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They were quiet for a fewout over the water, and Donovan let the easy silence wash over her It was so peaceful here So far away from her everyday crazy life

“So tellher way “What’s your story?”

His voice was low and raspy, and she had to concentrate in order to hear him properly

“My story?”

He nodded “Yes Everyone has a story What’s yours? I know you’re a big time celebrity, but I don’t know much else about you”

“It’s nothing special”

“Humor me”

Donovan hated talking about herself and hesitated for a fewa mile out Maybe it was the ease of Brett’s coical waters of Lake Muskoka Whatever it was, she found herself settling back into her chair and talking

“Well, I grew up in Arkansas at the foot of the Ozarks with randparents Our house was a lovely, restored trailer and yes, you guessed it, we lived in a trailer park Not very original We didn’t have h ht not have been trendy, they were clean”

“No father?”

“Nope” She shrugged “I have vague s, really, and even then sos I was told, not things I actually saw But I do have a clearon the front porch with a beat up Gibson He’d play and sing and toss ar candies”

Donovan paused, chest tight She hadn’t thought about him in forever A man as part of her history A man she’d never really known

“He loved music almost as much as he liked his whisky and that caused a lot of problems He left when I was five and died when I was ten I never really got the story of how he died, but I’m pretty sure he drank himself to death”

“I’ his words

“Don’t be,” she replied “He was a mean drunk Mya broken heart and that changed her I can’t re for athere “How sad is that?” she whispered “She was half alive, and the part that was alive was sad and angry”