Chapter Fifteen
Jinnie
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I WAKE UP, AND THE first thing I do is reach for my phone to check for a message from Jack. But there’s nothing. No missed calls, no texts. It’s been a day. I can’t help but think this is going to be the first of many days I’m not going to hear from him.
He texted me a couple of days ago and let me know he was going to be in a writing room. He said he was struggling and had to focus. It has been seven days since Memphis. Seven days since Jack kissed me goodbye at the airport with promises of calling every night. We talked exactly once and that was only a couple of minutes when he was on his way to the studio. His texts have been sporadic and short. All that hope for a bright future disappears.
My alarm goes off. I set it just in case I don’t wake up, but it’s yet to be a problem. The room is still dark. I don’t have time to lie in bed and lament Jack’s absence. I have to work. He’s living in a penthouse and flying private jets around the country, but I’m still a girl who works at a bakery.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle to the bathroom, flipping on the light. My reflection stares back at me. I have dark circles under my eyes. I look like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and maybe I have.
This thing with Jack is up and down and sideways and every other way. It’s taking its toll. I turn on the hot water. It’s cold in the house but I’m not going to bother turning up the heat since I’ll be leaving in a few. I let the water beat down on me, trying to wash away the heaviness in my chest.
By the time I step out, steam fills the tiny bathroom. I wrap myself in a towel and stand in front of the mirror again, wiping away the fog with my hand. My hair drips onto my shoulders as I brush my teeth with more force than necessary.
I throw on my usual uniform—jeans and a hoodie—and pull my damp hair into a messy bun. Breakfast is a cup of coffee that I barely taste as I gulp it down standing at the counter. I dump Max’s food in his bowl. He winds around my legs as I grab my keys and head for the door. He meows pitifully and I almost feel bad. I didn’t give him the attention he’s used to.
The bakery’s industrial mixer whines as I dump in another cup of flour. The dough is too dry now—I lost count of how much I’ve added—but I keep mixing anyway, the mechanical whir drowning out the thoughts circling my brain.
He’s busy.
He’s forgetful.
He’s moved on.
“Jinnie?” Stephanie’s voice cuts through the noise. She reaches over and turns off the mixer. “Honey, you’re making bricks, not bread.”
I blink down at the stiff, pale lump in the bowl. “I can fix it.”
Stephanie peels my fingers off the mixer one by one. “Go home. It’s dead. I’m going to close early today.”
“I’m fine,” I insist.
Stephanie laughs. “Of course, you are. I’m going to finish up and lock up. You may as well go home. Get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She smiles.
I clean up my mess and go home. Now, the house is cold. Thankfully, it’s so small it heats up quickly.
“Now what?” I ask Max, who has hopped into my lap. “Do I text him? He’s probably busy. I don’t want to bother him, but maybe he needs to hear from me.”
The cat is unbothered.
When I hear my phone ding with a text, I realize I left it on the table. I jump up so fast, Max falls to the floor. “Sorry!”
I grab my phone expecting to see a message from Jack. My heart drops when I realize it’s from Aunt Aggie. She’s invited me to dinner. My first thought is to decline the invitation. I feel like sulking.
Which is why I quickly reply that I’ll be there.
Moping around isn’t going to solve anything. It’s not going to make him text me. And it irritates me to think of him living his best life while I sit here waiting for him to throw me a bone.
I knock on Aunt Aggie’s door, my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my hoodie. The cold air bites at my cheeks. I can already smell the comforting scent of something savory wafting from inside. Aunt Aggie opens the door almost immediately, her warm smile instantly making me feel a little lighter.
“There you are,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”
“Sorry,” I mumble into her shoulder. “Got distracted.”
She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and studying my face. Her eyes narrow slightly, and I know she sees right through me—the dark circles, the forced smile, the way I’m holding myself like I’m trying to keep it all together. My aunt has a way of seeing things before I even say them.
“Come on in,” she says gently, stepping aside to let me pass. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
I follow her into the kitchen. A pot of something bubbling on the stove fills the air with the scent of garlic and herbs. Aunt Aggie bustles around, grabbing a loaf of bread from the oven and setting it on the counter to cool.
“Sit,” she commands, nodding toward the table. “Tea or soda?”
I hesitate for a second before nodding. “Tea is fine.”
