Chapter 7
THREE WEEKS LATER
The FaceTime call dropped for the third time in ten minutes.
I stared at my phone, at Cole’s frozen face mid-sentence, and resisted the urge to throw it across the room.
When he called back, exhaustion lined his features. “Sorry. Service is terrible in Iowa.”
“Iowa?”
“Yeah. We added dates. Three more weeks on the road before we’re back in North Carolina.”
My heart sank. “Three weeks.”
“I know. I’m sorry. The label wants us building buzz before the album drops.”
The album. Right. Two weeks after Charlotte, Horizon had offered them a deal. One album to test the waters. Studio time in Nashville. Marketing budget. The whole package.
I was happy for him. I was also exhausted from missing him.
“How’s the rescue?”
“Good. We got six new intakes this week.”
“You need help?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I need you.”
His expression crumbled. “Autumn…”
“I know. You’re working. Building your career. I’m not trying to guilt you.”
“It feels like guilt.”
“It’s just honesty.”
Silence stretched between us, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.
“I miss you.” His voice was rough.
“I miss you, too.”
“Two more weeks. Then I’ll be back for four days before Nashville.”
Four days. After being apart for five weeks.
“What else can I say, Cole? This is your life. Your dream. I’m not going to ask you to choose between me and music.”
“You’re not asking. I’m choosing both.”
“Are you, though?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”
“Neither is being alone for weeks at a time while you’re…” I stopped myself.
“While I’m what?”
“Nothing. I’m tired. Forget it.”
“No. Say it.”
“While you’re surrounded by people who get to see you every day. Who understand this life. Who probably make more sense for you than someone stuck in Asheville scooping dog poop.”
“Autumn…”
“I have to go. Intake appointment in five minutes.”
“Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not. I need space to think.”
“About what?”
About whether I could keep doing this. Whether love was supposed to hurt this much. If I were strong enough to be the person waiting while he lived his dreams.
“I’ll call you later.”
I hung up before he could respond.
ONE WEEK LATER
Brynn found me crying in the puppy room at 6 PM on a Tuesday.
“Well, this is pathetic.” She settled beside me on the floor. A golden retriever puppy crawled into her lap immediately.
“Thanks for the support.”
“I’m supportive by being honest.” She scratched the puppy’s ears. “What happened?”
“Cole’s tour got extended again. He won’t be back for another month.”
“So?”
“So I haven’t seen him in six weeks. We’ve had four actual conversations that lasted longer than ten minutes. And every time we talk, we fight about something stupid because we’re both exhausted, frustrated, and this isn’t working.”
“Have you told him that?”
“What’s the point? He can’t change his schedule. The label owns him now.”
“You’re just going to suffer in silence and resent him?”
“I don’t resent him.”
“You’re crying in a puppy room at six at night. That’s either resentment or a mental breakdown. Possibly both.”
I wiped my eyes. “I don’t know how to do this. Long distance. The uncertainty. Wondering if I’m enough to make him want to come back.”
“Autumn, the man wrote you into a song. You’re enough.”
“Am I though? Because Faith called me yesterday.”
Brynn’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say?”
“How she’s worried about both of us. That we’re both miserable and need to actually talk instead of this passive-aggressive bullshit we’ve been doing.”
Brynn blinked. “Wait. Faith called to… help?”
“Yeah. She gave me this whole speech about how she and Cole imploded because they didn’t communicate, and she doesn’t want to watch us make the same mistakes.” I buried my face in my hands. “She told me to be honest about what I need. To stop waiting for him to read my mind.”
“Wait… Faith is being supportive?”
“Annoyingly supportive. Like a sister who’s seen me fuck up and is trying to prevent round two.”
“Huh.” Brynn processed this. “I did not see that coming.”
“Me neither.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. What if I call him and tell him I can’t do this? What if I need more than he can give?”
“Then you’ll know. And you can make a choice.” Brynn grabbed my shoulders. “But, Autumn? You’re spiraling. You’re creating problems that might not exist because you’re scared of getting hurt. Call him. Have an actual conversation. Find out if this is salvageable.”
“What if it’s not?”
“What if it is?” She squeezed my arms. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
She was right.
I called Cole.
He answered on the first ring, his face filling my screen. He looked terrible—dark circles under his eyes, scruff that had crossed from attractive to concerning.
“Hey.”
“You look like hell.”
“Haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Cole.”
“Faith called you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She told me. Said you sounded miserable, and I needed to get my head out of my ass and actually talk to you.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “She said that?”
“Exact words. She’s been on my case for a week about how I’m being an idiot.” His expression turned serious. “Are you miserable?”
“Yes. But not because of you. Because I miss you so much, I can’t think straight. Because I lie awake wondering if you’re okay, if you still want this, if I’m losing you. I’m scared.”
“Me, too.”
“This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “Autumn, don’t give up on us. Please. Two more weeks and I’ll be there. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m not losing you because of geography, bad phone service, and both of us being too stubborn to say what we actually need.”
“I need you here. Present. Not just on a screen.”
“I know. And I need to know you’re not going to shut me out every time things get hard.” He leaned closer to the camera. “We have to talk to each other. Actually talk. Not just text ‘I’m fine’ when we’re both falling apart.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“Neither am I. But we have to try.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“I love you.”
The words hung in the air.
Cole’s expression went soft, awed. “Say that again.”
“I love you. I’m terrified, anxious, and probably making this harder than it needs to be, but I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His smile could’ve lit up the entire state. “I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Scared you’d run.”
“I still might.”
“Then I’ll chase you.” His voice went fierce. “Autumn, you’re it for me. I know it’s fast. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“Not even music?”
“Not even music.”
I pressed my hand to the screen, wishing I could touch him.
The phone glowed between us. Miles apart. Hearts in the same place.
And I did not know if love would be enough to bridge the distance.