Page 6

CHAPTER 6

anna

I walked out of the rest area bathrooms and stopped on the sidewalk, letting the late September sun warm me. It was a beautiful day to watch some football, even if it was the University of Knoxville. We were almost there. Just forty-five minutes from the stadium. And if I hadn’t drunk so much caffeine, we would’ve been ten minutes closer. But here we were.

“Get your granddaddy long legs back on your side,” Tally’s voice carried from where Ashton had the car window rolled down. I had to give it to Stella. She’d done spectacularly. Not a hint of giving up and dying on the side of the road.

I turned back toward the bathroom looking for Brooklyn who’d been washing her hands. Suddenly, everything went dark. A large pair of rough hands covered my eyes. I screamed and sent my right elbow backward into somebody’s stomach as I also sent my foot up into their groin. Silas always warned me that rest stops were a breeding ground for sex traffickers. But the nerve of whoever this was, trying to abduct me right in front of my uncle…

“Uh, Anna,” a male groaned. His hands fell away and I whirled around, my heart in my throat.

I squealed, “Uncle Ford?”

“Geez,” he grunted, still doubled over. “What the world? I was trying to surprise you.”

I tackled him, hooting with laughter. “What’re you doing here? How’d you know where we were?”

“The app,” he croaked, trying to straighten. He slowly stretched back to a full stand. “I think you might’ve killed my chances at being a father.”

“Oh my gosh.” I chortled. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I patted him on his handsomely stubbled cheek. Then I pulled him into a better hug, squeezing with all my might. “How are you?”

“Geez girl. You’d think you hadn’t seen me in a while.” He swayed with me in his arms, and I wasn’t sure if the swaying was because he was happy to see me or because he was drunk. He smelled like beer and cigarettes.

I stepped back, beaming. “I just missed you is all.” He’d been home in July.

He gripped my shoulder. “Yeah. I’ve missed you too.”

“Well, well,” Ashton said. We turned to see him standing by Stella, arms crossed. His expression was split between happiness and wariness. “If it isn’t the enabler of bad choices.”

I cocked my head at Ash. “Don’t,” I said. “We get to see Ford. Be happy.”

But it seemed that Ashton had decided to go wary. “He’s going to blow it for you, Anna.”

“Wow.” Ford whistled. “Good to see you too, brother.”

Ashton rolled his eyes but walked up and hugged Ford. Ford pounded him on the back and it made my heart all warm and fuzzy. My uncles? They were the best part of my life. If a girl had to lose her mom at the age of thirteen, she should at least have four kick-butt uncles. And I did.

The difference between them was striking. Ashton was Holden, Granny, and Momma all rolled into one. Blond hair and fair complected. But he was tall like Silas and Gramps. Ford, on the other hand, took after Gramps and Silas—dark hair and dark complected. But he was only about six feet tall. Short for the guys in our family. He and Ashton had the same exact eyes though. And I was hoping like their eye color that they’d find some commonality today so we could enjoy ourselves.

“Are you ready for some football?” Ford said in an excited announcer voice.

A few feet behind us Brooklyn gasped. We turned to look. Her eyes were wide, fangirling at Ford. Good grief. “Hi.” She gave him a little wave.

“Hi, Brooklyn,” he said in an amused tone.

Then she jogged past us like she couldn’t get into the car fast enough.

I giggled. “It’s like you’re famous or something.”

Ford let out a cocky laugh. “Or something.”

Ashton rolled his eyes again. “M-kay. You still fart and blame the dog, just like the rest of us.” I snorted at his Sophie-ism.

“You just keep telling yourself that.” Ford smirked. Then he checked his fancy watch. “We better git.” He tipped his head toward his beast of a shiny red truck. The thing was so tall it looked like he’d need a ladder to climb in and out. “Anna, why don’t you ride with me?”

I glanced back at my girls who were waving for me to come on. “But Stella.”

“You ride with Anna.” Ashton held out his hand. “I’ll drive your truck. I can’t ride by Tally for another second anyway.”

“Yeah. Okay.” While Ford pulled the key out of his pocket, I motioned to Brooklyn and Tally that Ford was riding with us.

Brooklyn opened her door and hopped out. “You can ride shotgun, Ford,” she said sweetly. I swear her eyelashes were batting.

“Are you kidding me?” Ashton snapped. “I just rode four and a half hours jammed into the back seat of that sardine can and the second you find out he’s riding with you, you pop up like a daisy without being asked.”

