Page 110 of Tracking Wolfe

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “I know, I know. I didn’t do a great job of hiding my feelings. But now…” I tested the words on my tongue. “We’re together. For real.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Well, fucking finally! Jesus fuck, Wolfe. That was the longest slow burn in romance history. Congratulations.” His forehead creased again. “But then… where is he?”

“Not far behind me, I hope. But there’s something I needed to do first. And I was hoping you could help.”

When I explained part of my plan, Lennon called two of his ranch hands to return the vehicle for me while he loaded me into his own truck. On the ride into town, my brain spun like a washing machine with an unbalanced load. By the time we pulled around back of our cousin Alex’s restaurant to find parking, my palms were sweating, but I was even more sure of my plan.

The Spring Sling would be set up right in the middle of Founder’s Row in the center of town, with a music stage at one end and artists’ booths in tidy rows along either side of the blocked-off street.

Several singers and groups would play on the music stage after the introduction and welcome speech, and the coordinator had promised me a ten-minute spot three acts into the lineup.

“I’ve never performed in front of an audience before,” I whispered as Lennon threw the truck into Park.

I hadn’t told my brother about Fletcher Coe. Not yet. I’d only told him I’d arranged to perform a couple of songs for Papa tonight.

“It’s been way too long since I’ve heard you play or sing, Wolfe, but I know you’re going to do great. And if it comes from your heart, he’s gonna love it.”

My little brother was a softie. One of the kindest men I knew.

I reached over and squeezed his arm. “Thank you. And thanks for being here. Promise to rush me off the stage if I vomit or otherwise make a fool of myself?”

His warm laughter filled the cab of the truck. “This town could use a little drama. Give us something to post to our socials besides the new flavor at the dairy barn. Spoiler alert: it’s salted caramel.”

He had no idea. Legacy’s socials were going to light the entertainment world on fire tonight. I wanted to whimper.

“You ready?” Lennon asked with a grin.

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

I grabbed my guitar from the back, opened the door, and stepped out into the cool Montana night. As we made our way through the crowds to the wings of the stage, I hid behind Lennon’s larger frame to avoid being stopped for a chat. The only person I spared a glance at was my sister, Rosie, whose pink cheek I stopped to kiss on my way past Avery Marian’s painting booth.

“Wolfe!” Rosie squealed. “You came!”

Lennon made our excuses and continued to lead me to the stage until he introduced me to the music coordinator, a woman named Nessa.

We spoke for a couple of minutes to confirm my tech requirements, and then I was shuffled over to wait behind the band that would play before my set.

I pulled out my phone to review the new song I’d planned, trying my hardest not to hyperventilate. Papa’s breathing exercises ran through my head, forcing me to slow down and focus. Prepare. After drinking a few sips of water, I did some vocal warm-ups.

I was nervous as fuck, yes, but I could taste the freedom that waited for me on the other side of this mountain, and I wanted it badly.

Finally, it was my turn to go on. The local emcee took the stage between acts and introduced me. “Tonight, we have a special treat. An unexpected addition to our lineup. Please welcome to the stage Wolfe Marian, who’s here to perform a couple of songs for his father, Jude.”

A rumbling murmur rolled through the crowd, confusion and interest.

Nothing bad, more like surprise.

I slung my guitar across my back and jogged up the four steps before thanking the emcee and taking his place at the mic stand.

“Uh, hi, everyone.” I took a look out at the small crowd that had gathered around the music stage. Many of the festival attendees were roaming through the artists’ booths, but even more filled the rows of folding seats in front of the stage. “Thanks for letting me crash the party.”

There was a titter of laughter. “Before I sing a song for my dad, I’m going to sing a song many of you already know. It’s a song I wrote—” I cleared my throat. “A song I wrote many years ago when I had my first crush.”

The crowd had quieted down a little, and now they rewarded me with a collective “Awww.”

“Back when I wrote this, I never dreamed I’d get to play it live. That I’d want my crush to hear it and know it was for him. But that same guy reminded me recently that the truth’s more powerful than any secret.”

I took a deep breath while the crowd seemed to hold theirs.