The road stretched out ahead, the hot sun beaming down as Johnny tapped the steering wheel to the beat of an old country mixtape. His grin was lazy, crooked, and way too proud as he glanced her way. “You ever seen anything like it?” he asked, nodding at the rolling Tennessee hills. “Whole lotta nothin’, huh?”

You leaned your head against the window, smirking. “Yeah, I can see why you left.”

“Hey,” he shot back, feigning offence “This ‘whole lotta nothin’’ raised me, sweetheart. Every busted knuckle, every dumb idea? Right here.”

“Ah, so it’s the dirt’s fault you’re like this,” she teased, earning that wild, sharp laugh she swore she could feel in her chest.

“Smartass,” he muttered, shaking his head, but his grin stayed. It always did with her

Minutes passed in easy silence, the radio crackling, his fingers still drumming along to the beat. But then, quieter, he said “You didn’t have to come, y’know.”

your eyes flicked to him. “You serious?”

“Yeah, I mean—” He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes on the road. “Just barns, dirt, and my old man tellin’ me I shoulda been a plumber.” He grinned, but it wasn’t as sharp this time.

She stared at him for a second longer than she should have. “Yeah, well,” she said, looking back out the window. “Maybe I wanted to see where all the bad ideas started.”

He snorted. “Careful, darlin’. I’ll show you the exact haystack I jumped off when I broke my arm at nine. Real tourist attraction.”

When the old barn finally came into view, it stood at the top of a hill, leaning but still standing. He slowed the car to a stop, eyes locked on it like it was an old friend. “There she is,” he said, quieter this time. “Ain’t changed a bit.”

Her gaze followed his. It wasn’t much to look at, just weathered wood and rusted nails, but somehow, she could feel it. “Bet you climbed that roof,” she said, pointing.

“Climbed it?” he grinned, throwing the car in park. “I jumped off it.”

“And broke…?”

“Wrist,” he said, cracking a smile as he shoved the door open. “Worth it.”