"Annabelle sent me an email."
Silence. Then: "And?"
"And she told me she loves me. And that she's not okay. And that she made it too easy for me to leave because she was too busy trying to be perfect."
"Sounds like Annabelle's been doing some thinking."
"Sounds like I'm a complete coward," Raven said.
"Well, yes. But we've established that already." Arty's tone was gentle despite the words. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know. I'm here. I'm working. I'm finally making music again. This is what I came to London for. This is the plan."
"Is it what you want?"
The question stopped her cold.
"I…" Raven pressed her palm against her forehead. "I want both. I want my music career. I want to make this album and tour and do all the things I've been working toward my entire life. But I also want… I want Annabelle. I want to go back to Bankton and keep teaching Jamie guitar and eat biscuits on Annabelle's disgustingly cheerful sofa and listen to her talkabout fundraisers and children's literacy rates and all the things I pretended to find annoying but actually…"
She trailed off.
"Actually what?" Arty prompted.
"Actually made me feel like I belonged somewhere," Raven finished quietly. "For the first time in my life."
"Right. So you want both."
"Yes."
"So why are you acting like you have to choose?"
Raven blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Why are you acting like wanting your career and wanting Annabelle are mutually exclusive? Last I checked, London wasn't on a different planet from Bankton. It's a two-hour drive."
"But the studio time, and the press commitments, and…"
"And you'll have days off. Weeks off, probably, between recording and promotion. You think every musician lives in London full-time?" Arty asked. "Besides, you've spent the last few months proving you can write anywhere. Why does making music suddenly require you to abandon everyone you care about?"
"It doesn't," Raven said slowly. "I just assumed…"
"You assumed that success meant sacrifice. That you couldn't have both. That loving someone meant giving up your dreams or vice versa." Arty's voice was kind but firm. "Raven, you're not in Krimson Khaos anymore. You're not living with your ex-girlfriend and trying to separate your personal life from your professional one. You're solo now. Which means you get to decide what your life looks like."
The words landed with the weight of truth.
"I've been doing it again," Raven said. "Haven't I? Running away from every mess I create."
"Little bit, yeah."
"You're supposed to be more supportive than this."
"I am being supportive. I'm supporting you in recognizing your patterns so you can actually do something different for once." She could hear him moving around, probably back behind the bar. "At some point, you're going to have to see things through instead of bolting the moment it gets complicated."
Raven closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall.
He was right. Of course he was right.
She'd run from foster home to foster home as a kid, always finding a reason to leave before they could send her away. She'd run from relationships, from the band, from anything that required her to be vulnerable or dependent on someone else.
