Chapter Fifty-One
Paige
The TV’s on, but it’s just background noise, playing some re-run of a reality show Mom watches, all bright and fake, simply on just to fill the space, to keep the silence from invading and making me relive the last couple of days.
I curl deeper into the corner of the sectional, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands, knees tucked up to my chest beneath a blanket. My hair’s knotted and greasy, twisted on the top of my head. I’m a mess, but I don’t care, at least I’m not in bed staring at the ceiling.
The front door opens and clicks shut again, and I don’t bother turning around. Footsteps move across the hardwood, then Dad’s voice cuts through the dull drone of the TV.
“Any change?”
Mom’s reply is soft, almost a whisper, but I hear it clear as anything. They’re worried, I know they are. But they shouldn’t be. Heartache isn’t something I need protection from.
“No. She’s eaten more today, though. But not much.” She sighs.
They talk like I’m not in the room, like I’m a ghost in their house, haunting the corner of the couch in silence.
“Has she said anything?”
“Not really. A nod here or there, a shrug if she can be bothered.” I can picture her face as I stare at the TV, lips drawn tight with concern. “I’m worried.”
I hear the distinct sound of Dad dropping a kiss to her temple before walking into the living room. The couch cushions dip as he joins me seconds later.
“How are you doing, honey?”
I glance at him, twitching my lips upward. It’s the best I can manage.
God, I hate mopey Paige. I just want to be back to normal.
“I saw Maddox this afternoon,” Dad says as casually as if he was discussing the weather.
I stiffen, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen.
“He was visiting your sister when I got there.” Suddenly, breathing has gotten a lot harder.
“He’s been carrying a lot, Paige. More than you probably know.
He really believed it was his fault, that your sister would still be here if it weren’t for him. ”
My lips part, my brain trying to process that. I keep replaying that morning in Reign’s hotel suite, but the memory is warped, distorted. Maddox’s mouth moves, but I can’t make out his words, even though they’re etched on my brain.
I’m the reason your sister’s dead.
My chest aches, and I press my lips together, still not looking at my father as I breathe through the torrent of pain building like a storm inside me.
“He should’ve told you, honey. As soon as he knew who you were, he should’ve been honest,” Dad says, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “But I understand why he didn’t.”
“He lied to me,” I whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. “They all did.”
“I’m not saying it was right. I’m saying I understand.”
My eyes burn with tears I no longer have to give.
“He wasn’t trying to deceive you,” he continues softly. “He was trying to avoid something he didn’t think he deserved.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, risking a glance at him.
He looks older than he should. Worn down in a way that unsettles me. But when he looks up, a gentle smile pulls at his lips as he wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head.
“Freedom from his past,” he says, letting out a long, slow breath. “The boy’s hurting, Paige. I’m not saying forgive him. Just…don’t throw away something good just because it began in the wrong place.”
I don’t say anything, just lean into his side as we sit together in the quiet, his hand rubbing slow circles on my arm. But after a while, he shifts uncomfortably, like he can’t get comfy.
“What?” I ask, preparing to hear something I’m not sure I’ll like.
“I asked him why you haven’t accepted the deal.”
Snapping upright, I stare at him. “Dad…”
“You knew it might’ve come from us, sweetheart,” he says. “All the exposure, the crowds… The band is good, really good. You think my team would miss an opportunity like that?”
I look away, throat tight, toying with the tassels at the end of the blanket.
“Paige.” He continues, taking my hand in his. “I don’t sign artists as favors. You know that; you’ve seen it firsthand. Remember when you were a kid and would ask me to sign whatever band was your favorite at the time just so you could meet them?”
“But it’s not the same. It’s not that I think you pulled strings or whatever. I just…”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Maddox. I can’t track every artist on our roster,” he says firmly, giving my hand a gentle tug. “Believe me. James reassured me his guy had no idea who you were when he came to see you. They offered you the deal because they liked you, not because of me.”
I nod slowly, eyes fixed on our clasped hands. The lump in my throat is stubborn, sitting there, unwilling to move. Tugging me back into his side, he leans back with a sigh.
“I get it,” he murmurs. “But would you really turn it down just because it has Deveraux on the paperwork? Just think about it, okay?”
Hours pass by in flickers of blue light, and Dad turns the channel to one of his shows, but I’m not really paying attention. When I finally drag my sorry ass upstairs, the house it’s dark.
