Page 20 of The Song We Lost

It was electric. Exhilarating. Familiar.

Us.

Then the song ended.

And the fight started the second we were offstage.

“You stole my moment,” he snapped.

“I didn’t ask for that,” I said, stunned.

“What did you think would happen?” he fired back.

That was the first time I realized it, my success no longer inspired him; it threatened him.

The memory fades, leaving the present sharper in its place.

I’m not trying to take anything from you…

I just miss you.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears.

I set my phone down.

For the first time, I don’t pick it back up.

I think of Sadie. Of her dress. Of the wedding countdown taped to her mirror. Of the life waiting for me back home.

I didn’t steal his show. I reminded him of what we used to be, and he doesn’t want that anymore.

I stop offering, stop bending. I stop trying to meet him halfway.

Because halfway only works when both people are walking toward each other, and I’ve been walking alone for a long time now.

chapter 8

luke

. . .

Iknow I’ve fucked up. That’s the thing that won’t leave me alone, not the guilt exactly, but the certainty of it. The way it sits in my chest like a weight I can’t shift, no matter how fast I move.

Bailey said the wordsdivorce lawyersand my world tilted.

I promised her I’d fix it. I promised her I’d do better. I meant it, God, I meant it, even if I still don’t know how to show it the right way.

Everything feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

Dave pitched the co-tour like it was a lifeline. A handful of small but rising acts, all under the same management umbrella. Rotating openers, shared headliners and built-in buzz. A short run with a big payoff.

“It’s smart,” he’d said. “You get visibility without being tied to anyone else’s name.”

That part mattered more than I wanted to admit. I told myself I’d talk to Bailey first. I didn’t. Because every time I thought about explaining it, my chest tightened with panic. Because what if she heard it as me choosing something else over her again?

I couldn’t afford another fight. So, I show up at her venue with the group of artists and my band, when I know she is already on the stage, our buses pulling in one after another. I know her schedule well enough to time it. I want to surprise her,show her I’m trying, that I’m still here. She needs to know I love her, that I am making an effort.

When I see her across the space, my heart lifts. For half a second, everything feels possible. Then I see her expression change. It's not anger, or jealousy, it's something quieter... something sadder. One of the girls from the tour, bright, green, excited, barely able to contain herself, is standing close to me, practically glued to my arm. I don’t even notice until golden eyes flick there and stay.