Page 135 of Just Wait

“Wait,” Riser says calmly. “Are there any stipulations or conditions she should know about before signing?”

“There is,” Mr. Hawthorne says. “This offer contains a right-of-first-refusal clause that pertains to any future songs written in the next two years.”

“What exactly does that mean?” I ask.

“If you write any additional songs within the next two years, you must first offer them to Ruined Records,” Mr. Hawthorne says, clearing his throat. “They would have thirty days to make an offer, if they were interested. If they do, you’re under no obligation to accept that offer. We can always negotiate for a better number or walk if they aren’t willing to play ball.”

“She would just have to give them first dibs, basically?” Riser asks.

“Correct,” Mr. Hawthorne says. “You can decline for any reason. Now, if they pass, you can sell your creation to anyone. There’s no noncompete clause.”

“I don’t think I know what that means,” I say, grimacing. “Sorry. I do. I’m just…” My entire body shudders. “They offered almost seventy grand for the songs I wrote?”

“They did.” Hawthorne chuckles. “And don’t feel guilty. That shows me they anticipate making it back tenfold once Tangled Desires makes it into the studio following the tour.”

Jesus.

Well, that’s good news for Theo and his bandmates.

A tiny piece of me is resentful, and I don’t even know why.

If I sign, I’ll be more than okay. It’s an extreme amount of money for the work I put in to create those songs. On top of that, Riser, Mal, and Kincaid make me happy.

Knowing I’m going to have to watch Theo’s career explode and see him move on in the public eye causes an uncomfortable pang in my stomach.

Everything is still fresh.

That hurt will get better with time.

Thinking about my dad obviously brought up those feelings of nostalgia because he was with me every day while my dad was in the hospital.

“I think Lumen is a little overwhelmed,” Riser says. “Can you email over the contract? Kincaid will want to read it thoroughly before she signs.”

“Of course,” Mr. Hawthorne says, verifying my email. He hangs up, and I drop my phone in my lap.

“How ya doing over there?” Riser asks, smoothing his hand down my arm.

“Almost seventy thousand dollars?” I shake my head, laughing a little hysterically. “I’m great. I won’t have to beg Theo to pay off the apartment complex.”

“That is a win, even if, morally speaking, he should give you half without you needing to ask.” Riser teases his fingers back up my arm and runs them through my hair.

“Sorry. I’m a little frazzled.” I lean over, resting my face on his chest. “Your scent is like taking a heavy dose of anxiety meds, and I’m going to shamelessly soak it up, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t even need to ask,” he says, pulling me closer.

Goddammit.

My heart is in danger.

He’s so easy to be around.

By the time we make it back to the bus, Kincaid and Malcolm have returned from the gym. Parish, Tennyson, and Wren seem to be out, which is a relief.

Riser helps carry in the laundry while I handle most of the shopping bags. I drop everything onto the floor between the bed and the wall and tackle getting the sheets on the mattress.

I’m just tossing the blanket over the freshly made sheets when Kincaid’s hazelnut scent hits my nose, and I peek around to see where he is.

He stands in the hallway with his hands resting on the sides of the doorjamb.