Brooklyn shrugged, unapologetic. “He’s Ford Dupree of Whiskey and Women. Who are you?”

“Ouch,” Ford said.

“Shut it,” Ashton muttered as he walked away.

Ford watched him go, hands on his hips. “Tell the truth. He enjoyed every second in that back seat with Tally. Didn’t he?”

“Shhh. She doesn’t know he likes her.”

His lips pursed. “I’m not sure he knows.”

“Oh, he knows. Trust me.” I was pretty sure there wasn’t one cell in his body that didn’t know.

Just then a stranger hopped out of a car and took a picture of Ford. “Are you?—”

“Nope.” I grabbed him by the elbow. “Let’s get out of here before you have to sign autographs.”

“But—” He turned for the woman.

I yanked him toward Stella. “No time. I do not want to be all over TikTok with you.”

As soon as we pulled out of the lot and back onto the freeway, Ford had his hands all over Brooklyn’s phone. “We need to practice ‘Rocky Top.’ I think Dolly Parton’s singing it today.”

My forehead crunched. “What are you talking about?”

“You know. Every college has its opening song. Virginia Tech does ‘Enter Sandman.’ Well, Knoxville does ‘Rocky Top.’” He punched play on the song. “Top of the lungs, ladies.”

So for the next forty-five minutes, we belted,

Rocky Top Tennessee, home sweet home, to me. Good Ole Rocky Top. Rocky Top Tenneeeseeeeee. Rocky top Tennesseee.” By the time we pulled into the parking lot at Smoky Mountain Stadium, we had that sucker down by heart.

The tailgating was well underway and we drove around for at least fifteen minutes before we found two spots together.

As I shifted into park, Ford held up a finger. “Wait here.”

Then he hopped out, leaving his door open, and walked to his truck where Ashton had parked in the next space. He pulled a duffel out of the back seat and walked back over, setting it in my passenger seat. Then he unzipped it and started handing out Knoxville jerseys.

My jaw dropped. “You bought us all shirts?”

“’Course. You can’t go up in here in your ordinary clothes. You gotta do it right.”

“What?” Brooklyn squealed. Then she put her palms together in a prayer pose and squinted up at the beautiful blue sky. “Thank you, God, for blessing Anna with an uncle who’s rich, fun, and really, really nice to look at.”

“You forgot about his voice,” Tally hissed.

“Oh yeah. And thank you for giving Ford Dupree a voice that makes women faint. Amen.” Tally seconded the amen. Oh my gosh. Ashton had caught the whole thing, standing right behind Ford. Poor Uncle Ash.

“Anna,” Ashton said sternly. “If you really don’t want Blue to see you, you can’t go in here with Ford. Because if one person spots him—and I cannot imagine a scenario where that’s not a possibility—you’re done for.”

I cocked my head. “We’re not gonna make Uncle Ford sit alone. Besides, the tickets are assigned seats.”

“Two words. Disney World.” Ashton held up his hands abdicating himself from any of my wrath if his prediction was correct. “That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

Okay. So last year we’d all gone to Disney over the summer, and when people realized Ford was there, it had been a nonstop headache of trying to outrun the paparazzi and crazy female fans who wanted him to sign their boobs and butts. But I couldn’t blow him off. He’d bought the tickets and gotten us all hotel rooms.

Ford handed Ashton a jersey. “Got you a large, because you’re so tall.”

Uncle Ashton grinned, promptly forgetting about the whole thing. All you had to do to make his day was acknowledge his height. No one in the entire world was prouder of being six foot four than him.

We girls slipped back in the car to make the switch. I pulled mine over my head and then got back out. “Uh, why is mine so freaking tight?”

Ford shrugged. “I told the lady to give me three smalls.”

Brooklyn and Tally’s shirts fit perfectly. A jersey shouldn’t be tight. Ever. What a joke.

Tally reached for my tag and I lifted my hair so she could see. Then she giggled. “Yours is a small, all right. A youth small.”

I groaned. “Seriously?”

Ford didn’t seem the least bit upset. As a matter of fact, he looked a little pleased.

“You got curves, girl.” Brooklyn squeezed my shoulders. “Rock it.”

