Chapter Eighteen
Jinnie
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M Y PHONE BUZZES ON the counter, Jack’s name lighting up the screen. I wipe my hands on a dish towel, heart doing this dumb little flutter thing it always does when he calls.
But that flutter hasn’t happened in a while. It’s been three weeks since I abruptly left Memphis. Three weeks I’ve sat and thought about what Liz told me. I don’t want to believe her, but there’s a part of me that can’t let it go.
I take a deep breath before I answer, trying to sound casual. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey yourself,” he says. I can hear the grin in his voice. “Got a question for you.”
I lean against the counter. “Shoot.”
“Do you want to come back out here? To Memphis?” he asks.
I freeze for a second. I’ve been trying not to wonder what he was doing out there. And now, just like that, he’s inviting me back.
I tuck the phone tighter against my ear. “I don’t know, Jack...”
“Come on, Jinnie. I miss you. It’s not the same without you.”
I bite my lip, thinking. There’s this ache in my chest; one I don’t want to admit to. “Would Liz mind?” I ask carefully, even though I try to keep my tone light.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, then Jack laughs. “Liz? What? No! Why would she mind?”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I don’t know, Jack. Maybe because you guys are together.”
“We’re what ?”
“Together,” I say again. “As in seeing each other. Sleeping together.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“She told me you guys are together. Have been since you’ve been there. If you are, just tell me. I get it. She’s gorgeous and rich and part of that world.”
He groans dramatically. “Jinnie, I swear on my life, there is nothing going on with Liz. She’s just my manager. Well—technically my label contact, but you know what I mean. She’s not—” He breaks off, laughing again. “Seriously, no way. She’s not my type. She’s like ten years older than I am.”
I hesitate. I want to believe him. Part of me already does. But another part of me is skeptical. Liz was very convincing. And she does spend a lot of time with him.
“Promise?” I ask, my voice smaller than I mean it to be.
“Promise,” he says immediately. “Jinnie, it’s you. It’s always been you.”
The knot in my chest loosens just a little.
I exhale. “All right,” I say, trying not to sound too giddy. “I’ll come.”
He whoops loud enough I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Yes! You just made my whole damn month.”
I’m smiling now, can’t even help it. “Are you sending your fancy jet?”
“Nope,” Jack says proudly. “Check your email. I already sent you a ticket.”
I blink. “You already — Jack, what if I said no?”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t,” he says smugly. “Besides, it’s refundable. I’m not a complete idiot.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Come see me,” he says.
After we end the call, I stare at my phone. This is the call I’ve secretly been hoping for, but I don’t feel all that confident about things. But I need to see things for myself. And if there is truly nothing between him and Liz, I plan on letting Liz know exactly what I think about her cruel joke.
I check my email and see the flight information. It makes me smile to know he was so confident I would take his ticket. It’s first-class again. I text Lisa to ask if she can cover my shift tomorrow and the next day. I assume I’ll be back within a couple of days.
I go into my room and take some time picking out my outfits. I don’t know what he wants me there for, but I pack an actual suitcase with a few of my best outfits.
Hours later, I walk through the airport and head toward baggage claim. I spot Jack before he sees me—baseball cap pulled low, shoulders hunched, fingers flying across his phone screen. When he looks up, his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey, you.” He pulls me into a hug that lasts a second too short, his phone buzzing between us.
I breathe in his cologne—something new, something expensive that doesn’t suit him. “Missed you.”
“Yeah.” He steps back, already glancing at his screen. “Me too. Shit—hold on.”
The phone goes to his ear. “Liz, I told you—no, the setlist is fine—”
I stand there, holding my carry-on, as he argues about song order for his upcoming tour. When he finally hangs up, he rubs his temples.
“Sorry. Tour stuff.” He grabs my bag.
“I have a suitcase this time,” I say.
We walk to baggage claim together, but he’s not really there. He’s on the phone talking to someone about a guitar he wants. I step forward and claim my suitcase from the conveyor belt. Jack is still on the phone as we walk out to the waiting car.
I’m already regretting my decision to come. I feel like I’m in the way. He’s clearly got a lot going on. Why did he want me here if he’s going to be on the phone the whole time?
I dismiss the thought. He’s busy. He’s got a lot on his plate.
He ends his call. “Sorry. That’s it.”
“No problem.”
“You hungry?” he asks. “I found this really cool place I think you’re going to love. We can drop off your bags and go get an early dinner.”
“Sounds good.” I smile.
We head to the penthouse first. It feels familiar, but something’s off. Jack’s energy is different—distracted, restless. He tosses my suitcase onto the bed and starts pacing, checking his phone every few seconds.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, trying to get his attention.
