Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel right now.
The first leg of my U.S. tour kicked off earlier this week with a sold-out show in Atlanta. It was electric. The kind of night musicians live for. We pulled out all the stops—lights, pyro, a setlist that made the crowd lose their damn minds. My band and I played like we had something to prove, like we had fire in our veins, and when that final note hit, I was riding a high like nothing I’d ever felt before.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Like every struggle, every late night in the studio, every sacrifice had led to this moment.
Until later that night.
When I left for the tour, things with Mae were good. Better than good. She’d told her parents about us, we were talking about me meeting Elsie, and I knew, deep in my gut, I’d fallen hard for her again. Hell, maybe I’d never stopped being in love with her. Maybe I’ve been holding my breath for nine years, waiting for this second chance with her.
But after the show, she texted me:We need to talk.
And the second I saw those words, the high from the concert vanished.
I called her as soon as I got back to the tour bus, my pulse a steady drumbeat of anticipation and dread. And then she said it—words that felt like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air right out of my lungs.
Cody, we need to take a break.
A fucking break?
How do you need a break from someone you’ve been apart from for nearly a decade? From someone you just reconnected with? From someone who has thought about you every single day since the moment you left?
She’s all I can think about—every night, every show.
She’s the one I sing to when I step on stage, the one in my head when the crowd fades and it’s just me lost in the music.
She’s the reason every love song I write will never be about anyone else.
She’s consumed me. My mind, my heart. My every fucking need. I don’t want to take a break from her. I wantall of her.
‘I want you to focus on your tour. It’s just six months and this is a huge deal for your career and brand. I don’t want you to be distracted by what’s blooming between us and as your publicist, I feel like this is the right thing to do,’she’d said to me through the phone.
I’d been so floored by her omission I’d barely been able to respond. I understand where she’s coming from,onlyin the sense of her being a publicist and me not having any breaks between concerts for the first leg of the tour. But that doesn’t mean that she can’t fly out to a concert or two. Not to mention I have a concert in Nashville in two weeks where we’d discussed meeting up with each other and possibly finally introducing me to Elsie.
I decided to let her talk about the “break” during the call, even though I refuse to acknowledge it only because she wasadamant. But that didn’t stop me from boarding a plane today, five days later, heading straight to her. I need—no, Ihaveto—see her face-to-face and talk before my next concert in Charlotte tomorrow night. I need clarity, need to figure out what she’s really trying to say.
I knock softly on her front door, careful not to wake Elsie if she’s home, but not wanting to give Mae the chance to back out and pretend she doesn’t hear me.
“Cody? What are you doing here?” she asks, rubbing her eyes sleepily as she checks the time on her watch.
It’s already ten o’clock at night, and though my manager begged me not to make the flight here, I couldn’t spend any more time apart knowing that she’s questioning what we have. What we’vealwayshad.
“I needed to see you.”
“Is everything alright?” she asks, concern etched on her forehead.
“No.” because it fucking isn’t. You just asked me for a break. Why would I be okay? Why is she okay? “May I come in?” I respond with instead.
She nods and leads me into the back of her home towards her bedroom. “Elsie’s at her friends for a sleep over tonight.”
I nod my head. Good. Because the last thing I want to do right now is wake her up for what I need to say. “I’ve missed you,” I say as I reach for her, pulling her closer to my body and pressing my lips on hers. I know I should tell her I don’t want the break she’s requested, that I don’t understand where this came from or why, but I need to be inside of her first. To show her that what we have doesn't need a pause. I need to know she’s mine despite this break she’s asking for her. And if I can get that confirmation, and she still wants a break, I’ll give it. Just as long as I know at the end of it, she’ll come back to me.
“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers against my mouth, her armssliding around my neck, pulling me in like she’s afraid to let go. See, she doesn’t want this either.
I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist like they belong there, like they’ve always belonged there. I carry her to the bed, laying her down gently, watching the way her body stretches, the way her breath hitches when I peel her pajama shorts down her legs, then tug her top over her head, leaving her naked beneath me.
She’s stunning. Soft, warm, her nipples already tight, begging for my touch. I run my thumb over one, squeezing gently before capturing the other between my lips, sucking firmly, letting my tongue circle and tease the skin.
“Yes,” she moans, arching into me, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
