It was real.
And I’m so far gone, it’s terrifying.
She was always the something I couldn’t name, and now she’s everything I can’t let go.
I’m not supposed to feel this way. We were supposed to keep things light. Be her date. Help her spice up her life. Help me write songs.
Simple. Easy.
But nothing about Izzy’s laugh is simple.
Nothing about the way she leaned into my chest last night, the way her fingers curled into my shirt like she needed me to stay, was easy.
She’s gotten under my skin, and now I’m sitting here, wondering when the hell it all stopped being pretend.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” a voice calls behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. Carter walks across the grass, two beers in hand. His boots kick up little dust clouds with every step.
“I brought peace offerings,” he says, holding one out.
I take it, twist off the cap, and nod toward the other chair. “Thanks.”
He lowers himself into the weathered Adirondack beside mine and holds his hands out to the fire. “Gotta love how it’s still chilly enough to light a fire at night.”
I hum my agreement, sipping slowly. “Everything in Nashville holds the heat. Here, it’s like the second the sun drops, the air remembers it’s got nothing left to give.”
Carter eyes me sideways. “That a new lyric you’re working on or just a weather observation?”
I smirk. “Maybe both.”
We sit in silence for a few beats, firelight licking the edges of our boots, flames crackling in that comforting way that lets a man stay quiet without it feeling like avoidance.
Then Carter says, “It was fun having you out with us all the other day.”
I nod in agreement.
“Izzy seems happy,” Carter says, watching the fire like he’s not interrogating me.
My stomach tenses. I should’ve known this wasn’t just a casual beer.
I keep my gaze on the flames. “Izzy’s always happy.”
Carter considers that, quiet for a beat. “She’s easygoing. I’m not sure it’s the same thing.”
“No?” In my mind, she’s always been a beam of sunshine. Joy wrapped in sarcasm. I never questioned whether it was real.
“She just has always seemed…like someone who puts herself last,” Carter says. “Like she’s the one making sure no one else feels awkward or left out. Classic middle child stuff, I guess. She keeps the mood up, fills the silence, smooths the edges. I suppose that doesn’t mean she isn’t happy. She just always seems more focused on keeping other people comfortable.”
Now that he says it, I can see it. The way she always jumps in with a joke when the room goes quiet. The way she plays mediator. The way she brushes off questions that might get too deep.
“But now that you’re dating,” Carter continues, “she seems like she’s excited about something for her.”
“We’re pretty casual,” I say, knowing even as I say it how untrue it sounds.
He raises his eyebrow. “Really? You sure about that? Because you flying her to Nashville, hanging out at her house all the time, integrating with her friends like it’s the most natural thing in the world—none of that screams casual.”
I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Okay. It’s a little like that. But it didn’t start that way.”
