“I said I’m fine,” I snap. The silence that follows feels louder than the music.
Jake shrugs, stepping back toward his amp. “Alright. Just checking.”
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I try to steady myself. But it’s too much. The empty seats feel like a judgment, a reminder of what we’ve gained and what we lost to get here.
To get her back.
The thought echoes in my mind, and I can’t stop it. She’s not back—not really. She’s here, but it’s not the same. And it might never be, because I’m the one who ruined it.
“I need a minute,” I mutter, stepping away from the mic. I don’t wait for their responses, just head backstage, my footsteps echoing in the quiet emptiness of the stadium.
But even as I put distance between myself and the stage, the ache doesn’t fade. Because no matter how far I run, I can’t escape the truth.
I’m the reason we lost her. I’m the one who fucked it all up. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for that.
The thought claws at me as I push my fingers through my hair, the styling product clinging to my fingers like an accusation. Everything feels tainted—every moment, every decision. Just another reminder of her.
A shuffle of movement catches my attention, and I glance up to see Jake stepping into the shadows with me. He doesn’t sayanything at first, just leans against the wall, arms crossed, his bass strap slung over his shoulder.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” he finally asks, his tone low but not accusing.
I glance at him and then away, letting my head drop to my chest. It’s not really a secret, not between us. “It’s hard to face her every day after everything.”
He nods, lips pressing into a thin line, unspoken guilt settling between us. “Yeah, we all fucked up pretty badly. Crazy how seeing her again brought all of that to light. We really thought we were in the right all those years ago.”
“We really screwed that up.” The words are bitter on my tongue, heavier now with the truth staring me in the face.
Jake lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “No kidding. I mean, we didn’t just screw it up—we obliterated it. The way we handled things... I don’t think I even realized how wrong we were—until now.”
I glance at him, his usually steady expression cracking just enough for me to see the regret he’s been hiding. It’s not like Jake to get this serious, not unless he’s at his breaking point too.
“She was everything,” I admit quietly, the words falling from my lips before I can stop them. “Not just to me—to all of us. And we let our insecurities, our fear, tear her down instead of lifting her up.”
Jake nods, his gaze fixed on the ground. “We thought we were protecting ourselves, our future, by pushing her away. But all we did was destroy what we had. And now?” He shakes his head. “Now, I don’t even know how to be around her without feeling like I’m walking on shards of glass.”
“Same,” I admit, my voice hoarse. The silence between us feels heavy, weighted with years of mistakes and the realization of what we’ve lost.
Jake shifts, pushing off the wall. “The question is, what do we do about it? Keep hiding behind the past? Or try to fix it, even if it’s too late?”
I look at him, the answer twisting in my chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe we don’t start,” he says with a faint, humorless chuckle. “Maybe we just... show her that we’re different now. That we’ve changed. Actions, not words.”
The thought lingers as he gives me a pat on the shoulder and walks back toward the stage. But I stay where I am, staring into the shadows, wondering if anything we do now could ever be enough.
CHAPTER 13
Ashlyn
“It’s all set up,”Shelley says, tapping away on her laptop as she speaks, her tone brisk. “That idea about the music video with the models that you came up with—it’s a go. We’ll start practice tonight at Forest Hills Stadium. The contestants will learn the choreography and style themselves after one of the band members.”
She barely glances up as she continues. “The music video will kick off during their Friday night show and wrap after their Sunday show. We might need some studio time to finish it up, but the guys are onboard.”
I nod, trying to keep up as she lays out the plan, my fingers tightening on the edges of the chair.
“So, be there by four,” she finishes, her focus still fixed on her screen.
“Okay,” I say, though my brain is still piecing together the logistics of her plan.
