Page 127 of The Song We Lost

I’m already on my way.”

I feel all eyes on me, but I can’t look at anyone. So I close my eyes and picture ones that are the darkest blue. I sing through the pain, trying to clog my throat. I sing to the boy who willalways hold a piece of my heart no matter where this life takes us.

“Maybe love is just that simple

Maybe hearts just understand

You don’t have to promise forever

When my forever’s in your hands.”

I keep my eyes closed and let the words pour out of me. When the final chord fades, the room stays quiet for a moment. I open my eyes when I hear a sniffle and see Sadie wiping under her eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“Oh, Bailey,” she says softly. “I think you should release it.”

I shake my head immediately. Before the idea can settle.

Jackson is quiet for a moment. Then he leans back in his chair, saying, “No.”

Everyone looks at him. He shrugs slightly. “Some things we keep close.” He taps his chest and then his eyes meet mine briefly. “Keep that one for you, Bailey.”

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding and smile

And just like that…

October disappears.

One session turns into another.

Strangers become family.

Days blur into guitars and cold hands wrapped around hot drinks and notebooks full of half-written lyrics for future collaborations.

Morning sunlight spilling through the studio windows.

Late nights when the only light comes from the control board and the moon hanging over the orchard.

Rhett and I shape his song into something reckless and electric.

Jackson pushes harmonies until the hair on my arms stands up.

Gary and Cory argue about drum tones like it’s life or death.

Sadie shows up whenever she can. Curled into the big armchair with a blanket and tea. Her eyes bright. Her hands resting over the curve of her stomach that has been slowly growing.

Sometimes she falls asleep halfway through a session, or requests songs that we won’t record but she wants to hear and sometimes she just sits there smiling like she’s memorizing every second.

Between recording days we still have bonfires.

Guitars passed around the circle.

Songs that never make it onto the album.

Cole plays more than he admits he can.

Noah sings louder than I have ever heard him before.

And sometimes Sadie sings along softly, her voice carried away by the wind moving through the trees.She coaxes me to sing old songs I am not sure I am ready to, saying, “Come on, Bailey. Sing for me!”