“I never said you weren’t.” I squint, drinking in her micro expressions, her cues. She’s always making offhanded comments that belittle her worth. Thinking she’s too much. Worried she’s not enough. Apologizing for everything. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“You look like you just had your heart ripped out.”
She shakes her head, glancing at the patio door like she’s waiting for someone to barrel through it. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“With what? Music?”
“Everything. My whole life.” She’s rattled, shaking from head to toe. “I’m exhausted. Wasting my days sweating over hot stoves and forcing smiles for customers. This is the only part of the day I look forward to. And that’s sad, Chase. It’s pathetic. And then he’s always…” Her gaze drops, voice fading. Both arms fall to her sides as she deflates. “He doesn’t understand it.”
I frown, stepping closer. “Who? Your boyfriend?”
Alex.
The guy Tag seems to loathe and Annie seems to love.
I can’t shake the memory of him at the restaurant. Of him, with her.
Hard. Overbearing. Emanating control.
She doesn’t talk about him much, but she’s often on her phone, texting, looking stressed. Can’t imagine he appreciates her late-night getaways.
The thought has me taking a step back.
“Yeah,” she whispers, the word wrung out with defeat. “He thinks this is a waste of time. The music, the writing.” Her attention flits to the notebook discarded on the deck. “He says I should focus on what actually matters.”
“And what actually matters?”
“Paying bills, work, thinking about the future. Growing up.” A small laugh scrapes past her throat, but there’s no humor in it. “He doesn’t mean it like that. Not really. He just…worries, I guess. About stability. About us. And I get it, I do. I can’t live off late-night jam sessions on my brother’s deck.”
“No,” I agree. “But you shouldn’t have to pick one or the other.”
She glances up.
“Work and stability matter, but so does having something that makes you feel alive. It’s not about choosing. It’s about balance.”
Her hands ball at her sides. “He doesn’t see it that way.”
“But do you?”
She presses her lips together, jaw shifting like she wants to say something but isn’t sure she should.
I watch her for a moment before exhaling through my nose. “Look, all I’m saying is your life isn’t just what happens in the daylight, or in the nine-to-five grind. It’s this too. The things that make youwantto keep going. You showed me that. Hell, it’s why I’m here.”
Her eyes flutter closed, chest inflating, deflating.
Then her face completely crumples. A brittle crack in the sunny façade she always wears.
It catches me off guard, stilling me for a beat. But instinct overrides hesitation, and I step forward, bridging the space between us.
My arms lift—slow, unsure—before I carefully pull her in.
She doesn’t think twice. Just folds into me like it’s second nature.
We’ve never hugged before. Hardly even touched.
I still remember the last time I comforted someone with a hug.
