Page 214 of The Song We Lost

I'm free.

The realization steals my breath. Luke notices immediately, and he steps in closer to me instinctively. The crowd begins chanting for one more song.

"One more!" someone yells, and I realize it’s my music teacher from the eight grade.

The chant spreads instantly. I look toward the sky. Toward her, then toward the people who love me most in the world.

"One more," I agree.

The crowd loses their minds. Luke starts playing, and for a moment I swear I can almost see Sadie standing at the front of the crowd wearing that ridiculous cowboy hat. Grinning, giving me a thumbs-up. Telling me I can do this. Just like she always did.

The celebration continues long after we leave the stage. Music, laughter and people everywhere. This is probably the only place in the world where I don't feel like I need to either hide who I am or fake who I am.

Thomas, Noah and Rose have a booth near Adams pub with the newest varieties of ciders. Noah is wearing Iris and keeps swatting anyone who tries to take her from him, saying she has earned him at least five numbers since he slipped on her baby carrier.

Thomas hands me a glass of Saskatoon berry cider he has been working on telling me to make sure the label is always out, because he has been chatting with Brandy, my former social media manager, about branding and now thinks he is an expert. I turn from the booth and nearly walk straight into Jackson Reed.

"Absolutely not."

Jackson laughs, "I haven't said anything yet."

"You were about to." I retorted.

"I was." he says with a grin.

I know what he wants, he’s been skirting around it for the past few months.

"Still no."

Rhett starts laughing before Jackson can answer.

"I think she'd be great." Jackson says.

"I know she'd be great." Rhett answers.

"I don't want a label." I replied.

"You could be the label." Jackson counters.

I stare at him, and the stubborn man stares back.

“We could be the label.” He adds with a wink, and Luke chuckles beside me.

"Jackson."

"What?"

Is he laughing at me?

"You live in Nashville." I offer as an explanation as to why I do not want to have my own label.

"I own airplanes." He rebuts.

I burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you are ridiculous."

"I've been told that, but Bailey…” Then he suddenly stops, mid-sentence. His attention shifts over my shoulder, so I follow his gaze and I see Clara locking up the café. Jackson forgets we're having a conversation. Completely. A slow smile spreads across his face.

Rhett snorts beside me. "I tried telling him."