CHAPTER EIGHT ╱ Lonely Road

            I walk through the sun-dappled streets of Graceland, the weight of the past week pressing down on me like a stone. The Georgia heat seems to crawl beneath my skin, a tangible reminder of everything I thought I was running from—except I'm not running. Not anymore. I've simply . . . come home.

Pearl skips ahead, blissfully unaware of the wreckage that has become my life. I watch her, a slight smile tugging at my lips despite myself. She's my everything. Her joy, the only thing that still matters.

Graceland's always been considered a small town, the kind where everyone knows everyone's business—or at least, they think they do. Right now, I'm sure the whole town knows mine. I have no doubt that when my world cracked open, every pair of eyes in this place had been watching.

My steps slow as I approach the new bar and grill off Main Street, where the old creamery used to be nestled—its rustic feel a steady reminder that although this town reworks every once in a while, modernizing where it's able, at its core, it's seemingly frozen in time.

            I think of my grandpa's place, and then I swallow the memory down.

There is a bright cherry red neon sign with the words Badlands looped meticulously in glass tubing, obscured in the light of day, that embraces a welcoming, almost rebellious energy.

            Lucy's place.

           I hadn't planned to stop here. But the thought of heading over to my Gran's hair salon, with its steady clamor of curlers and gossip, feels like it might suffocate me. I need something else. Something to drown out the sting of everything, while also keeping a few dollars in my pockets.

The moment I step inside, the noise hits me—laughter, music, the clink of glasses—and for a second, I feel like I've stepped into a different life. A different world.

Lucy's behind the bar, a cropped band tee clinging to her torso, a messy blonde ponytail perched atop her head—bangs scattered about her forehead—and that signature smirk playing across her red lips.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Lucy calls out when her eyes catch mine, her voice loud enough to make a few heads turn. Pearl is tucked behind me as I stroll toward the bar.

            She leans over the bar-top, wrapping me in a hug that's a little too tight, like she's afraid I might disappear if she lets go. "I knew you'd come crawling in here. You've had that 'I need a drink' look on your face since you rolled into the drive. How about—"

"Aunt Lulu!" Pearl interrupts, peeling out of her hideaway, her arms already stretched wide, inviting Lucy to scoop her up. Lucy's expression falters for a split second, a flash of shock in her eyes before she masks it with a grin, then turns quickly to whisk Pearl into her arms.

"Hey, Pearlie girl!" she greets, her voice adopting a sweet edge.

I suppress a laugh, my shoulders shaking as I try to stifle the sound. "Funny, but I was just thinking I need a job. You hiring?"

Lucy looks me up and down, her hazel eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something like pity. "You want to bartend?" she asks, arching a thickened eyebrow.

I shift uncomfortably but nod. "Yeah. I don't think I'm cut out for the salon life right now, like everyone's insisting without saying. I need something . . . different."

Lucy snorts, leaning back slightly. "You wanna make drinks and flirt with drunk people? Hell yeah, you can have a job here. I need someone who can handle a crowd and take some shit. You've got that in spades."

My heart catches in my throat for a split second, the words cutting a little too close to the bone. But I force myself to keep it together. "I just need to stay busy," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Get out of my head for a while."

Lucy's face softens for a fleeting moment, then she grins again, that lightness in her eyes flickering back, "You're not gonna get that in here. But I'll teach you how to throw down a decent gin and tonic. You're hired."

I release a breath I wasn't even aware I had been holding. This wasn't how I expected things to unfold. But maybe that's the point. Maybe this is exactly what I need: to be surrounded by noise, by people who don't know my history, or care enough about the heartbreak that's been dragging me down. To lose myself in something else for a while—something that feels like mine.

As Lucy walks off to grab a tray of drinks, I feel the familiar weight of my daughter's small hand slip into mine. Maybe it's time to stop pretending like I'm the same person I was before him. Spencer. Maybe it's time to let this town see me in a new light. The same town that had watched my downfall might just witness my rise, too.

The sun was dipping low behind the rugged hills that cradled the Graceland, casting long shadows across the dusty road that led toward my childhood home. I noticed Smith sitting perched on his truck, leaning against the worn fender, his boots tapping absently on the gravel, as I eased down the drive.

I had left him waiting for an hour, though it felt much longer. As I pulled in, I watched his eyes lift and shift toward the gravel road. The windows were cracked just enough to let in the quiet hum of the evening air, mingling with the distant calls of cows from the pasture and the soft clink of metal from Smith's ranch next door.

He knew I had been out all day with Pearl. Lucy had called to tell him so on my behalf after I realized it was getting late, and I didn't have his number.

Smith straightens as we edge closer. I take a moment to flick my eyes toward the rearview, finding Pearl's head bobbing sleepily against the window still. As I gently press on the brakes, Smith pushes off the truck and steps into the path.

My tired eyes meet his as I roll the window down further, "I'm sorry we're late. She fell asleep halfway home." I manage to keep my voice warm, though it stills sounds strained, like I haven't found a way to rest since everything went to hell. Probably because I haven't.

Smith grins, no doubt trying to soften the moment. "It's okay. I figured you'd be tuckered out after all that walking." He takes a step closer, leaning in so I could hear him over the soft hum of the engine. "How was your day?"

I hesitate, my fingers twitching on the steering wheel, my gaze flicking briefly to the rearview again. "It was...nice," I reveal slowly, then add, almost too quickly, "I needed it. She needed it."

Smith studies me for a moment, the silence between us heavy with unspoken things. Finally, he clears his throat. "About last night...I know you've got a lot on your plate right now."

My gaze drops to my lap, fingers fidgeting with the strap of my purse. "I do. I really do, Smith." My voice lowers, and I spare a glance back at him, uncertainty settling deep in my bones. "I meant what I said. I don't know what I'm doing yet. Everything feels...like it's falling apart. But I can't pretend like there isn't something there. Like I don't feel it."

He leans in a little closer, his expression softening, the air thick with the weight of our words. "I know you're in a tough spot, Junie. I'm not tryin' to push, not even tryin' to pry. I just...I just want you to know, I'm here. Always have been. If you ever want to talk. Or—" he pauses, then gives me a half-smile, trying to break the tension as always,"—or if you want me to teach your girl how to ride a horse, like I promised. I'm a man of my word."

I feel my lips twitch, a shadow of a smile threatening to pull at the corners. "I know you that's why you're out here. It's all she's been talking about since we left your place yesterday. I'll make sure she doesn't fall asleep next time. You have my word."

Smith chuckles at that, glancing toward the back seat where Pearl's curled up, fast asleep. "She's lucky. If she'd had half my energy, she'd be running circles around us by now."

I soften, my shoulders sagging just a little as the tension ebbs, "I don't know what to do, Smith. I'm not sure about anything right now. I thought...I thought I had it all figured out, but then everything changed, and now...I can't seem to make sense of anything anymore."

"I get it," he replies quietly. "And you don't have to figure it all out in a day. Take it one step at a time. I'll be here, no matter what you decide."

I force myself to meet his gaze again, a quiet understanding settling between us. Neither of us has the answers, but there's something unspoken between us that can't be ignored. No matter how hard we try, or have tried in the past. The weight of that realization is heavy, but not entirely unwelcome.

A sigh splits my lips apart, "I'm scared, Smith. Scared of what's next, scared of what I might be letting go of—a-and scared of what I might be holding on to."

"You don't have to have all the answers today, honey," he reassures, his voice gentle but firm. "But you don't have to carry it all alone, either."

I nod, though it is abundantly clear the path ahead is still murky. But for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel so lonely.