“Yes, please.”She didn’t look up.The inbox had multiplied while they watched Vivian posture.
Grant’s email sat at the top.
Breach notice served.Confirming receipt by Summit’s counsel.Drafting a cease and desist for further defamation.
She exhaled.One brick set.
Tony leaned an elbow on the bar.“You need anything from me?”
“I need the original touring timeline and your notes from those early meetings.”She met his eyes.“The ones before Summit got involved.”
He nodded.“On my drive.Give me five.”
She opened a clean doc, titled itNarrative Anchor, and started bulleting what she knew fans felt when they watched the band.Connection.Work ethic.The way they took care of people in a room, not just a crowd.She wrote quickly, trimming every sentence until it read simple and true.
Footsteps echoed on the old wooden floorboards.Jami slid onto the stool beside her, a to-go carton balanced in one hand.“Egg sandwiches.You ignored breakfast.”
She set her fingers on the warm lid.“You noticed.”
His brows rose, and that grin appeared."I did."
She tilted the carton open and took a bite.“Grant served the notice.Next one goes in an hour.”
“Good.”He studied her face.“You okay to drive the quiet plan?Keep it steady, show the work, nothing reactive.”
“That’s the only plan that holds.”She reached across and smoothed the crease between his brows with her thumb.“You go make music.Let me handle the noise.”
He caught her hand and pressed it to his mouth, just once.“I like us as a team.”
Something inside her loosened.She took another bite so she wouldn’t say too much too fast.
Sean’s laugh floated out from the studio.“Hit that again.”
Jami glanced toward the door, the pull obvious.“Come in when you want.Or stay out here and boss us with love.”
“Tempting.”She nodded at his guitar calluses, rough and familiar.“Go before I try to keep you.”
He stood, but lingered.“About the house.”
Her stomach dipped.“Jami.”
“I am not rushing you.I am staking a claim on my life.”His tone remained quiet.“You can eventually go, and I will still cook you dinner and try to meet up with you on the road.But I want you there.With me.”
She stared at his chest rather than his eyes, because it felt safer.“I forgot what home feels like with a person in it.”
“Come remember.”He brushed two fingers under her chin, not lifting it, just offering.Then he left her with the sandwich and the ache.
Tony reappeared with a flash drive.“Everything from pre-Summit to the first handshake with them.”
She slid it into her laptop.“You’re a saint.”
“I’m practical.”He checked the studio window.“They’re already building something in there.”
“Good.”She pulled up file after file, skimming dates, screen-shotting calendar entries, dropping them into a proof folder.“We will not argue online.We’ll just show the timeline.Fans aren’t dumb.”
“Agreed.”He hesitated.“You eating?”
“Yes.Jami fed me.”