Once we were all properly attired, Ford jammed a dark cap on his head, slid a pair of sunglasses on, and we were off. He took my hand, pulling me through the crowd. I had Brooklyn’s, who had Tally’s, who adorably had Ashton’s. Yeah, he was smiling.

Once we were under roof, rock music played over the speakers as kids raced in and out, trying to keep up with their parents. It took twenty minutes to weave through the masses of people lining up for food, beer, or paraphernalia, but I had to give it to Knoxville: the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

“Look.” Tally pointed up.

There was a massive banner of Blue hanging from the ceiling, arms folded across his chest, a look of smug confidence on his face. His banner was flanked in a V by individual banners of teammates. I had to force myself to breathe, he was so handsome. The enormous picture made it impossible not to stop and stare. But it was simply a metaphor for Blue. Larger than life, overshadowing everyone else.

Ford tugged my hand, leading me away. Once we were out of the tunnel and into the fading sunlight, he pulled me forward to our seats, lower and lower toward the field.

“Uh, how close are we sitting?” I asked. I knew for a fact that the closer you sat to the field, the more expensive the tickets were. There was no way I was paying this back. Not until I graduated from vet school and got a real job.

“You said you wanted to see Blue, and you can’t see him from the nosebleeds.”

“Need,” I corrected. “I need to see Blue. And I brought a pair of mini binoculars.”

Ford stopped, an elderly woman taking her time in front of him. Over his shoulder, he said, “I don’t think that counts. Besides, I’m not sitting where I can’t see.” The way he said it was arrogant. Like he, the Great Ford Dupree, wouldn’t be caught dead buying budget tickets.

“Fine.” The closer we got to the field, the higher my nerves cranked. It was a massive stadium. The likelihood of Blue seeing me was almost nonexistent. But I’d told myself it wasn’t even a possibility with rows and rows of people in front of me. But now, with each row we passed, the more probable it felt. Like I was playing some twisted game of strip poker. Handing away my clothes one piece at a time. When there were only ten rows between us and the field, my worst fears became a reality. Because we weren’t near on the end zone or in a corner. We were directly behind the players.

“Hey.” I let go of Brooklyn’s hand to poke Ford in the shoulder. “No. This is not what I wanted.”

But Ford ignored my protests, pressing on, going deeper and deeper into the fray. When we finally stopped, we were dead center, front row, directly behind the team. My chest rose and fell, anger rippling off me. I couldn’t yell at Uncle Ford right here. It would draw attention and then Ashton’s prophecy would become a reality.

“You are so dead,” I threatened as we sat down.

But Uncle Ford just grinned, looking so pleased with himself.

“Told you,” Ashton said from down on the end next to Tally. “You should’ve called me. Not Ford.”

But Uncle Ashton wouldn’t have bankrolled this operation.

“Anna!” Brooklyn yelled, delighted. “There he is!”

My eyes followed where she was pointing and I ducked behind Ford’s shoulder. Because I swear Blue’s head snapped around when she said my name. He was on the grass in front of us, getting his arm warmed up. Throwing a ball repeatedly to the same player. I had to have imagined it. There was no way he’d heard that above the crowd. Even if we were practically up his nostrils.

Ford grinned as I slowly peeked over his shoulder. I sat there for a moment, covertly watching the boy who’d once been my whole world. Correction. Watching the man. He wasn’t a boy anymore. But even with all the years between us, my heart did a stupid clip-clop. Good gosh, I’d forgotten how cute he was. No. Handsome. His light brown hair was too long. He needed a trim. And he was leaner, more muscled, all the baby fat gone. And taller. Probably four or five inches. But the years had been good to him. Very good.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, studying him, until I realized they were all watching me. Every single one. Ford, Brooklyn, Tally, and Ashton.

“Well?” Brooklyn asked, wide-eyed. “You’ve seen him. What’s your assessment?”

But I didn’t answer. I just watched Blue cocking that left arm and letting another pass fly, my fingers still pressed to my lips. All my fourteen-year-old memories came flooding back. Our first kiss, which had been my first kiss ever. Homecoming, Prom, watching movies in my living room every Saturday night because Silas said I wasn’t old enough for dates. Horse rides on the ranch, and kayaking down the river before Blue moved the next spring. His arms around me over and over again.

I should’ve felt guilty sitting there watching him, feeling all these feelings. I owed Jonah the last year of my life. He’d loved me, listened to me cry, helped me study, kissed me like crazy. I should’ve felt like a terrible person, feeling what I was feeling right then. But I didn’t. At all. And I couldn’t stop watching Blue throw that stupid ball. His veins popping out of his muscles. The ball gliding through the air like he was made for this.