But I can’t sit down. There’s a nervous energy in me I can’t escape.
“Stop pacing,” Aggie says without turning around. “You’re wearing a hole in my floor.”
I slump into a chair at the scarred oak table—the same one where Jack used to sit. I can’t help but smile thinking about the many mornings I showed up before he even had coffee. I can picture his bedhead. He’d be in a little bit of a stupor after staying up late playing at the bar.
“You’re still vibrating,” Aunt Aggie says with a laugh. “Talk. What’s going on?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Aggie snorts. “Bullshit.” She drops into the chair opposite me. “We haven’t talked since you got back from Memphis. How’s our rockstar?”
“Good.”
“Good? Come on, you have to give me more than that.”
I take a deep breath, twisting the hem of my hoodie in my hands. “It was surreal,” I start, my voice quiet. “The penthouse, the studio, all of it. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. He’s got this insane view of the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows. And the studio? It’s like something out of a movie—all these blinking lights and equipment I don’t even know the names for. He was in this little booth, singing into a microphone with headphones on, and everyone was just watching him like he was some kind of god.”
Aggie leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Sounds fancy.”
“It is,” I say, but there’s a strain in my voice. “But it’s also not him. Not really. He’s got this whole team around him—producers, writers, that woman Liz who’s always hovering over him like she owns him. They’re all trying to shape him into something polished. Something marketable. And he’s fighting it, but I don’t know if he can win.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug and shake my head. “They’re changing him, Aggie. His songs, his sound, even the way he dresses. It’s like they’re sanding off all his rough edges to make him fit some mold. And he hates it—I can tell—but he doesn’t know how to push back without risking everything he’s worked for.”
She nods slowly. “And how is he handling all of it? The fame? The pressure?”
I bite my lip, staring down at the table. “He’s different. Tired, mostly. When he called me after I left Memphis last week, it was like talking to a stranger.”
I pause for a second to build up my courage to say what follows next. “But those moments are getting rarer.”
She hums quietly in response as she leans back in her chair and studies me with careful eyes. “And did you have a good visit?”
“Yeah. Really good. At least, I thought it was.”
“And now?”
“Now he’s gone radio silent again.” The words taste bitter. “Just like before.”
Aggie gets up to turn off the stove. “You think he’s changed?”
“I think the world around him has.” I swallow hard.
“And that Liz woman certainly seems to have more than a professional interest in him.”
My head whips around. “You think so, too!”
She shrugs. “I saw the way she eyeballed him. Yes, I’m sure she saw the talent, but I have a feeling she’s the kind of woman who likes to prey on young men.”
I groan. “Great.”
“But Jack has zero interest in that woman,” she reassures me. “Trust me, he only has eyes for you.”
“I don’t believe that. There are about a million women who want him. Probably more.”
“This music thing—it’s new. He’ll figure it out. You’re going to be the one he comes home to.”
“But what if he figures it out without me?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Then he’s a damn fool.”
I laugh, but it comes out hollow. “He’s not the same. I’m not sure if I fit into this new world of his.”
“Listen, Jinnie. People change. That’s just life. But some things—some people—stay with you, no matter how far you go or how much you grow. You’re one of those people for Jack.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she says simply. “That boy has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even close.”
“Maybe. But it’s hard to compete with everything he’s getting. The fame, the money, the opportunities.”
“You’re not competing with any of that,” Aggie says firmly. “You’re you. And that’s what he needs, whether he realizes it right now or not.”
I want to believe her. I really do. But the silence from Jack feels like a chasm between us, growing wider every day.
We eat dinner but don’t talk about Jack anymore. I think she can sense it really is painful. When I get home, I do feel like she gave me some insight. He might want me or he might not. I don’t know, but how stupid would it be for me to sit around and wait?
I grab my laptop and type in the words for the local community college. I click through the programs. Business Administration. Graphic Design. Marketing.
Marketing.
My fingers hover over the trackpad. I click on the course details. I could keep working at the bakery while I study. Most of the classes are online.
My chest aches.
It’s a good plan. A smart plan. A plan that doesn’t involve waiting by the phone for a man who might never call. I don’t want to be that girl waiting. Unable to stop myself, I reach for my phone to check for a message that I know isn’t there.
I have to think of a future that doesn’t include Jack. It hurts, but it only hurts worse if I sit around here doing nothing.