Home.

My smile lingered on them before I moved back to the standing microphone.

I’d already sung “Chain Link,” glancing at Deke occasionally throughout as I did.

I did that because Deke knew that song was for him. I didn’t need to make a point of it.

But it was more.

In all that had played out, no one was going to get that. That was only his.

And I wanted to keep that only for Deke.

For him and for me.

I’d also sung Rondstadt’s “It’s So Easy.” I did this for Deke too, liking the curve it put on his lips. But, as ever, I also did it for Joss.

I’d sung others of mine. But that wasn’t the vibe I wanted to give. The slow and the sweet.

No.

I wanted to give them Dad.

So, with his band backing me, we did lots of covers of Dad’s music. And halfway through my set, Lacey, Perry and Terrence (my girl was on after me, Dad’s buds had already done their sets), came out to the crowd going wild, and together we did Dad’s most well-known rompin’, stompin’ rock anthem.

And now it was time for me to wind up so Lacey could do her thing and then Stella and her boys could finish the night off.

I drew in breath and looked out into the dark sea of faces.

Then I said into the mic, “My father was Johnny Lonesome to you. But he was Dad to me. The best dad there could be.” The crowd roared but I kept talking and they quieted quickly to hear me. “I miss him. I’ll always miss him. And part of that is missing the fact that he was gone before he saw that I’d found my peace. But I know he knows that peace is with me. So I figure he’ll like me ending my time with you, singing the words to a freakin’ awesome song to share with you the peace a life of bounty saw fit to give to me.”

I felt the shift in the crowd as I spoke.

They knew, with the media all over it for weeks, what Rudy did, how Deke saved me, Aunt Tammy’s haggard face, Uncle Jimmy’s tight one, Tate, Ty, Wood, Chace, Bubba crowding me, trying to hide me from the cameras as they rushed me to and from cars and hospital.

They knew.

Everyone knew my bounty.

I stepped back, looked over my shoulder, nodded, giving the beat, one, two, three and four and…

I went back to the mic and it was me who flicked my fingernails on the strings for the first notes of Lynyrd Skynrd’s “Simple Man.”

The crowd went crazy.

My dad’s band kicked in behind me.

I shifted my eyes to the right and started to sing that song.

And that song I sang right to Deke. Unlike “Chain Link,” I didn’t take my eyes from him when words flowed through my mouth.

Every word, I gave right to my man.

I didn’t care that twenty thousand people saw. I wanted them to. That’s why I was doing it.

I was proud to share the best way I knew how, through music, the kind of man I had. How much there was of him. How he made less so much more. How he redefined the word “simple” in glorious ways.

Dad’s band rocked it while the darkness in front of me lit with the pinprick lights on cell phones.

And I prayed to God my voice raised to the heavens so my dad would hear each word and truly know just the man who had given me peace.

That said, I knew he was watching over me.

So he already knew.

When the song was over, I pulled my guitar from around my neck and walked sure-footed to the side of the stage. You know, just in case some in the upper decks missed it.

I got down on my knees, put my guitar on its back to the stage and bent way forward.

Because Deke was right there.

His head tipped back, his hand slid into my hair, and I kissed him, long, hard and wet.

I knew pictures were taken. That would never stop.

Even with his long hospitalization and recovery, Deke did not escape the fame his actions settled on his broad shoulders. Mr. T gave his most valiant effort, but with what Deke did, the way Deke looked, the perfection that was him and me, to that day, they still hounded us.

Deke took to fame a lot better than me.

It happened.

And at my side, he just kept being Deke.

When our kiss ended, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

But me and Deke, we just touched noses.

I looked into his eyes and whispered, “Bounty.”

His teeth caught his lower lip and his hand in my hair spasmed.

I pulled away, got up and sauntered with guitar back to the mic.

“Time for Lacey,” I told the crowd, lifted my guitar and felt the wave of love hit me. “Thanks for spending time with me. And more.” I put my hand to my chest. “Thanks for being here for my dad.”

More love blasted over me as, lifting a hand in a wave, carrying my guitar with me, I walked off the stage followed by my dad’s band.

* * * * *

Justice Lonesome with her father’s band doing a rendition of “Simple Man” wouldn’t be the video that Mr. T’s people uploaded from that night on YouTube that got the most hits.

No.

Because the best was yet to come.

* * * * *

I stood backstage, touched up and ready to join everyone else at the end of the concert when we’d all jam to Dad’s “Never Missin’ Home.”

But I was watching with some confusion as the setup for Stella’s set included the stage lights going purple and the stagehands setting up eleven microphone stands up front.

I felt someone join me and looked right to see Joss slide in there.

She never liked to miss anything either so she’d been in VIP.