“Independent?”
“Think of us as a less attractive foursome version of Taylor Swift. Complete creative control. We decide when we record, where we record, if we tour, and for how long.” Excitement bleeds into my voice despite my attempt to stay calm. “For the first time in our adult lives, we get to have actual control over our schedules. We can build our lives around the music instead of the other way around.”
I watch hope bloom in Taylen’s eyes, tentative and beautiful. “So when you said you’re staying…”
“I meant it.” I cup his face, needing him to feel the truth in my touch as much as hear it in my words. “I’m expanding the studio here. We can record in Vermont. If we tour, it’ll be shorter runs with real breaks in between. And you know what the best part is?” My smile grows despite myself. “We don’t need permission from anyone to make those decisions anymore. The only partnership we have with the recording label is for distribution.”
He closes his eyes, and I can practically see the fear draining from his body. When he opens them, I see something else. “Taylor Swift may be the boss, but you’re way more attractive. And you’re mine.”
I laugh. “About that mold…”
His cheeks flood with color. “Forget I said that.”
“Absolutely not.” I can’t help laughing, the tension of the last few minutes finally breaking. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Shut up,” Taylen mutters, but he’s smiling now, his body relaxing into mine in a way that makes everything feel right again.
“I love you, Taylen Howard,” I tell him, pouring every bit of what I feel into those words. “And I’m not going anywhere without you. Not for recording, not for tours, not for anything. We figure this out together, okay?”
His response comes in the form of a desperate “Thank fuck” before his mouth finds mine with an intensity that steals all the air from my lungs. The kiss quickly turns hungrier as his hands tangle in my hair. My grip tightens on his waist as I walk us backward until his back meets the workbench with a soft thud.
“Sorry,” I manage when we break for air, though his laugh suggests he doesn’t mind the rough treatment. “Got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize,” he tells me, pulling me closer until no space remains between our bodies. “I like it when you get carried away.”
My hands slide lower, finding the gap between his shirt and jeans.
“Hmm, Bastian…”
“We…should stop,” I manage, even when my mouth continues trailing kisses down his neck. His hands clench against my shoulders as I find a particularly sensitive spot.
“Probably,” he agrees, but he hooks his leg around mine to keep me close. “Definitely. Any second now.” But neither of us moves.
It’s Gouta who finally breaks the spell, her imperious bleat making us both jump slightly. She stands a few feet away with an expression that clearly conveys her disapproval of our behavior in her domain.
“Come on,” I tell him, taking his hand in mine. “I have something I want to show you.”
His confusion is evident as I guide him across the property toward the studio, but he follows without protest.
Inside, I lead him to the couch, watching as he settles into the worn leather.
My acoustic guitar waits in its usual spot. I grab it, feeling the familiar weight settle against my body as I position myself on the couch beside him.
“Bastian, what?—”
“Just listen, okay?” I interrupt gently, my fingers finding the opening chords to a song he’s probably heard a thousand times. Our biggest hit, the one that plays on every radio station, the one that made us household names.
But as I begin to play, I change the words. Keep the melody that millions know by heart, but replace the lyrics with something I’ve never shared with anyone.
“Winter lights reflecting in your eyes,” I sing softly, watching his face as recognition dawns that this isn’t the version he knows. “Vermont snow falling like confetti from the sky, and I’m finally home where I’m meant to be. Right here beside you is where I want to stay.”
His breath catches, his eyes widening as he processes what I’m doing.
“No more running from what I feel inside, no more hiding from the truth I’ve tried to fight. You’re my anchor, you’re my home, you’re everything I need. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise you, I swear it’s true.”
I continue through the chorus, transforming our band’s anthem about life on the road into a declaration of everything I feel for the man sitting beside me. Every chord progression filled with the promises I’m making, every word chosen specifically for him.
The melody shifts as I continue.
