Page 204 of The Song We Lost

“Therapy,” I admit honestly. “And Rachel.”

Cole looks surprised by the second part.

“She showed up when I finally admitted I needed help.” I stare out toward the horizon quietly. “And once I said it out loud… people kept showing up.”

The sky deepens slowly toward dusk.

“You feel like you’re drowning,” I say quietly, “you tell somebody. Any of us. We’re here.”

Cole wipes at his face roughly.

“But don’t ever think there’s some timeline for being okay.”

Movement near the house catches my attention then. Rachel’s SUV pulling down the driveway.

Cole notices too, asking, “What was that about?”

I watch the taillights disappear slowly down the mountain road.

“I don’t think it’s anything good,” I admit.

Because Nashville almost ruined me once already and something tells me it was circling again.

I take a deep centering breath and I realize something. For the first time in my life I don’t want to chase, I am not looking for more… I know exactly where home is and I will be wherever she is.

chapter 51

bailey

. . .

Ihad been feeling slightly anxious since Rachel was here last, she told me she thought my label was up to something after our performance at the awards show. So when I see her name flash across my phone, I brace myself. The second I answer the phone her sigh crackles through the speaker and my stomach drops immediately.

“What happened?”

“Your label found a loophole.”

I close my eyes briefly and lean harder against the kitchen counter while Noah and Thomas argue over barbecue sauce outside on the deck.

“What kind of loophole?”

Rachel hesitates just long enough for dread to crawl all the way up my spine. “Because Wild Again was categorized as a collaborative project due to the percentage of featured artists, co-writing and co-production involvement…” She exhales sharply. “They’re claiming it doesn’t fulfill your final solo album obligation.”

I actually laugh, not because it’s funny. Because I am so fucking exhausted I don’t know what else to do anymore.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

After everything I gave them, everything they took from me and then everything they pushed me through after Sadie died. And it still isn’t enough.

“They want another album,” Rachel says quietly. “One more full record and then you’re free.”

Free. The word feels ugly now. Like something people sell instead of something real.

I drag a hand over my face trying to hold onto my temper.

“I hate them.”