A Song That Never Ends (Broken Love Duet 3)

“Nonsense. Have you eaten?”

“Well, no—”

“Then it’s settled. We have more than we can eat anyway. You’ll be doing us a favor.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble….”

“Hush now,” she mumbles. “Callie brings enough to feed a family of twenty as it is. It will make me feel good knowing it’s not going to waste.”

“Callie’s here?” I ask, looking around as we make our way to their dining room. I smile. I don’t think anyone sits down at a table to eat anymore, but the Johnsons always have—at least ever since I’ve known them.

“No, she went out of town for work already. Still, she always brings us enough food to last a week,” Mrs. Johnson explains.

“That’s the truth. Callie’s a dang fine cook, too,” Mr. Johnson adds.

“Why is she out of town? I thought she was in the wedding?”

“Callie’s a traveling nurse and one that’s in high demand. She goes all over working. This week it’s Arkansas but only for three days. Then, she’s on vacation to help with the wedding.”

I digest this information slowly. There’s a lot to take in. After going so long without hearing from Callie, it feels like I’m getting big chunks all at once.

“That seems like a lot traveling for her to be doing on her own.”

“It is. Last month she was in North Dakota for three weeks. Henry and I begged her not to go, but she said she needed the money and wouldn’t listen. I’ll just go get you a plate,” Mrs. Johnson adds, walking toward the kitchen.

“Is she in bad shape financially?” I ask. Feelings of guilt swamp me. I could have helped her. Despite everything, I do care about her. I always have. It just got easier to pretend she didn’t exist. It made everything somehow less painful.

“Who, Callie? That girl has more sense than anyone I know. She just bought that home, and she’s already paid the land off and is ahead on payments on her trailer. She’s got in her head now to have a storm shelter built.”

“Well, Henry, you put that idea in her head,” Mrs. Johnson says, coming back into the room.

“Yeah, I guess I did, but she needs to be safe.”

“So, Callie doesn’t live in your rental anymore?”

“Nope. We offered to sell it to her, but she wanted out of town. We had some property that we were doing nothing with. You know that small track of land out on old Route 49?” Mr. Johnson asks.

I nod because I do remember. He bought it the year I started working for him. He said he wanted to build his wife’s dream home there. Mrs. Johnson informed him that she was too old to move. He grinned when he added that she told him her dream home was anywhere as long as they were together. Their marriage was always extremely strong. They are what I envisioned for myself.

For myself and Callie.

That sure as hell didn’t work out. I push those thoughts out of my head. I can’t allow myself to go there. Every single time that I have, it has never worked out well. I paste a smile on my face as we sit down at the table. “What’s for dinner?” I ask.

“Well, we had barbecue chicken last night.”

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had Callie’s potato salad, boy,” Mr. Johnson says and as much as hearing things about Callie hurts, I feel a smile stretch over my lips. I haven’t been called a boy in forever.

“Yes, well, tonight is meatloaf with mashed potatoes and corn.”

“Sounds good,” I reply, not feeling hungry at all—except maybe for a beer and the solitude of my house. Hell, who am I kidding? Most of me wants to run back to Nashville. I was insane to agree to come here for Katie and Jeff’s wedding.

Completely insane.

CHAPTER 7

Katie

“Oh my God! It’s Ryker Lane!” I squeal, sounding like a ten-year-old fan girl meeting her favorite boy band in the world.

“God, stop,” Reed grumps, rolling his eyes before walking toward me. He wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground. I lay my head on his shoulder and smile. Reed is comfort. He and Jeff remind me of one another.

They’re about as far from Jake as a girl can get.

“How are you, Katie?”

“I’m good, Reed. Really good.” He puts me back down on the ground and just stares at me. “It’s been a while,” I murmur, feeling a little weird. I mean, to me he’s just plain old Reed Lane, but it’s unnerving to see him in person and realize he’s the same man that is on millions of magazines—not to mention the shows on TV.

“Too long, pain in my ass.”

I laugh—just as he intended.

“How did you manage to get here early? Didn’t you have a big concert going on?”

“I postponed a few dates,” he answers with a shrug.