He looks up startled, like he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh, right. Dinner. Yeah, let’s go.”
Dinner is at some trendy gastropub where the burgers cost twenty-eight dollars and come on slate slabs instead of plates. Jack checks his phone six times before the appetizers arrive.
“The label wants me to add more pop covers,” he says. “Pop. Are you kidding me? I told them if they want fucking Ed Sheeran, they can hire fucking Ed Sheeran, you know?”
He’s been talking about his upcoming tour since we got into the car. I don’t think if even realizes he’s talking in circles. The guy is a basket case.
I push a truffle fry around my plate. “Jack.”
“Hmm?”
“Look at me.”
He does, finally, and what I see steals my breath. He’s got dark circles under bloodshot eyes. There’s a tenseness in his jaw that I haven’t seen before. The boy who once serenaded me with off-key Johnny Cash covers is gone, replaced by this wired, restless stranger.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
“Great!” He takes a drink of his soda. “Just busy. Tour starts next month. Dad’s gonna shit when he sees me on TV. All those assholes who gave me hell in high school are going to be so jealous.”
I reach across the table, covering his jittering hand with mine. “Jack. Who cares what they think?”
His phone buzzes. He flips it over, reads the message, and exhales sharply through his nose. “I do.”
“You’re doing this for you, right?”
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t rub it in their faces,” he says. “I deserve to gloat.”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
We eat our burgers with Jack talking more about the tour and the stage setup. He tells me about a drummer they are considering using on the tour. I listen but I don’t have to say anything. He clearly doesn’t need me to be involved in the conversation. I’m just a pair of ears.
We finish our meal and step outside the restaurant. A group of young ladies spots him and freaks out. He practically pushes me into the back of the car.
“Wow,” I say.
“Yeah. It’s cool, but sometimes I just don’t want to deal with it.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. I really don’t know what to say. I’m surprised by the change in him. He’s spiraling. This is a version of Jack I haven’t seen. I don’t like it.
Back at his penthouse, Jack paces like a caged animal, ranting about streaming numbers and ticket sales while I sit cross-legged on the couch.
“—and the fucking label won’t spring for pyro unless we sell out Cleveland, but Liz says—”
“Jack.”
“—if we push the socials harder, maybe do some TikTok shit—”
“ Jack. ”
He stops mid-step, blinking at me like he’s forgotten I’m here.
I pat the space beside me. “Come sit.”
For a blessed moment, he does. His knee bounces uncontrollably as I thread my fingers through his.
“Remember the first time we met?”
He frowns. “The bakery.”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“That guy was faced with a really difficult situation. You came through it with flying colors. What did you do when you discovered you were flat broke?”
He snorted. “I slept in the back of my truck off the side of the road.”
“Yes, and you made beautiful music,” I remind him.
He snorts. “Yeah, I was surviving on day old bread. Not exactly my finest moment.”
“That’s the Jack I know. Not this.” I gesture around the room. “This isn’t you.”
His phone rings. Liz’s name flashes across the screen.
Jack stares at it like it’s a live grenade. “I have to take this.”
I sigh and walk into the bedroom. I hear him talking as I pack my things. Coming here was a mistake. He doesn’t need me. I can’t stand to see him like this.
Jack comes into the room. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“My parents need me,” I lie smoothly, already grabbing my suitcase. “Family emergency. I’ll get a cab to the airport.” Again .
“What? Wait, for real? You’re going to leave?”
“Yes, I need to.”
“I’ll take you,” he says.
“No. You’ve got stuff to take care of here.”
“I’ll book your flight,” he says.
“All set,” he says. “They upgraded you to—”
“I don’t care about upgrades, Jack.”
His mouth snaps shut.
Jack’s phone buzzes again. He doesn’t check it.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally.
I want to believe him. Want to believe this is just a phase, that the real Jack is still in there somewhere. But when I search his face, all I see is exhaustion and desperation and a hunger that has nothing to do with me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He pulls me into a hug, his grip almost painful. “I’ll call you.”
I don’t answer.
I go downstairs alone. My heart is breaking but I’m not about to cry. Not yet. I keep my wits together as I go through security. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long to board.
At cruising altitude, I finally let the tears fall. The businessman next to me discreetly offers a napkin.
Through the window, Memphis shrinks to a speck of light in the darkness. Somewhere down there, Jack is probably already back on his phone, back to chasing whatever it is he thinks will fill the hole inside him.
And I’m here.
Finally understanding that some loves aren’t meant to be saved. I tried. He tried, but it just wasn’t meant to be.