Livia hugged her quickly and whispered, “You’ve got this,” then melted back like she hadn’t been there.
Jami stepped out from the shadow of a palm, hands in his pockets, sleeves pushed to his forearms.He looked like a man who could give the internet what it wanted and keep most of himself anyway.
“You ready?”he asked.
“No,” she said, then smiled a little because honesty had become a habit around him.“Yes.”
They fell into step, not touching, not awkward.They talked about nothing that would look like everything.The ridiculous price of dock slip rentals.The best place for key lime pie.The boat with the name painted crooked for charm.
Halfway down the planks, he looked out at the water and said, quietly enough it wouldn’t carry, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and meant it.
The stringer did his job.No flash.No shouted name.Just the faint click of a shutter, the way you hear a watch in a quiet room.A couple on a bench lifted their heads and smiled, and then went back to their conversation because this was Blossom Springs, and people knew how to be kind.
At the turn by the bar, Jami reached for her hand the way a man would if he were careful with the person he was walking with.He didn’t lace their fingers.He let their palms rest, light pressure, a promise of nothing more than this moment.It lasted four steps, then he let go and pointed toward a pelican perched on a piling like a bored old king.
She laughed without meaning to.He did too.
They hit the exit time like they’d trained for it.Separate cars.A small wave as if they were normal and going on with their lives.Tony texted a single word thirty seconds later.
Clean.
Back at the barn, the team regrouped without noise.Carlene uploaded the shot to the band’s account with a caption that refused to fuss.
Evening on the water.
No tags.No hearts.No names.
She sent the image to the label’s digital head, then set the phone down and looked at Jami across the stage.He was looking back at her with a relief she felt in her own bones and a complication she didn’t name.
The comments rolled in slowly and calmly.The worst accounts had nothing to grab.The kind ones did what they did.The earlier segment kept floating, but it didn’t find a hard edge to catch.
Livia stepped up beside Carlene and set a takeout container near her elbow.“Margo sent dinner with a note,” she said.“Eat.Sleep.Don’t read everything.”
“Bossy,” Carlene said, grateful.
“Experienced,” Livia said.
The barn quieted like a big animal settling for the night.Axel put his sticks away.Sean clicked Sunday’s case closed and stuck the Post-it note chord change on the outside so he wouldn’t forget.Tony checked three locks he’d checked every night.
Carlene sat for a minute with her hands open in her lap, letting the adrenaline drain.
Jami crossed the room and stopped at the edge of the stage.“You okay?”he asked softly.
“I think so.”
“We did the hard thing.You did the harder thing.”
She shook her head.“We did the necessary thing.That’s my job.”
He didn’t argue.“Thank you,” he said again.
She nodded, then stood.“Tomorrow, we go back to the song.”
“Yeah,” he said.“Tomorrow’s music.”
She picked up her bag and the takeout box and headed for the door.Outside, the night felt like a steadying hand on her back.She didn’t know yet if she’d sleep.She didn’t know what the morning shows would do with a quiet photo and no gossip bones to chew.