Pushing open the door, I head straight for my bed, sinking onto the mattress and finally looking around for the first time since I got here, the hazy fog lifting enough for me to actually notice everything in my childhood bedroom, still exactly the same as the day I left for college.
The bookshelf hasn’t moved, my high school music awards still sitting covered in dust beside my old, beat-up Twilight box set, worn and used from too many annual marathons.
Leaning forward, I flick on the lamp by the bedside, casting everything in an amber glow. Two identical notebooks lie side by side on the comforter, and my heart squeezes as I stare at them.
One used for my lyrics, the other Penny’s innermost thoughts.
I left the journal behind, too precious to risk losing it on tour, the last entry still unread.
I’ve avoided it since I started reading, long before Maddox’s confession.
Not just because it’s the end, the final page, with no more memories of my sisters left to unwrap in her own words, but because now… everything reads differently.
Him is Maddox.
God, I wish I didn’t know that. I wish I could still pretend he was just some unnamed guy—a background figure in her story. I stare at the journal, my stomach twisting with dread and morbid curiosity.
Shaking my head, I leave it and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. But when I return, it’s still there, of course it is. The brown leather cover is less sun-stained than mine, the spine barely creased.
Slowly, I sit on the bed and lift it into my lap. It feels heavier now, the leather not as soft as before, and for the first time since I found it in the box of things Dad gave to me, it feels like something I shouldn’t touch. Shouldn’t read.
Just like Maddox’s lyrics the first time.
But my hands move anyway, flipping pages until I reach the last one. I close my eyes when I see her handwriting and draw in a deep breath, slowly letting it out.
And I read.
Tonight’s the night.
I can feel it.
We’re staying late, a request from the band, because their first-ever album is almost ready to be released!!!!
I’m so happy for them. They’ve worked so damn hard… We all have. And even though I can’t wait to see them succeed, part of me feels… I don’t know, sad, maybe? This will be the last time they record at Big Sky. The last time I get to work with them.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. Dad’s been hounding me to move to one of the Deveraux Records sister studios. But I don’t know if I’m ready yet. The pressure of not letting Dad down…it’s huge.
I mean, Paige literally inherited all of Dad’s musical talent. Singing? She’s got a voice of an angel. Playing the drums? Out of this world.
Me? I’m tone deaf, can’t read music and my timing isn’t exactly…on time.
But this, working behind the scenes, producing, engineering, this is my thing. Not Paige’s, who insists on writing songs for other people.
I just wish she’d realize she’s meant for more than hiding behind someone else, y’know? She’s meant to be on stage in some way, performing for millions.
Just like Maddox.
God, if the two of them could meet, it would be like two souls colliding. He’s stubborn and brilliant, one of the best musicians I’ve ever worked with. And his songs… No one writes like Maddox.
Well. Except Paige. And even then, sometimes she writes better.
He’d love her. I know he would. And that’s what makes this crush so weird.
And yeah, I know, I fall in and out of crushes all the time.
I’m twenty-two, for god’s sake. It’s what I’m supposed to do.
But he’s crazy talented and stupid hot. And if I thought for one second Paige would go for a setup…
I mean, c’mon, we know her, she avoids relationships like the plague… I’d give him her number in a heartbeat.
I swear, with him, it’d be different. He wouldn’t use her for our name, and he’d actually help her become the best damn musician the world’s ever seen.
Mom and Dad might be the industry power couple, but Paige and Maddox? They’d be legends.
Anyway, I’m rambling. Call it nerves, because tonight, I’m telling him I sort of, kind of, have feelings for him.
If he rejects me, that’s okay. I’m a strong, independent woman. I can get over it.
But if he doesn’t…
This is stupid, I’ve spent half a page gushing about how good Maddox and Paige would be perfect together, and here’s me, preparing to lay it all out for him.
Either way, I’m telling him tonight. And if he says no, I’ll bounce back. I always do.
But if he doesn’t… OH MY GOD, what if he doesn’t…
I can’t wait to call Paige and tell her everything.
I just hope it’s good news.
P x
The next page is blank. The rest of the book, blank. No more stories, no more thoughts and feelings documented forever about a life taken too prematurely. No more Penny.
I clutch the book so hard the leather creases, the spine bending under my fingers. She was rooting for us before we even met. And I’ll never get the chance to tell her she was right. That’s the part that breaks me. Not the silence or the absence of my sister.
And for the first time since I found out the truth, the tears come.
Quiet and steady and endless.