Fireflies and Magnolias by Ava Miles

grave as he approached it. Today was the anniversary of that horrible day. They came every year, though by design, she arrived early and he left late. They honored the need to face this day together as well as the need for some time alone to say their piece.
    The wind tugged at his mama’s red hair as she wiped tears from her shadowed brown eyes. Her usual flair and color always faded like an old photograph here. This was the only place he’d ever seen her cry, and he respected that. As a boy, he’d tried to save his tears for this place too, but some nights the pain had been so bad he’d lain awake for hours in his twin bed.
    His mama had taken everything she’d learned as Jimmy Ray’s wife and convinced other country stars to let her be their manager. For the past six years, she’d been Rye’s. Now she was months away from retiring and turning the reins over to him. He could have become a manager in his own right years ago, but he liked working with his mama. And he loved working with his best friend. He’d always figured if it ain’t broke…
    Walking toward the grave had grown easier over the years. The first visits had been so hard. He used to beg his mama to let him stay in the car, but she would never allow it.
    Georgia was tough, forged in steel by trauma, and she’d raised him to be the same way.
    “Hey, honey,” she said when he reached her side and took her hand.
    “Hey, Mama,” he said into the quiet of the cemetery.
    Clayton could feel himself settling into the place inside himself that was still empty from this loss. His memories of his daddy weren’t as vivid as they used to be, but the photos and videos his mama had kept of their family allowed some remembrance. Just never enough.
    “It always does my heart good to see so many people still bring him flowers,” she said, squeezing his hand and then releasing it.
    After rummaging in her bag, she produced the silver flask his daddy had always drunk from before or after a concert when the thirst drew him. They always drank his daddy’s favorite bourbon here in honor of him. Mama took a long draw from the flask, and the initials JRC flashed as sun and silver met. When she handed it to him, he drank deep.
    “I’ve always figured, if anyone could sweet-talk God into having a drink in heaven, it would be your daddy. That man could sweet-talk anyone into anything.”
    Even though she’d said it before, a smile tugged at his mouth. “He sweet-talked you into marrying him, after all.”
    “Lord knows, my mama thought it was a wild idea, hooking up with a honky tonk singer. She never thought we’d have a pot to piss in. Of course, she ate those words, didn’t she?”
    They weren’t close to her family, and Daddy’s had been…troubled at best. When it came down to it, there were only the two of them. But that was okay—she had always been more than enough for him growing up. Along the way, he’d found Rye and J.P., the brothers he’d always wished for growing up, the ones he’d dreamed he would have had if his daddy hadn’t died. His life was better than most.
    “Are you sure you still want to move to Florida?” he asked her, hoping she would reverse her decision. How was he supposed to carry on without her? “Daddy would hate for you to get all sunburned and freckled.”
    She laughed. “I’ll buy plenty of sunscreen, don’t you worry none. Clayton, your daddy would understand why I have to leave Nashville if I’m not going to work anymore. I love this business too much to be around it without being in it. Your daddy gave my love for country music to me, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. The only thing I’m more grateful for is you, son.”
    “Oh, Mama,” he said in a hoarse voice and pulled her in for a hug.
    “This is the only place you and I ever allow sentimentality, so I might as well keep going. You and me have worked a spell. Other than your time in college and law school, we’ve never really been apart. It’s