Page 180 of The Song We Lost

I already knew that. And judging by the look on Bailey’s face…So did she.

The days leading up to the award show felt like standing beside a forest fire waiting for the wind to change direction. Baileystopped sleeping. Cole messaged me one night worried and I found her in the studio with red swollen eyes and another page full of lyrics spread across the piano.

These weren’t Bailey Brooks lyrics.

Grief sharpened her into something almost unrecognizable sometimes. I watched her pour everything she was feeling into music so raw it made my chest ache. She was funneling years of anger, betrayal and loss into her music. She was taking aim at the industry, social media, me, herself… all of it.

And fuck… it was good.

That was the hard part. Bailey had always written from emotion, but this felt different. Like she stopped caring whether the songs were beautiful and started focusing on making them hurt.

One afternoon I walked into the studio to find crumpled papers scattered across the floor while Bailey sat at the piano staring into space.

Noah leaned against the sound booth wall looking wrecked.

Bailey played the final chord again.

It was slow and haunting.

Then she sang softly,

“You taught the world to say my name

Then left me bleeding for the fame…”

Silence swallowed the room afterward.

Noah blew out a breath. “Jesus.”

Bailey didn’t react. It was like she didn’t see him there or didn’t care who was around to see the destruction. She grabbed another sheet of paper and attacked another song. Ripped open another wound.

I moved toward her carefully. “Bai…”

Her eyes snapped toward me instantly. Her usually warm, caring eyes were burning with an anger I had never seen in her before.

“They want a performance?” she asked coldly. “Fine.”

Noah straightened immediately. “Bailey,” he warned quietly.

“No.” She stood abruptly from the piano bench. “They announced me publicly without asking. They want their fucking performance? They want their dancing monkey? They’ll get one.”

Every instinct in my body screamed this was headed somewhere dangerous.

“What are you planning?” I asked.

Bailey laughed once without humor. “Funny thing is… they never specified what songs I had to sing.”

Noah slowly approached her, like she was a wild animal. “Bai…”

“They want Bailey Brooks?” she snapped. “They want their perfect little industry darling smiling while they cash checks off my grief?”

Her voice cracked hard enough my chest physically hurt.

Then quieter, “They should’ve left me alone.”

Noah made his way into the room with her. “Nobody is saying you can’t be angry.”

“I am furious,” Bailey whispered.