It’s the picture. The one from the rooftop party. Me. Smiling. Perfect teeth. Easy charm. Hailey with her arm looped through mine, like we’re a thing.
Fuck. If you don’t look at my face, it looks like we could be together.
But I remember that smile. I know exactly how fake it was. Because I could feel the edges of it cracking even as the flash went off.
I stare at the image for a long time.
Then I airdrop it to my phone, open the text thread with Izzy, and send it.
Me
THIS is what fake looks like. Not what we had. Certainly not what we have now.
I picture her seeing this. Studying my face. Recognizing the lack of true joy there. Knowing that we’re real.
I stare at the screen for a full minute, waiting for the little “typing” bubbles to appear.
They don’t.
Of course they don’t. She’s at her sister’s wedding. She shouldn’t be texting me.
Andre sits across from me. “You okay?”
I sigh, rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. “I know she said she believed me when I said I’m coming back, but it feels like she’s pulling away. Like she’s putting distance between us in case I don’t.”
“Are you?”
I don’t answer him. I don’t have to.
Because that’s the thing—I was always coming back.
I just didn’t realize until now that maybe I left too much uncertainty behind when I walked away.
I stand, grabbing my phone, and pace.
There’s one person who can fix this contract mess. One person who knows every legal inch of my deal and can tell me how screwed I’ll be if I walk.
I hit Henry’s name and dial, even though I know it’s the middle of the night.
He answers on the second ring. “This better be a medical emergency or a record-breaking confession.”
“I need to push back my recording dates.”
There’s a long pause.
“Why is everything a thing with you these days? We’ve been together since you were eighteen and playing gigs every nightin Nashville, hoping someone would discover you. You’ve never been this needy.”
“I’m going home—to Wild Bluffs. I want to record this album, but I can’t start on Monday. I can’t start next week. Shit, if things are as bad as I’m afraid they are, I might not be able to start this month. And if that means I lose this label, then fine. Let them have the songs. Let them keep the empire. I thought those songs were pieces of my heart, and maybe they are, butsheismy soul.”
I sit, my pulse throbbing at the base of my neck.
“She’s it. She’s everything. And I’m not letting her get away because I didn’t fight hard enough to make her believe in us.”
Henry is silent for a beat. Then… “Finally.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’ve been playing defense for years, Jaxon. About time you did something messy and honest and…real. Go get her.”
