics alive for thousands of country fans every year. This meant Naomi had encountered enough legends in the last hour to leave her more than a little awestruck. Even for those in the business, these pillars of the genre were a big deal.
Minutes before showtime, Clay, Naomi, Dylan’s parents, Charley, and Charley’s grandfather, Maynard Layton, were all escorted through one of the heavy red curtains that hung on either side of the stage to join the rest of the label staff in the audience. Taking her place in the pew, Naomi tucked in her long skirt tight around her legs and settled in for the show. The night would play out in three acts, with Dylan appearing as the final performer of act one. Twenty-five minutes in, Dylan was introduced.
The moment he walked out on stage, Charley clasped Naomi’s hand. “That’s my honey,” she said, hardly able to keep her seat. “He looks so good up there.”
Naomi laughed for the first time in fourteen days. “Yes, he does.”
Wearing his trademark black hat, Dylan sang the biggest hit off his debut album, a tune titled “Better Than Before.” The song had risen in popularity with the help of a fan-captured video recorded during a live performance at a local Nashville venue. Dylan had performed the song directly to Charley and, at the end, they’d shared a passionate kiss. The video went viral in a day and garnered the Shooting Stars’ launching artist the kind of attention that could not be bought. As far as Naomi was concerned, punctuating a performance with a public display of affection would always be a plus in her book.
Many in the crowd sang along with every word, which was always a good sign. One loyal fan even had a sign that read, COUNTRY MUSIC IS BETTER THAN BEFORE THANKS TO DYLAN MONROE. When the song ended and Dylan thanked the young girl waving the flimsy poster board over her head, Charley applauded along with the crowd, even when her husband leaned forward and read the small print.
“‘Please marry me,’” he shared over the microphone, and the audience burst out laughing. “I’d love to, darling, but I don’t think my wife would be too happy.”
“I would not!” Charley yelled, gaining more laughter from those around them.
Each performer was given enough time for two songs, and Naomi assumed Dylan would be performing his other hit from the album, “Down Here Down Home.”
“I thank you all very much for coming out tonight. This is my first time being here, and you’ve all made it really special, so thanks again.” More applause rained down, and Dylan glanced to the side of the stage. After a quick nod, he turned back to the microphone. “I was told that I get to do two songs tonight, and that’s what we had planned, but a new friend of mine asked for a favor. When I heard what he wanted to do, I couldn’t turn him down. Ladies and gentlemen, help me give a warm Opry welcome to my buddy, Chance Colburn.”
The crowd went wild as Chance walked out on stage, looking like every good girl’s wicked dream.
“What’s he doing?” Naomi asked, turning to Clay. Her boss kept his attention on the stage, applauding along with the rest of the spectators. “I don’t understand,” she said to Charley, who took her hand once more.
Misty brown eyes twinkled in the stage lights. “Just watch, Naomi. You’ll see.”
Heart pounding in her chest, she fought back tears as Chance shook Dylan’s hand and then reached for the microphone. What he said next left no doubt as to why he was there.
“Thank y’all very much,” Chance said. “And thanks to Dylan, for letting me do this. I know this is a big opportunity for him, but I also know he’ll be coming back here for years to come. Don’t y’all think so?”
Applause filled the large hall, and Dylan took a seat on the stool next to Chance, Gibson Dove guitar strapped to his chest. With a wave, he acknowledged the enthusiasm and support of the crowd.
Chance used the pause to catch his breath. He knew exactly where Naomi was sitting. He’d been watching her from the side of the stage since she’d arrived in the front pew, looking as gorgeous as ever with her hair swept up off her neck. He might never get to hold her again, but after tonight, she would know how he felt about her. And how sorry he was for how things had ended.
“I’m much better at singing than talking, but there’s something important I need to say tonight, so I hope you all will bear with me.”
“I love you, Chance!” screamed a fan from the balcony.
“I love you, too, darling, but you’ve got to let me get through this.” He rubbed the sweat from his palms as the crowd laughed. “Two weeks ago now,” he began, “I broke a pretty girl’s heart. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and y’all know that’s saying something.”
The mood remained light, until he made his next statement.
“You see, I’m an alcoholic.” This declaration was met with silence. “I’ve said that twice a week at special meetings for the last several months, so you’d think it would get easier to admit. It doesn’t.” Taking a breath, he forged on. “The thing about being an alcoholic, especially one with a record like mine, is that even when you haven’t done anything wrong, people think the worst. They just expect you to do whatever it is you aren’t supposed to. I’ve been tolerating assumptions like that all my life, so I know how much it tears at a person. To be doubted all the time. And yet, I did that exact thing to someone who didn’t deserve it like I do.
“Because I know she’s here tonight, I wanted to use this opportunity to tell her that I’m sorry.” His voice caught and he turned from the mic to clear his throat. No number of years onstage could have prepared him for this moment. Chance had never felt so vulnerable in his life, but he wouldn’t back out now. “She’s the only person I couldn’t push away. No matter what I did, she stuck it out. She held her ground and put me back in my place, and I needed that. I still need it, and I know this little speech of mine isn’t enough to make up for what I did. Still. She deserves an apology, so that’s what this is. A musical apology.”
