Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2) by Lauren Runow (christmas read aloud .txt) 📕

imagine going through something like that, but after every storm, there’s a rainbow. I promise.”

I let out a breath, feeling like it’s ridding my life of an extra ten pounds as I do so. I don’t know what my future holds, but making peace with my past was the first step, and I have Tucker to thank for that.

Chapter Fifteen

Justine

I’ve had this feeling of relief all morning. Telling Tucker the truth about what happened to me was more refreshing than I’d thought it would be. Knowing that I was in his arms and no one could hurt me as I relived my nightmare was just the therapy I’d needed to realize that I am okay, that no one is going to harm me again.

With this renewed outlook on life, I’m also excited that Adam Jacobson stood by his word and responded to my text within minutes, setting up a time so we could chat later this week. Now that I have the interview lined up, I have to get to work on other articles for the magazine.

Where the interview with Adam and Sarah is going to be more serious and a longer piece, some of the stuff I do for the magazine is more casual and fun.

Since I’m in my hometown, I thought I would take advantage of being here, and when I pitched ideas about high school reunions and running into people you haven’t seen in a while, my boss loved the idea. Now, I just have to figure out what it will actually be about.

I put a shout-out on Facebook for any of our high school friends to meet like we did in the old days, out by the bridge that Davis built for a bonfire and kegs.

I never thought buying a keg would be something I’d use my research spending budget for, but here I am, at Mason Creek Market, letting work pick up the tab for tonight.

Tucker laughed when I told him what I needed help with, but he still agreed and showed up to do the heavy lifting right on time.

“Okay, Justine, here you go,” Alana, the store manager, says as she rolls it out on a cart. “I take it, you’ll need cups too?” She holds up a package of red Solo cups.

“Yes, please.” I smile as I push the cart around the corner.

Tucker takes it to his truck as I stop at the register to pay. While there are three short lanes, this is usually the only one that’s open, as evidenced by the obvious wear in the old-school black-and-white tiled floor.

My mom said Alana’s been trying to convince old man Morton to renovate, but personally, I love the Market’s vintage charm. From the Norman Rockwell–style pictures on the walls to the wooden crates they still use to display produce and sale items, this place is a blast from the past that I’ve come to adore.

“I think this will be the first legal beer run at the old bridge. At least, that I know of,” Alana says.

“I know. That’s why we’re doing it on a Monday. I didn’t want to take away from any teenagers’ time out there.”

We both smile at the memories of when we were younger. Though Alana was a few years below me in school, that didn’t matter. I know it was a tradition that stayed between all ages.

When I walk outside, Tucker already has the keg strapped in and ready to go.

“Did you really get that in the truck by yourself?” I ask when I see Tucker opening and closing his hand like he hurt it.

He shakes his head. “Are you crazy? Do you know how heavy that thing is? Wyatt over there helped me get it in.” He points to the patrol car parked a few spots over. “And, yes, I told him exactly what you were planning, and he said he’d stop by when he’s off work.”

I laugh out loud. “Funny how we used to pray the cops wouldn’t show, and here you are, inviting them.”

“Welcome to being old, when the cops are now younger than you.” He smirks as we get in the truck and head out.

The bridge is historical in Mason Creek and has a romantic significance, but to all the kids, it’s the place to either make out or get drunk. Legend says a man built it for his wife when they were just dating. She loved this part of the forest but was always frustrated that she couldn’t cross over to wander through the rest of it because of the river. He built the bridge for her, so she could walk the forest without obstacles. It became their place, and he later proposed to her here.

I told everyone to stop by after work, so it’s weird, pulling up when it’s still daylight outside. Whenever we came out here in high school, it was with only the light of the moon, so we wouldn’t get caught.

Tucker sets up a few stools he grabbed from the garage to make it easier to get into the bed of his truck instead of trying to get it out. Right around six o’clock, with only a few minutes to spare, people start rolling in. Laken is one of the first.

“Hey, girl,” I say as she exits her car.

“You really weren’t kidding. You brought a keg and all,” she says in surprise.

“I told you, the article is going to be about if you can go back to the way things were in high school after you’ve been gone for ten years.” I hold out my arms. “And what’s more high school than a keg at the bridge?”

“You nailed that one, for sure. Who’s all coming?”

“Not sure. I saw a few names I recognized and a few I didn’t. I put it out to anyone from when we were there, so we’ll see. I know when I said free beer, it attracted more people.”

“Good job, Just. Free beer always wins people over.”

“Free anything in this town,” Tucker chimes in