I hesitate, trying to find the right words. Ones that don’t sound like insecurity. Or worse, like I’m trying to cause drama.
“Did I upset your sister?”
Sam shifts beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. “What do you mean?”
I turn to face him. “It’s just… she’s been different. Almost distant. Tonight at dinner, she barely looked at me. Earlier, she jabbed me with her elbow when we were doing dishes. Little things like that.”
He frowns, brows pulling together. “That doesn’t sound like Phern.”
“I know.” I sit up slightly, wrapping the sheet around me. “That’s why I’m asking. I don’t know if she’s mad that I’m still here, or if it’s something else. I just—I don’t want to be in the middle of anything.”
Sam sighs and runs a hand over his face. “She’s always been protective. Especially after Gwen and I split.” He looks at me, eyes softening. “But she’s not mean, Charlie. If she’s acting like that, it’s not about you.”
“Feels like it is.”
He reaches out, his palm cupping the back of my neck. “You want me to talk to her?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. I just wanted to be honest with you. I don’t want what we have to make things harder for you.”
His thumb brushes along my jaw. “What we have is ours, Charlie. No one’s gonna shake that. Not even Phern.”
The conviction in his voice is steady, sure. But still thatcold flicker lingers in my chest. Because something has changed. And I don’t think it’s just Phern being protective.
“Speaking of making things harder on us,” Sam says, voice low, “the label wants me to fly out to Nashville. They want a demo of the song I played you.”
He pauses, like he’s waiting to see how that lands before adding, “I’ve got a few other ideas brewing, and they’re willing to overlook the missed concerts if I can give them a record.”
I sit up straighter, pulling the sheet around me. “Wow. That’s a big deal.”
“Yeah.” He leans back against the headboard, fingers laced across his stomach, staring at the ceiling. “It should feel good. I should be excited.”
“How do you feel about it?”
He hesitates, then exhales hard through his nose. “Torn.”
His voice is rough with the weight of it.
“Part of me is scared that when I get in the studio it’ll all go away. That the words’ll dry up, the melody’ll vanish, and I’ll realize that song only came out of me because of you. Because of this.”
I swallow, throat tightening.
“And the other half?” I whisper.
He turns his head toward me, his gaze solemn.
“The other half’s scared this’ll be my best record yet. That it’ll take off. And the label will want a tour. And I’ll be right back in that place where I’m burning myself down one city at a time.” His hand finds mine beneath the sheet. “I don’t want to lose this. You. The ranch. Peace.”
There it is. The truth at the center of him. The man with a voice the world wants and a heart that only sings here. With me.
I lift our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
“I know,” he says, but the tension still hums in his shoulders.
“You don’t have to go back to who you were, Sam. You get to choose who you are now. Who you want to be.”
He looks at me like I just handed him a map out of the dark. And maybe I did. Because maybe this time he won’t have to choose between the music and his life. Maybe this time, they can finally belong to the same future.
“I love you, darlin’,” he says, pulling me close.
