Page 48 of The Song We Lost

“I didn't turn down the offer before because of me,” I say softly. “It was a request... It was out of respect to Luke... and now...”

I don’t finish. Jackson’s gaze doesn’t budge from my face. He nods once like he understands exactly what I’m not saying.

“Okay,” he says.

I swallow.

He continues, still quiet. “You need anything, you tell me. Not management or PR. Not the machine. Come to me.”

My chest tightens.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Jackson’s mouth lifts into a small, steady smile.

“You are done dimming your light, Bailey,” he says. “Not for anyone. Not anymore.”

Something shifts inside me at those words... small, but true.

Jackson steps back as someone approaches, and the room resumes its structured hum.

I sit there with my hands folded in my lap, posture perfect, smile in place, but inside, a part of me whispers:No more.

Backstage before the announcement, my body feels like it’s vibrating. Like I’m holding myself together with string. Rachel stands beside me, adjusting my mic pack with calm hands.

“You good?” she asks quietly.

“Fine,” I lie.

Jackson’s stage manager does a final countdown. Security checks positions. Jackson is on the stage already with his band.

Today's date is a dull ache in my chest.

Jackson’s voice booms through the stage speakers. The crowd is enormous. The roar is physical.

“I’ve got a special guest tonight,” He says, and even backstage I feel the energy shift. “And we’ve got an announcement.”

My pulse roars in my ears. Rachel’s hand touches the middle of my back, steadying.

Then Jackson says my name. “Come on out, Bailey.”

I step out onto the stage, and the light hits me first, and then the roar of the crowd comes at me like a wave. My smile locks into place, as the crowd loses their minds. For a second, I can’t breathe, because the sound is so loud and my pain has been forced to be so quiet, and the contrast is almost obscene.

Jackson steps toward me, warm and confident, and leans into the mic.

“There she is! Everyone give her a warm welcome!”

My smile stays in place like a shield.

He turns slightly, lowering his voice to me alone. “You got this,” he murmurs.

I nod and he turns back to the crowd.

“A little birdie told me it’s your birthday.”

The crowd erupts again, singing, cheering, chanting my name like their love can drown out my loss. My stomach flips, and my throat tightens, but I swallow my pain like it’s a skill I’ve perfected. I feel the mask settle fully on my face. And then Jackson looks at me, eyes steady, he’s offering me control.

I lift the mic and say the line.