Page 140

She trailed off and it was a long moment before she continued. “I think that’s why I was always drawn to you, you know?”

I let out a small laugh through my nose. “I get it. If I ever met someone who reminded me of Sloan…”

I’d probably never meet someone who reminded me of Sloan.

I just wasn’t that lucky.

Lola wiped at her nose with a tissue. Then she looked around her like she’d just remembered something. She reached down and picked up her tote bag. “I forgot to tell you. I brought you something.” She sniffed as she pulled a folder out. “Feel free to say no. It’s just Ernie mentioned that you’re having a hard time writing, and I thought…” She took a deep breath. “Here.” She handed it to me.

“What is it?” I asked, taking it.

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I wrote some music when I was in rehab.” She laughed again. “I wrote a lot of music. You inspired me, Minnesota.”

I snorted, despite it being a bad joke.

I opened the folder and looked at the sheets inside.

“If you sing them, I’ll get royalties,” she said. “And I need the money. I wrote them just for you, and Ernie says they’re good…” She trailed off when I didn’t look up to answer her.

My eyes pored over the verses. The music danced around my mind like lightning bugs. I flipped the pages, hearing the songs in my head.

They were good. I mean, they’d need a few tweaks here and there to make them mine, and some of them weren’t finished, but…they were amazing.

I looked up at her. “How many are here?”

“Twenty-two?”

I almost choked on the laugh. “Twenty-two songs,” I breathed. I had to put a hand over my mouth. It was almost three albums’ worth.

My freedom. She’d just handed me my freedom.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’ll take them?”

I nodded, my eyes tearing up. “Yes. Of course.”

“’Cause I know you write your own songs and you—”

“Lola, it would be an honor to sing these.” I looked her in the eye and she stared back at me almost shyly.

“My name is Nikki.”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“My name. It’s Nikki. Not Lola. Will you call me that from now on?”

I had to muscle down the knot in my throat. “Yes. Yes, I’ll call you that. And you call me Jason.” I paused for a long moment. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you too.”

I looked back down at the music in my lap and a jab of sorrow overcame me. I had my way out now. I’d need a couple more songs, but that was nothing. Hell, maybe Lola would help me. My label would stagger the releases. Probably one a year and a tour to support each. But three more years wasn’t ten.

But it didn’t make any difference for me and Sloan.

Lola peered around the room like she could tell I was broken and she didn’t want to stare at the cracks. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding to the paper-wrapped painting I had propped against the wall.

I cleared my throat. “It’s just something I bought.”