He looked to Dylan, who strummed his guitar as if to say, Ready when you are. With his heart in his throat, he wrapped his good hand around the mic. “This song is for Naomi. It’s called ‘Say It Anyway.’ I hope you like it.”
Chance had never witnessed four thousand people be utterly still, but that was the case in this sacred room as Dylan began to play. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Naomi, so he closed his eyes and sang.
A man can only go on for so long
Chasing down the devil
Trying to be a rebel
Pouring out his heart in a country song.
He can claim to be a loner
A deep thinker and a stoner
Burn in hell before admitting when he’s wrong.
But a woman, she knows the real man
What he’s hiding
When he’s lying
And loves him as hard as she can
Despite the fighting
And the crying
Through it all she’s still his biggest fan
Until the day she says I won’t do this again.
Putting Naomi’s parting words in the song had been a reminder. Of the pain he’d caused, and the reality he faced. He’d lost her for good, but she deserved an honest-to-God apology, and this was the only way he knew to give her one. While Dylan drew a mournful sound from the seasoned guitar, Chance raised the microphone.
It’s too late once she’s walking out the door
And regret becomes a four-letter word
“Baby, please” doesn’t cut it
You missed your chance
She doesn’t want it
You know damn well that you’ve both been right here before
Won the battle, boy, but now you’ve lost the war
Well, I can tell you, son, ’cause I’ve been where you are
Sayin’ you’re sorry doesn’t get you very far
Don’t be like me
Give her what she needs
And say it anyway
Dylan strummed out the final chords and Chance stepped to the edge of the stage. He had to see her one more time. But when he caught sight of the first pew, Naomi was gone.
How dare he do this to her?
His entire life, the man kept every damn thought and feeling to himself, and now he chooses to bare his soul to the world? To admit his mistakes in front of four thousand people, and who knows how many more watching at home? How was she supposed to deal with that?
Naomi rushed through the Opry House courtyard, navigating between the strolling tourists excited to be in the presence of the historic building, many snapping pictures in front of the giant guitars decorating the landscape. A mere hour before, she’d played the same role, forcing her best smile as Charley had taken a picture of the Shooting Stars crew posing proudly before an enormous Gibson.
Too furious to cry, she glanced both ways before crossing the busy lane.
Because the Opry was located next to the large and always busy Opry Mills Mall, the two venues shared a parking lot, and Naomi had found a spot several aisles over. Groups of young teens and families pushing strollers wound their way toward the movie theater entrance. By the time she reached her car, Naomi had heard at least three unrecognizable languages. A sign that tourist season was upon them.
Minutes later, she maneuvered her way onto Briley Parkway with a white-knuckle grip on the wheel and Chance’s words replaying in her mind.
I know this little speech of mine isn’t enough to make up for what I did.
Damn straight it wasn’t. So he’d admitted his mistake. Even recognized that he’d done the same thing to her that others had done to him his whole life. The irony alone was laughable. If Naomi had been capable of laughter. Which she wasn’t.
Because Chance had let her love him—again—and then ripped her heart right out of her chest. Why would she ever, in a million years, set herself up for that one more time? The level of stupidity that would take was mind-blowing. Even Naomi, for all her faults, couldn’t possibly be that much of an idiot.
Not that being a forgiving person was a fault. She liked seeing the good in people, and Chance would not take that away from her. Just because she’d been wrong about him. Wrong about so many things. Most of all, about thinking she could ever live without him.
“Dammit,” she said, glancing over her shoulder before shifting two lanes to the left. “He was right when he said he doesn’t deserve me. Absolutely right.”
The Luke Bryan song on the radio faded as the DJ came on. “Good news for Chance Colburn fans, and especially those with a ticket to the Opry tonight. According to sources on Twitter, he made a surprise appearance with Dylan Monroe a little while ago and debuted a new song. Not sure when we’ll get our hands on it, but as soon as we do, you’ll be the first to know. Now let’s keep the music rolling with some Miranda Lambert.”
Naomi switched off the radio as her heart fell to her knees. That song had been for her, not everyone else. Though she’d bolted from her seat halfway through the first verse, she hadn’t been able to leave before hearing the rest of the song. Hovering at the back of the room, she’d listened to every heartfelt word. The regret and acceptance. The humility and remorse.
But no plea for forgiveness. Chance had known better than to ask for such a thing. He’d apologized for no reason other than she deserved to hear him say the words. Because telling her he was sorry mattered more than his own pride or ego.
The realization brought tears as she passed the exit for the hospital where she’d taken him the night of the accident. The night he’d opened himself up and let her in. The night that had changed everything.
Yes, he’d doubted her. But he’d loved others before and they’d let him down. Trusted and been betrayed in the most violent of ways. Why wouldn’t he expect the same from Naomi?
They hadn’t talked about trust since the night she’d moved into his house. Chance had been honest about his issues. Refused to offer empty promises. The troubled man with the fragile heart had, in not so many words, asked for patience and understanding. And he’d been patient with her in return.
Naomi had found forgiveness for her mother once she’d learned the intentions behind the frustrating behavior. Making a right onto the narrow gravel lane she’d first traveled in a long black limousine, she decided to extend the same consideration to Chance.