I dropped my head into my hands. “I shouldn’t have come,” I muttered to nobody.

Ford sat back and put an arm around my shoulder. “I think that’s exactly why you should’ve. You only live once, Anna. Make sure you do it right.”

“That is terrible advice, coming from you,” Ashton said, leaning forward. “But from me, yeah.” He looked right at me. “You only live once, Anna. Make sure you do it right.”

“Okay,” Ford grumbled and I wondered if the booze was wearing off. Ford was a walking rain cloud. Or at least he had been. Until he won the reality competition show that landed him a contract and a band. But once he’d had money for alcohol, and maybe worse vices, he’d been a lot more cheerful.

Blue felt for something underneath the collar of his jersey, pulled whatever it was out, and pressed it to his lips.

“Oh, the kiss is done. He can play ball now.” Ashton rubbed his hands together.

I scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Blue has a necklace he wears every game,” Ashton said. “Apparently he never takes it off. Says it’s his lucky charm.” Ashton leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Everyone says if anything ever happens to it, that’ll probably be the end of his football career.”

Tally snapped her fingers. “Like Samson and Delilah.

“Yup. Exactly like that,” Ashton said. “I hope for his sake the tape always holds.”

Brooklyn and I shared a look. I shook my head. There was no way Blue was still wearing my necklace. I knew for a fact he’d dated plenty of girls since me.

“The tape?” Brooklyn asked.

“They’ll tape it on him in a couple of minutes,” Ford said.

Tally winced. “Ahh, that’s gotta be painful to take off after the game.” Sure enough, a man walked over and started doing just that.

I leaned forward on my elbows watching closely. You could tell they had it down to a science. It was done in less than thirty seconds.

“Mr. Dupree?” I looked over to see an extremely tall blond woman in a Knoxville tracksuit. “We’re ready for you.”

“Um, what?” I said as Ford hopped out of his seat. He tossed his hat to Brooklyn, who caught it and gave it a sniff. Then he laid his sunglasses on his seat so the whole stadium could see his face.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” an announcer bellowed. “Please get ready for our national anthem.”

Ford winked at me. “YOLO, Anna. It’s all about the YOLO.” Then he followed the woman. After thirty feet, they reached a small gate leading to some stairs. An usher, who looked more like a bodyguard, opened the gate and let them through. I stood—we all did—to watch Ford follow the woman down the stairs and onto the field. When he got to the grass, another woman handed him a guitar and a mic. He blithely slipped the guitar strap over his head like he was a country singer or something.

My eyes flashed to Ashton, my mouth open, feeling like I was going to puke.

“I told you,” he said, not the least bit smug. In fact, he looked like it hurt him to admit it. “It’s all about him. If there’s attention to be had, he’s going to get it.”

Tears threatened and I shoved them back down, gulping air. Deep breaths, I told myself. Just because Blue will know Ford is here doesn’t mean he’ll know I am.

Brooklyn squeezed my hand. Ashton walked over and stood by me, slipping his arm around my waist. I laid my head against his shoulder, wishing I could cry right here, right now.

He laid his cheek against the top of my head. “If it makes you feel any better, I think there’s some deep, dark hurt in Ford, and he’s trying to find a way around it. I honestly think he can’t help himself.”

It didn’t make it any better. Not at all. The fact that my uncle who, up until this moment, I trusted with my life, would use this opportunity to get attention left me gutted. I’m being selfish, I told myself. Not everything is about me.

The announcer started again. “We all know that here in good ole Tennessee—our home sweet home—we have to sing our beloved national anthem before every fooootbaaaallll gaaaaaaame. Tonight we’d like to welcome a resident of our great state who’s never sung for us before. You all know him from Whiskey and Women. Let’s hear it for Fooooord Duuupreeeeee!”

I blew out my breath as the stadium exploded.

Uncle Ford jogged to the middle of the fifty-yard line, waving. His face was plastered all over the massive Jumbotron on the south end of the stadium. Everyone roared. Tally covered her ears, looking like a deer in the headlights.

Ford jammed the mic in his back pocket, strummed his guitar and began singing. I straightened, hand over my heart, to give my country the respect she deserved. But I could’t enjoy his dulcet tones this time. When the song was over, everyone stayed standing. We glanced at one another, confused.

