Prologue
Grace
The night before I moved to Green Valley, I had a conversation with my dad that I’d reflect on often as time went on. Sometimes I’d think about the things he said, the things I’d said in return, try to remember exactly the way we phrased things the day before my recently fired ass moved across the country, following the lead of my twin brother as we sojourned from LA to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.
He and I talked about the family curse like it was a joke, because, at the time, that’s what I thought it was.
As best I could remember, the conversation went a little something like this:
"Curses aren't real."
The voice on the other end of the line harrumphed mightily. "’Course they're not. Look and me and your mother. Would anyone accuse us of true everlasting love?"
Any day of the week, I'd give that a hell no, and I'd do it twice on Sundays. If there was a competition for the least compatible human beings, my parents would be neck and neck with some of the best reality TV couples you'd ever seen.
"So why are you bringing it up again?" I asked my dad.
He sighed. "Well, if you and your brother are really moving here, you best get used to hearing about it."
"Of course, we’re really moving there. My car is packed. It's Green Valley or bust come sunrise."
"They all claim it's true, Gracey B."
Even though my dad couldn't see me, I rolled my eyes at the nickname. A shortened version of my name—Grace Bailey Buchanan—had always been Gracey B to him. "I know they believe it, Dad, that doesn't mean it's true."
"Just sayin’ is all." Through the phone, I heard the telltale creak of his recliner, the one he refused to replace, even though it was older than me. It was uglier than sin, and the most comfortable chair in the world. He and my mom fought tooth and nail over that damn chair in the divorce, she'd told me, but in the end, she decided she wanted the dog, not the chair.
The dog only lived two years after she moved herself, me, and my twin brother, Grady, out to California. The chair though, that would never, ever die.
In the middle of my own apartment was one sad-looking lawn chair, since all my other belongings were packed in my car, or had already been sold or donated. That creaky recliner sounded pretty good right then. Still, the lawn chair held my weight just fine as I sat carefully.
"Pops, if the Buchanan love curse was real, how do they explain you and Mom?"
"I don't ask how they explain it," he said firmly. So firmly, it made me smile.
He wouldn't.
My aunt and uncle, his only family in Green Valley, firmly believed that when a Buchanan falls in love, it happens once, and it happens at first sight. According to them, when a Buchanan finds The One, they'll never love anyone else. Uncle Robert and Aunt Fran met at fifteen, and had been married forever, one of those sickeningly sweet couples you couldn't hate even if you wanted to. Two of my cousins—their sons—had the exact same thing happen to them, thereby cementing the truth that had supposedly been in the family for five generations.
"Maybe I'll avoid it anyway," I said. "Even if it was true."
"Why's that?"
"Aren't I the first Buchanan woman born in five generations?"
He chuckled. "Sure are, Gracey B. Aunt Fran said it was only allowed because you came out with a brother."
I sank my head back and smiled. "I'm excited to see Aunt Fran."
"And they're excited to have you." He must have shifted, because the creak sounded again. "Wish I had more space at my place for you and your brother."
There was enough embarrassment in his voice that I pulled the phone away from my ear to collect myself. I didn't begrudge my father's humble life. Just the opposite. I'd take his work ethic every time over the billionaire playboys I crossed paths with in LA.
"We'll be just down the road. We'll see you all the time," I promised. "Uncle Robert is just giving us a place to stay until we get our feet under us."
"My kids moving to Green Valley," he said with a smile clear in his tone.
"Some crazy shit right there, ain't it?" I asked, deliberately curling my voice around a twangy southern accent.
He laughed, just like I hoped he would. "When are you getting in again?"
"Should take me three days."
Dad whistled. "You sure you want to make that trip by yourself?"
"Car won't drive itself." I picked at a loose thread on my jean shorts. "It'll be fine. I've got some audiobooks loaded up, and a new EP to listen to. I’ll have three days to ponder what I want to do with my life, since I find myself without anything to do all day."
“We make jokes about being fired now?”
“No,” I drawled. “But if I don’t joke about it, I’ll feel hopeless and frustrated and like I can’t do anything right.”
“That is something I’d like to avoid too. We’ll all suffer if that’s the case.”
The laugh burst out of me helplessly, because I couldn’t even deny the truth of it. My moods had a tendency to … well … spill over from the inside out. Anything I felt showed on my face, and once it showed on my face, the words were coming out of my mouth.
“Imagining me crying in the car for three days straight, are you?” I asked.
When he didn't answer, I sighed.
"It'll be fine. Besides, what could possibly go wrong, when I'm on my way to Tennessee to fall madly in love with the man of my dreams, who will fall prostrate in front of me, because we're destined to be together?"
He laughed. "All right, all right, I'll stop fussin'. Just … drive careful, okay? I've only got one daughter."
I grinned. "Pops, when I get there, Tennessee won't know what hit it."
"That's my girl," he said proudly.
That family love curse bullshit could kiss my ass.
Months later, I could recall having that thought as clear as if it happened yesterday.
Of course, what I couldn’t have possibly known then was that I wouldn’t have any choice in how the Buchanan curse affected me. How differently things would turn out for me than they did for the rest of my family. They got heart eyes and love at first sight, a soul-deep recognition of their heart’s perfect match.
Not me, though.
Oh no, the family love curse kicked my ass, and there was nothing I could’ve done about it.
Chapter 1
Grace
“Motherfucking son of a bitch deserted ass backwoods southern roads," I yelled skyward. For good measure, I smacked the hood of my stupid useless car.
Not that I believed in them, but this was not a good sign. And of course, this happened to me. Not Grady, who'd know what was wrong with his car. Me.
I couldn't tell a socket wrench from a tube sock.
The move to Tennessee was about a fresh start, and this bullshit was not what I had in mind.
Trees everywhere.
Mosquitoes everywhere, I thought grimly, right after I smacked a monster one off my arm.