More Than A Feeling, page 19
“Why do you have this?” she asked.
“Because it looks like a promise,” he said. “We kept one today.”
She set the photo on her knee and nodded. “We did.”
He tipped his head toward the stairs. “Dinner at the table, then a list. You can tell me where you want outlets, and I will pretend to have opinions.”
“You always have opinions,” she said.
“I have good ones about you,” he said.
That earned him the simple, quiet smile he liked best on her. He stood and offered his hand. She took it, and they walked down together.
At the bottom, Tony looked up from the map. “You ready for the part where we scare ourselves on purpose?”
“Every day,” Jami said.
“Good,” Tony answered. “Because I have a route that looks like us. It includes our current tour stops, then I've added more.”
Carlene listened as they marked the first five cities in pencil, not ink. No dates, no promises they could not keep. Just a path.
When they finished, she wrote one more line at the top of her pad.
Own it. Build it. Play it.
Then she closed the cover and tucked it under her arm. The barn felt different now. Not bigger. Just truer.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
“Let’s go home,” he echoed, and the day moved with them.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
By late morning, the barn smelled like sawdust and promise. Sunlight cut through the old windows in strips, falling over the cleared corner where Carlene’s office would live. Quinn Kurtz stood with his tool belt slung low on his hips, blueprints rolled under one arm, and that same focused calm he’d always carried.
“Man, this place has good bones,” Quinn said, running a hand over the worn beam that split the loft. “You did right keeping it raw. You planning a full studio expansion or just giving it more polish?”
“A little of both,” Jami said. “We want to build a second control room behind the live space, a glass wall, soundproofing, the works, but keep the barn’s character. Carlene’s office will be up here.”
Carlene came up the stairs, pad in hand, hair caught back, sleeves rolled to her elbows. “Hey, Quinn. You ready to work your magic? I've been so excited about this.”
Jami chuckled. "She's been waking up for the past few weeks, talking about her excitement."
Quinn grinned. “All of the supplies have been delivered, and we're ready to start. It'll be loud the next couple of weeks.”
“It's alright. We're headed out of town on a short tour. Do what you need to do.” Jami said.
Carlene smiled. "But before I leave you to it, can we go over everything one more time?"
Quinn laughed. “Okay, deal. Let’s start with the loft. I believe you said, desk here, shelves on this wall, and you said bathroom above the downstairs one.”
“Right,” Jami said, stepping closer to the window. “We’ll need plumbing brought up and maybe some noise insulation. She’s planning to work through rehearsals, and the last thing she needs is Axel’s kick drum shaking the floor.”
“Appreciated,” Carlene said. “I like to think the world revolves around me when I’m on a call.”
Quinn pulled a pencil from behind his ear and made quick notes. “I’ll bring a crew tomorrow to rough in plumbing and wire outlets. Want the same reclaimed wood for your desk?”
Jami looked to her. “You decide.”
She studied the boards under her feet, then the color of the old beams. “Use something from here. Something that’s already lived a little.”
“Got it,” Quinn wrote everything down, then drew it out on his pad. Looking up at Jami, Quinn grinned. “You ready to go over the recording studio?”
“Yeah,” Jami said. They moved downstairs and to the back of the existing studio. “Glass panel right here.” He tapped the wall where he’d measured several times. “We’ll run wiring along the base and anchor another soundboard. Tony’s handling the equipment list.”
“Understood.” Quinn rolled up the plans. “I'm estimating two and a half weeks for all of this. You'll be available for questions while on tour?”
“Yes,” Carlene said. “And Quinn? The upstairs bathroom, doesn’t need to be fancy. Just functional and quiet.”
He tipped his cap. “You got it, boss.”
When he left, the barn fell into the kind of silence Jami liked best, the kind that hummed with what could happen next.
Carlene moved to the end of the bar near the window, hands on the bar, eyes tracing the sun on the floorboards. “He’s good. I'm terribly excited.”
“He is.” Jami leaned against the beam beside her. “So are you.”
She smiled without turning. “You're saying that because I just negotiated a record label into surrender, made a plan to remodel your barn, and helped to plan a tour.”
“I’m saying it because you built something out of wreckage. Most people can’t do that and still look like this.”
Her laugh was soft. “Like what?”
“Like hope.”
She looked up then, eyes searching his face. “That’s a dangerous word for a man who’s lived this life.”
“Not anymore.”
He reached for her hand. She let him take it, fingers weaving naturally into his. For a moment, the barn, the papers, the plans, all of it disappeared into the quiet between them.
“You know,” he said, voice low, “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
“New album, new tour, new record label,” she said. “Plenty to think about.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He reached into his pocket, and for once, his hands didn’t shake from adrenaline or nerves. He’d done a thousand shows, played to packed stadiums, but this, this was the one stage that mattered.
