Page 125 of The Song We Lost

By the last line we’re both laughing. The track fades out and silence hangs for a second.

Then Tim’s voice bursts through the speakers. “Holy shit.”

Cory whistles and Rhett points at the glass, demanding, “That giggle better stay. And I want those little hip wiggles in the music video.”

Jackson just smiles. “I told you,” he says.

And for a moment, standing in a candlelit studio with music still humming in the air, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Light.

chapter 29

bailey

. . .

Cory and Tim are in the control room arguing about a mix while Rhett leans back in one of the armchairs with his boots crossed at the ankle, lazily strumming a guitar that doesn’t belong to him. Jackson is scribbling something into a notebook and Sadie is curled into the couch under a blanket, half listening, half daydreaming the way she has been lately.

Noah stands beside the coffee machine pretending he understands the difference between whatever Cory and Tim are arguing about. Cole promised baked goods from a bakery in town and should be back any minute.

Rhett plucks another chord, sitting across from me in the recording room.

“Serious question,” he says suddenly.

I glance up. “Should I be worried?”

He grins. “Why haven’t you released any of your old songs?”

Jackson looks up from his notebook.

“The ones you wrote before the first album,” Rhett adds. “Or the ones with Luke.”

I keep my fingers moving slowly over the guitar strings resting in my lap, feeling like I need to do something with my hands. “They weren’t meant for the world,” I say simply.

Rhett tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

I shrug lightly. “Some things I wanted to keep for myself. When I signed my contract, a stipulation I had added in was thatthey couldn’t force me to record anything I wrote prior to the contract. I wrote everything new.”

Rhett watches me for another second, then something clicks behind his eyes. “What about the one you sang at Ms. Sadie’s wedding?”

My fingers pause.

Rhett grins suddenly. “Oh… by the way, congratulations,” he adds toward Sadie.

She laughs softly. “Thank you.”

The room has gone very quiet now.

I stare down at the guitar in my hands. “That song…” I say slowly. My throat tightens slightly. “That song was written for him.” I glance toward the floor, adding, “I never wanted to sell it.”

Never wanted it to become something people streamed between workouts or played in grocery stores. Some things shouldn’t belong to strangers.

Jackson closes his notebook, asking, “Can you sing it for us?”

The question is gentle, but I hesitate. The wound is still raw. Still new. But something has shifted in me.

I take a breath. “Okay.”