Sweet Caroline by Rachel Hauck Read Free Book Online Page B

briefly in the last year, I watch him, wondering. Something’s . . . different.
    “We had a scary encounter in Paris. Sometimes fear is the only thing that makes us wake up and realize we’ve drifted way over life’s yellow line.”
    Humility is reflected in his transparency.
    “This song is called ‘Yellow Line.’”
    Jess jiggles my arm. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
    I shrug. “No.”
    “Me neither. And I keep up with news about him.”
    Mitch’s song floats over us.
    And I’ve crossed over the yellow line.
    Gone beyond where it’s safe to roam.
    I’ve gone too far with this will of mine.
    And I don’t know if I can ever come home.
    The melody resonates with hundreds of other Mitch-melodies that have painted my soul over the years. The ones he sang for me on his daddy’s porch, or mine, before Nashville lured him away. Tears surprise in my eyes. Behind me, Jess whispers to Ray for a napkin. Yes, definitely something’s changed with Mitch. Boundaries used to be the enemy, but this song reflects a different attitude.
    The population of Luther’s has probably doubled in the last five minutes. The air is stifling. I stand to shake the closed-in feeling of a crowded room. When I do, J. D. wraps his arm around my waist and holds me close. His chest is warm against my back.
    “You okay?” He whispers in my ear. The scent around him is clean and spicy.
    “Yes.”
    “Let’s get out of here,” he suggests.
    “O-okay.”
    Taking my hand, he leads me out the back door. I wave good-bye to Elle and Jess with a backward glance at Mitch. He catches me with a nod of his chin.
    Outside, the river breeze feels good and blows the sentiment of Mitch off of my senses.
    “I hope you don’t mind leaving early,” J. D. says, “but I work a double tomorrow and wanted some time alone with you.”
    “It feels good to be outside.”
    Sailboats drift by, beautiful with white lights. On nights like this I wonder how I could ever leave home.
    But Barcelona . . . I didn’t have a chance to talk to Elle.
    “So . . .” J. D. falls against the waterfront’s cement pylon, crossing his arms. “What’s the deal with you and O’Neal?”
    “Deal?” I lean next to him and watch a schooner bob on the river’s surface, waiting for the bridge to open.
    “Are you two, still, you know, close? A thing?”
    “Would I be here with you if we were?”
    He shrugs. “Maybe. You didn’t know he was going to be at Luther’s.”
    “Exactly, Deputy Rand.” I hip butt him. “You’re making my point.” J. D. scratches his hand over his close-cut dark hair. “Just checking.”
    “It’s no secret about Mitch and me. I loved him. But we didn’t work out, and after a bunch of years, I’m over him.”
    “Good to know.”
    We walk in silence toward his truck except for his boot heels scrap-ing against the walkway to the rhythm of my flip-flops. As we near the truck, he steps in front of me.
    “Can we do this again?”
    “Talk about me and Mitch?” I grin.
    He laughs. “No, go out.”
    “Do you have more in your repertoire than the Plaza and Luther’s?” J. D. pops open the passenger-side door. “I think I might.”

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    8
    T o: CSweeney From: Hazel Palmer
    Subject: Re: Stop the call!
    Caroline,
    When I told Carlos, I made up an excuse because I do NOT want you to lose this opportunity. Remember, no small-town or family emergency?
    This is what always happens to you. Someone needs you and your life becomes theirs. When is it going to be your time? Elle’s studied abroad and traveled. Mitch went to Nashville and found the pot of gold at the end of his rainbow. I hired on with SRG International and the great Carlos Longoria. And now you have an opportunity to do something extraordinary and what happens? Break this cycle and come to Barcelona.
    Remember