Her breath caught when she saw the small velvet box. “Jami...”
“Just listen,” he said. “I don’t want to wait for perfect timing. I don’t want to plan a grand gesture with fireworks or headlines. We’ve had enough of both. I want this here, where it started to make sense again.”
He opened the box. The ring was a simple white-gold band, with one diamond cut sharp and bright, catching the light from the loft window.
“When I wrote “Keys”, it was about finding a door worth opening,” he said. “And when I wrote “More Than a Feeling”, it was about realizing you were on the other side of it. You are the fight, the calm, the reason I still believe this life can be real. So, Carlene Matthews, I love you with my whole heart. Will you marry me?”
She blinked fast, the kind of tears that came from shock and certainty colliding. “You’re serious.”
“As the chords I play wrong and the ones I get right.”
Her lips curved, trembling and sure at once. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man who’d let anyone slow you down.”
He grinned. “You didn’t slow me down. You gave me direction.”
She let out a small laugh that cracked right through her composure. “Then yes,” she said. “Yes, Jami, I’ll marry you. And for the record, I love you with my whole heart.”
He exhaled, relief and joy colliding in one laugh that shook his shoulders. Sliding the ring onto her finger, he kissed her knuckles and rested his forehead against hers. “Good. Because I already told Tony.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“He said, ‘About time.’”
She laughed through a half-sob and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stuck with me.”
He kissed her lips, softly. Then, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. They didn’t need music because they already had rhythm.
The barn door creaked open. Tony’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, lovebirds, Quinn forgot his drawings.”
Carlene pressed her forehead to Jami’s chest and groaned. “Timing.”
Jami laughed, still holding her. “Yes. We seem to live from one interruption to the next."
She looked up at him. “No headlines.”
“No headlines,” he promised. “Just heartlines.”
Tony’s footsteps grew louder. “Everything good?”
Jami called back, “Better than good.”
Carlene leaned in, kissed him once, and whispered, “Looks like we just found our encore.”
He smiled into her hair. “Yeah,” he whispered. “And this time, we’re playing it our way.”
Epilogue
The barn smelled of cedar and fresh paint, but beneath it was the same heartbeat that had always lived inside its walls. The floors gleamed now, the wood smooth and warm under bare feet. Quinn and his crew had finished just two weeks ago, leaving behind silence, sawdust, and something close to perfection.
Sunlight spilled through the windows, catching the new glass wall that divided the studio from the recording room. The reflection bent across the room and shimmered on the wide-plank floors where chairs had been arranged in two soft arcs facing the small stage.
Jami stood there now, his guitar slung low, testing a single string. The sound echoed through the barn, clean, grounded, home.
“You’re not supposed to see me yet,” she said from the doorway.
He turned. “You’re not supposed to talk to me yet either.”
She smiled. “Rules were never really our thing.”
The dress wasn’t white; it was cream with lace at the sleeves, the hem brushing just above her boots. Her hair was down, curls tamed only enough to stay out of her eyes. She’d never imagined she’d wear a wedding dress in a barn, but this one felt right. The walls knew their story better than anyone else did.
He crossed the space to her, stopping when he was close enough to see the small tremor in her hands. “You look…” He shook his head. “There’s not a word.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you’ve already used the best ones in songs.”
He chuckled, the kind that reached his eyes. “And you keep proving I didn’t exaggerate a thing.”
The door opened behind her. Maddyn peeked in, bouquet in hand. “Five minutes.”
Carlene nodded. “Thank you.”
When Maddyn left, Jami reached for her hand. “You ready?”
She looked around at the space they’d built, the polished railings, her office window above them, the stage where everything had started. “More than ready.”
The band waited near the front, Tony standing with a folded program that looked suspiciously like a setlist. Sean adjusted his tie. Axel fidgeted with the boutonniere pinned crookedly to his shirt. Livia wiped her eyes before the ceremony even began.
When the music started, it wasn’t a march. It was “Keys”. The soft acoustic version, stripped down to just melody and truth. Maddyn’s voice floated through the air, tender and steady.
Jami took his place by the mic as she walked toward him, the wood floor creaking under each careful step. Every board they’d sanded, every nail Quinn had hammered, seemed to hum beneath her feet.
When she reached him, he smiled, a slow, knowing thing that said we built this.
Tony stepped forward as officiant, grinning. “I never thought I’d be the one talking you two into forever, but here we are.” He glanced at the small crowd. “Keep it short, they said. So here it is, two people who fought the world, found their song, and decided to keep playing it together. Jami, Carlene, do the thing.”
She laughed through the tears that blurred her vision. “That’s it?”
“Simple works,” Tony said.
Jami reached for her hands. “I’ve written a hundred songs,” he said, voice low. “None of them sounds like this moment. You walked into my life when I needed a reason to believe again. You reminded me that real doesn’t need a spotlight; it just needs truth. And you are my truth.”