“Good evening, Tenneeeesseeeeeeee!” Ford intoned into the mic. Another explosion of cheers. “It’s great to be here with you.” More shouting and whistling.

Someone yelled, “I’ll Rocky Top you, Ford Dupree!”

He wore a coy grin. “I know I’m expected to sing ‘Rocky Top’ now as a solo, but if it’s okay with y’all I think I’ll turn it into a duet. What do you say?”

More cheering.

“What’s he doing?” I asked Ashton, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

But he didn’t answer, just watched, wearing an expression of concern.

Ford glanced around, his eyes mischievous. “Aaannaaa?” he called and my heart hit the concrete. “Aaaannaaa Baanaanaa?”

“Noooo,” I choked. “Absolutely not.”

Ashton looked as sick as I felt. He called Ford a nasty name under his breath.

“Well, now we know why he made us sing ‘Rocky Top’ on repeat,” Brooklyn said.

Then Ford had the gall to laugh. “You guys, I think my niece is feeling kind of shy. Could y’all help me out?”

“What the…” the words died in Brooklyn’s throat. She pointed to the Jumbotron, and I looked over to see my massive, horrified face staring back at me. The stadium erupted in laughter and cheers. I righted my expression and pasted on a smile. Looking at the Jumbotron, it was more of a grimace.

“Aaaannnnaaaaa?” Ford called again, but this time one hundred thousand fans echoed back, “Aaaaaaannnnaaaaaa?”

“Ma’am!” The woman who’d led Ford away minutes earlier was standing by the gate, motioning for me to come.

My eyes darted to Ashton then Brooklyn then Tally, all of them looking as shocked and helpless as I felt.

“Ann-a! Ann-a! Ann-a!” the stadium screamed.

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Brooklyn yelled over the buzz. “You’re at least three million views on TikTok either way.” She gave me a little shove. “Go!”

One foot in front of the other, I went, because she was right. I was going viral either way. The question was if I was going to be a poised, put-together viral video or a laughing stock. The woman took me by the elbow, spurring me along, down the steps and onto the field. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked past the football players mere feet away. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel Blue watching.

“She’s hot,” one of them said when I passed. “Somebody get me her number!”

I gulped and sent up a prayer pleading not to let me trip.

As I came toward him, Ford beamed, so proud of himself. I tried to glare him to death but then I noticed a camera filming every micro-twitch in my expression. Ten feet from Ford the woman finally let go of me. Ford pulled me into a showy hug like we hadn’t seen each other in a year and not like we’d just been sitting together four minutes ago.

The entire stadium let out a collective “Awwwww.”

I put a hand over the mic Ford was holding and hissed, “I’m gonna kill you when this is over.” I realized too late that his guitar had a mic clipped to the end and another was hooked to his shirt collar.

And the entire stadium had heard me.

They burst into hoots and cheers.

“YOLO, Anna. YOLO.” He grinned. My hands were convulsing and I was about to start sobbing right there in front of everyone. He must’ve noticed because he pulled me against him. “No worries, you got this. You sang it beautifully in the car.”

Another collective sigh.

Then he smiled up at the crowd. “Y’all, not only is she gorgeous but she has an amazing voice too. Just wait.”

More applause and catcalling.

He handed me the mic, which I clutched with both hands for dear life. Then he dropped his hand from my back and gripped his guitar, getting it situated. He strummed the first chord. I blew out my breath and forced a smile.

He gave me an encouraging nod and we started to sing. My voice shook but then he sang a little louder to cover me and I pulled it together. As the song went on, one note after the other, one word at a time, my voice got stronger. It turned out okay. Probably better than okay. I’d been in choir all through high school. I could sing. But it wasn’t Ford-level singing. It wasn’t make women cry or make men request your song on the radio when they’re in the doghouse level singing. Still, from the cheers, and the crowd joining in on the chorus, it was passable.

The second it was over, I took a step forward trying to get myself the heck out of there. But Ford grabbed me by the elbow. “Hold up. We gotta do one more thing.”

I exhaled, eyes on the ground, at least grateful the singing was over.

But then Ford whispered in my ear, “Well, looky there.”

My head came up and I let out a little gasp.

Because Blue was twenty feet away, jogging straight for us with a bouquet of orange roses in his hands.