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The loft.

The studio.

My lyric notebook.

I press my hand over my chest where it hurts the most. My heart.

My pointer finger presses play, and I watch the video again. I listen to the way his voice is tinged with so much sorrow and regret. I watch how he looks into the camera with such raw intensity, like he can actually see me.

It feels like the floor falls out from under me as the truth of it hits me. Kash really did see me. He saw the girl who was hurting and scared and hidden away on a farm. He saw the girl who dreamed of being a songwriter. Who wanted to break free from her past. He saw the good and bad of me, and he didn’t look away.

I think about our fight, playing it back in my mind, and try to see it from his perspective. He’d just gotten some amazing news from Barry. The label loved his songs. They wanted more. That’s huge in and of itself. But then, to find out you’ve been selected as the headliner for the broadcast of the Live, from Nashville! New Year’s Eve Ball? That must have been a wonderful shock.

The earworm snags on the bridge of the song, as if my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

“I couldn’t choose for you,

It’s not my right to take.

And even if it hurts,

It’s a choice you have to make.”

I was mad at the time that he didn’t tell Barry no on my behalf. But couldn’t I have been just as mad if he had? Yes, sending the wrong sample was an accident. And yes, it put me in a crappy position. But now I realize Kash didn’t want to make that choice for me. He wanted to give me time to consider my options. Barry was on a plane. We had time to talk about it. I had time to think.

Kash really wasn’t pressuring me to sing a duet. If I think about the tone of voice he used, along with his words, he wasn’t begging or pleading. He never said “please.” He was simply saying, “I know you can do it. I believe in you.”

What if he wanted to sing a duet with me because the song was ours? What if he truly didn’t care if I bombed because it was more important to him that I had the option to say yes?

I’ve been so stuck for so long, defining myself by one thing that happened in the past, I’ve just assumed everyone else is stuck there, too. But how can I expect anyone else to move past it if I can’t?

Kash was right. The New Year’s Eve Ball is a huge opportunity. Tonight could propel him to the top with a song we co-wrote. And instead of being excited for him—for us—I threw a hissy fit.

“Hey, Grumpy McGrumpy Face, wait up.”

There are times when I really don’t like Halley. Is it a big sister thing to constantly annoy younger siblings, or did I just win a special lottery with her?

I roll my eyes and slow my roll to a shuffle so she can catch up.

“Whatcha doing?”

As if it’s not obvious, based on the crate of cleaning supplies I’m lugging back to the farmhouse, along with a bag of nonperishables I pulled from the pantry. “I just finished up at the Hideaway.”

I frown down at the food, the real reason I went to the Hideaway in the first place.

When Kash is away, the mice will play.

Mice.

I probably should have deep-cleaned it sooner, but Exit 12S had reserved it until today. There was a chance Kash would be back, and then all the scrubbing and mopping I did would have to be done again. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Maybe, somehow, things would magically go back to how they were before it all went to hell in a handbasket.

“So that’s it, then?” she asks, falling into step with me when I pick up the pace.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been busting my butt since I woke up,” I say. “Not all of us can get hours of beauty sleep in the morning. Some of us have work to do.”

I’m trying not to be bitter, but she’s pushing all my buttons.

“It takes a lot of sleep to look this beautiful,” she says with a cheeky grin and a pronounced drawl, reminding me of that Dolly Parton quote It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.