Page 87 of Worth the Fight

“Can you give us a minute?” Jett asks, not shifting his gaze as chairs scrape across the floor, instruments are put down, and the sound booth switch is turned off. When the door shuts behind the last person, he asks, “You okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“It’s weird being back in here, isn’t it?” His voice is soft, warm.

“It hasn’t been that long.” And mine is barely audible.

“He’s hurt you, hasn’t he?”

I keep my face impassive, at least I try to, and lower my eyes from his, aware enough to know Jett is the king of taking advantage of my emotions. “No. There’s nothing really to hurt. I’m getting over you, and he’s dealing with his own issues.” I tighten the strings on the neck of my guitar to busy myself. “We’re at the right place and the right time for each other.”

“Dylan, I don’t believe that for a second. I miss you. I miss us. Didn’t it feel weird walking into your house without me there? My stuff. The smell of my cologne. The music I always have on? I mean, look at us. Look at the music we’re making right now. You can’t do that if you don’t have a special connection with someone.”

It was weird walking into my house without Jett’s presence, but it was even more so when I realized it didn’t feel like a home the way Grady’s does.

“Jett, can we just get this song—?” And when I turn to look up, Jett is right there, in my space. His hand is on my cheek. His face is tilting forward. His breath is on my lips.

I close my eyes out of habit, and the minute his lips touch mine, I stand abruptly and shove my chair back with a clatter. “No,” is off my tongue as my chest heaves and heart twists and insides riot.

“Dylan. Babe . . .”

I stand in the empty studio—a place symbolic to us—and look at Jett. I see everything that is familiar to me. The everyday norm I used to have. I know what life is like with him—unpredictability and spontaneous chaos. A life-long party of insecurity and self-doubt.

And then I picture Grady. Shirt off. Eyes wary. Smile cocky.

You’re my shot in the dark.

He’s everything that is outside my box.

The flame I can’t put out.

He’s everything I want, and I know exactly what to expect.

The dream I need to walk away from.

The outcome is predetermined.

But you’re under my skin.

The emotions are under lockdown.

You’ve tattooed my soul.

The future is nonexistent.

The fate of my heart yours to control.

And yet, he’s the one I’m thinking of right now, not Jett. It’s his kiss I want to taste, not Jett’s. It’s his bed I want to crawl into, his scent I want to smell on the pillowcase when I’m tired and an emotional wreck.

Not Jett’s.

“He’s a rebound, Dylan. I’m the real thing, standing here in front of you. Wanting you.”

His words strike my ears, but it’s Grady’s from the other night that still ring true. His honesty. His anger. His truths.

“No. You aren’t what I want anymore. I used to wait for you. Want you. Need you. But after what you did to me, and the things that Grady has taught me about myself, it no longer holds true.” I look around the room, needing an escape, a moment, anything to gain physical distance from him. “We’re over, Jett. We’re done.”

I look at him one last time before I leave the studio, feeling strength when I never had it before. I’m not going to be a victim, someone whose worth is determined by what a man feels about me.