"I understand," Annabelle finally said, and there was that brightness trying to creep back into her voice, that determined optimism she wore like armor. "I'm glad you found your music again. That's what matters."
"Annabelle…"
"Could we…" She stopped, swallowed. "Could we try long distance? I know you'll be busy, but we could make it work. FaceTime and visits and—"
"I don't think that would work." The words came out harsher than Raven intended, and she watched Annabelle flinch. "I'm going to be touring, recording, doing press. I'll be gone for months at a time. It's not fair to either of us to pretend…"
"Right." Annabelle's voice was small now. "Right, of course. I understand."
But she didn't understand. How could she? Raven could barely understand it herself.
She was terrified. That was the truth of it. Terrified that if she tried this, triedthem,she'd fuck it up the way she fucked everything up. That she'd get lost in the chaos of touring and recording and forget to call. That Annabelle would realize she wasn't worth the trouble of waiting for. That this bright, lovely woman would end up just another casualty of Raven's inability to keep anything good in her life.
Better to end it now. Cleanly. Before it could turn into something uglier.
"I'm glad you found your music again," Annabelle repeated, and there were tears on her cheeks now, though she was still smiling. Still trying so fucking hard to be okay. "That's what's important. That's what you came here for."
Raven wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her close and sayno, that's not all I found here.Wanted to tell herthat somewhere between the terrible livestream and the guitar lessons and the middle-of-the-night confessions, Bankton had stopped being a hiding place and started being something else entirely.
But the words stuck in her throat.
"Take care of yourself," she managed instead.
Then she turned and walked out before she could change her mind.
THE COTTAGE FELT emptier than it had before. Which was ridiculous, because it was exactly the same as it had been twenty minutes ago. Same furniture, same guitars leaning against the walls, same notebooks scattered across every surface.
But something had changed.
Raven sat down heavily on the sofa and stared at nothing.
She'd gotten what she came for. Her music was back. Songs were flowing again, melodies arriving in the middle of the night, lyrics forming faster than she could write them down. The creative well that had been bone-dry for months was full again, overflowing.
She should feel triumphant. Relieved. Ready to take on London and the label and whatever came next.
Instead, she felt like she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.
But she couldn't figure out how to fix it. Couldn't figure out what she'd even say if she went back over there right now.Sorry, changed my mind, let's give this thing between us a shot even though I'm about to leave and I'm terrible at relationships and I'll probably let you down within a month.
Yeah. That would go great.
Outside, through the window, she could see more photographers gathering. Soon there would be news vans. More journalists knocking on doors, asking invasive questions,disturbing the peace of this village that had been kind enough to take her in.
She'd destroyed this place. Turned something charming and peaceful into a circus.
All because she'd been selfish enough to think she could have this. Could have quiet and music and Annabelle's bright smile and not pay a price for any of it.
Raven picked up her guitar, fingers finding the opening chords of the song she'd written. The one about finding home in unexpected places. About sunshine breaking through the gray.
The one she'd never be able to record.
Her phone buzzed. Claire again, asking for an answer.
Raven typed back:I'm in. Start the paperwork.
Then she set the phone down and kept playing, even though every note felt like goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