She tried to breathe past the ache in her chest. “You showed me that independence doesn’t mean being alone,” she said. “That love can exist without chaos, that it can be strong and still be kind. You make the world steady, Jami. You make it home.”
Tony cleared his throat, pretending not to wipe his eye. “Then by the power vested in me by… the internet,” he said, laughter spilling through the room, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Kiss her before someone cries harder than Maddyn.”
Jami pulled her in, kissed her deeply, slow enough to remember it. Applause broke out around them: Sean’s whistle, Axel’s shout, Livia’s laugh through tears.
When they broke apart, she whispered, “You know there’s no going back now.”
“Good,” he said. “I burned the map.”
The band kicked into “More Than a Feeling”, the full version this time, bright and alive. Jami strummed, Sean joined, and soon everyone was clapping, feet tapping on the polished floor that Quinn had promised would “shine like pride.”
Later, when the last notes faded and the crowd drifted toward the food tables set up by the doors, Carlene slipped outside. The night air was cool, and the string of lights Quinn had hung along the porch cast a golden glow across the yard.
She turned when she heard footsteps behind her. Jami stepped out, loosened his tie, and leaned against the railing beside her.
“Nice wedding,” he said.
“I liked the band,” she answered.
“Me too.”
They stood together under the lights, the hum of conversation fading behind them. From inside, someone restarted “Keys” quietly, and the melody floated through the open barn doors.
She turned to him, her hand brushing the ring he’d placed there weeks ago. “We did it.”
He nodded. “Built it. Played it. Owned it.”
“Together.”
He kissed her forehead. “Always.”
Inside, the barn pulsed with laughter and the warmth of everything they’d built, not perfect, but theirs.
Carlene leaned into his side and looked out across the field where the last of the sunset melted into the trees. “You know what comes next?”
He smiled, soft and certain. “Yeah. Whatever we want.”
And for the first time, that felt exactly right.
* * *
Want more Jami & Carlene?
Their story doesn’t end here.
Jami Hart poured his heart into two very personal songs…“Keys” and “More Than A Feeling”…written for the woman who changed everything for him. And Carlene has one more moment she’s been saving just for you… a bonus epilogue that takes their journey one beautiful beat further.
You can get both original songs and the exclusive bonus epilogue free when you join my newsletter.
Sign up and keep the music playing. https://www.pjfiala.com/more-than-a-feeling-bonus-epilogue/
* * *
If you’re not ready to leave Blossom Springs… you don’t have to.
Up next in Blossom Springs…
You’ve seen the lights, the music, and the love that binds this town together. But not every protector stands in the spotlight.
When danger slips quietly into Blossom Springs, a hidden team steps forward. Off the books. Off the radar. All in.
In the Shadows is the first book in the new Blossom Springs: Shadow Ops series, where elite operatives fight threats no one else sees and fall for the one woman they never expected.
Turn the page and discover what happens when love meets the mission… and everything is on the line.
Click here - https://geni.us/ITSEBALL
Enjoy this book? You can make a big difference
Your Review Matters!
As an independent author, I don’t have the big budgets of major publishers for splashy ads or subway posters (not yet, anyway ). But what I have is something far more valuable—amazing readers like you.
Your honest review is one of the most powerful ways to help my books reach other readers. If you enjoyed this story, taking just a few minutes to share your thoughts would mean the world to me. Reviews, even short ones, make an enormous difference.
Click below to leave your review and help others discover More Than A Feeling:
https://geni.us/MTAFAll
Thank you for your support—it means everything!
Also By PJ Fiala
I’m fortunate to be able to do what I love. It’s a blessing.
My list of written works has gotten so long I needed to move it to my website! How’s that for blessed?
Anyway, click the link below to see the list of all of my books.
Thank you so much for reading.
https://www.pjfiala.com/bibliography-pj-fiala/
or scan the QR Code below.
"Scan this QR code to view PJ Fiala’s complete list of published romantic suspense books"
MEET PJ
About the Author
* * *
Writing has always been my dream, but it wasn’t until I found the courage to put pen to paper that my life changed in the most profound way. Creating stories that resonate with readers and bringing to life flawed yet lovable characters brings me endless joy—and I hope my books bring you the same.
* * *
When I’m not writing, you’ll likely find me enjoying time with my family or hitting the open road with my husband, Gene. We’re avid bikers who love exploring new destinations, meeting fascinating people, and soaking in the beauty of this incredible country.
* * *
Coming from a proud family of veterans—including my grandfather, father, brother, two sons, and daughter-in-law—I have a deep appreciation for service and the sacrifices that protect our freedoms. Their dedication inspires me every day, and I’m honored to share stories that celebrate resilience, love, and the American spirit.
