Page 206 of The Song We Lost

His jaw tightens immediately.

“They’re saying Wild Again doesn’t count as my final album because of all the collaborations.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” he grinds out.

“Apparently not.” The rage comes rushing back immediately. “They want another album, Luke.” I laugh bitterly. “Like somehow everything I already gave them wasn’t enough.”

He stays quiet for a second before setting the guitar carefully aside. “Come here.”

The words come so naturally now. Like we’ve both stopped fighting the pull between us. I move automatically until I’m standing between his knees while he sits on the stool. Luke’s hands settle lightly against my hips, grounding and warm. Mine slid into his hair without thinking. The casual intimacy between us still feels fragile and monumental all at once.

“I hate them,” I whisper again.

Luke nods slowly. “I know.”

“No seriously. I want to burn the entire industry to the ground.”

His mouth twitches slightly.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I remember.”

I look away immediately because he’s right. I almost did.

A few quiet seconds pass before I ask softly, “Why did you stop me?”

Luke’s fingers tighten slightly against my waist when he asks, “At the awards?”

I nod.

His eyes search mine carefully before he answers. “Because that wasn’t you.”

Emotion catches painfully in my throat.

“That was your grief,” he says quietly. “Your anger. Your pain.” His thumb brushes slowly against my hip. “And you had every right to feel all of it.”

I swallow hard. “But?”

“But eventually the grief would’ve settled enough for you to see clearly again.” His voice softens. “And I think destroying everything publicly would’ve hurt you more than it hurt them.”

The honesty in it hits deep because he’s not judging me. He’s protecting me.

Luke tilts his head slightly trying to catch my eyes again. “You know what I think you should do?”

“What?” I ask, almost mesmerized by his dark blue eyes.

“Tell the truth,” he says with a soft smile.

I blink.

He continues softly, “Talk to Rachel. Find out exactly what they’re demanding, exactly what’s left in the contract. Get all of it on paper.”

“And then?”

“Then write the album.”

I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “You cannot seriously be telling me to cooperate with these people.”

“I’m telling you to stop letting them control the narrative,” he replies.