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tell Chris it was a rare Fender Stratocaster. Purchased with his dad when Cole was thirteen.
    “How’d you meet this girl? Which friend is setting you up? Are you taking her to Ella’s? ’Cause you know Mom will be all over it.”
    Their mother, Tina Danner, owned the old Heart’s Bend diner, Ella’s. Worked there as a waitress after Dad left . . . by invitation of the FBI.
    “I’m going on a blind meeting, okay? And not to Ella’s. You think I’ve lost my mind?”
    “Blind meeting ?” Chris said, his face lit with a sloppy grin, an arrogant grad student glint in his eyes. “Bro, it’s a date .”
    Of course he was right. But Cole couldn’t quite admit it yet. That being said, he should’ve insisted on a Nashville location. The trouble with living in small-town Tennessee was everyone knew your business, your name, how cute you were in the first-grade Christmas pageant when you sang “Away in a Manger” too loud and off-key.
    “I’m meeting her at the Burger Barn.” Cole reached for a napkin and flicked it toward his brother. “You have sauce on your chin.”
    Chris snatched the napkin with swagger. “Are you kidding? Everyone in town goes to the Burger Barn on the weekend.”
    “Technically, this is Sunday night. Not a weekend. And the Barn is on the edge of town, on the other side of that old wedding shop. Tucked away. Less likely to have foot traffic.”
    “Oh, right, the church crowd goes right home after Sunday-night services. I forgot .”
    “They’ll be cleared out by eight.”
    “Reverend Smith closes the place down with rounds of root beer and a medley of ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ and ‘This Is My Story.’ ” Chris shoved the pizza box toward Cole. “Take a piece. You look like you need some sustenance.”
    Cole eyed a small slice. Now that he was ready and waiting to go, his empty stomach played ravenous notes against his ribs. He’d been too busy to stop for lunch, working on Sunday to finish a remodel that was over schedule and over budget.
    The holidays had put his crew behind, and he wanted to finish up lingering projects to get ready for new business. He had a lot of bids out, and he expected a full work queue by the middle of the month. He had to because Danner Construction was running out of jobs and out of money.
    He bit into the pizza with a glance at his brother. “Does Mom know you’re here? She might have fixed dinner.”
    “She’s working. She and Cap are both covering a shift for someone out sick.” Chris moved between Mom’s house and Cole’s like a flowing river. “I thought I’d hang here, watch football. You’re on for the bowl games tomorrow, right? I’ve got some guys coming over. Oh, hey, you remember Jason Saglimbeni? He’s back in town. We were thinking of getting up a jam session before I go back to DC. I haven’t played drums in over a year.”
    “You guys go ahead.”
    “Come on, Cole. Take that Stratocaster out of its glass tower and jam with us. You know that’s what Dad—”
    “I don’t need you to tell me what Dad would want.” Cole checked the time. “’Cause I don’t really care what Dad would want.”
    “You can’t hide from him forever.”
    “Who says I’m hiding?”
    “I do. When was the last time you played? Talked to Dad?”
    “Hey, look at me.” Cole stretched his arms wide. “I’m going on a date nine months after my fiancée died. I think that’s accomplishment enough.”
    Actually, she was his ex-fiancée, but no one really knew that. Except maybe Haley, Tammy’s best friend. The breakup and her diagnosis happened at the same time. And the whirlwind took over. Then death and grief. He didn’t have the emotional bank account for “jamming” or talking to his deadbeat dad.
    Cole paused at the door leading out to the breezeway and garage. “Don’t leave your pizza box out. Clean up when you’re done.”
    Into the cold evening, the air doused the heat of Chris’s random confrontation. Dad and music. He