Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Jami hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Carlene standing in the glow of the barn lights, her expression a mix of strength and something softer.
That look in her beautiful brown eyes when she said she would take responsibility had stayed with him.
It wasn’t right. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she was willing to take the blame to protect him.
By morning, he gave up on sleep entirely. The barn was quiet except for the steady rhythm of the waves hitting the rocks below. He poured coffee and scrolled through his phone, news alerts flashing one after another.
The statement had gone live.
Her words were perfect, like always. Honest, precise, and measured enough to keep the fire from spreading. Still, it made his stomach twist to see her name attached to something that should have never touched her.
Tony’s name appeared on his screen. “The label’s happy,” Tony said. “Carlene’s release worked. We’re back on track.”
Jami leaned against the counter. “How’s she holding up?”
“She’s exhausted. They’ve lined up a follow-up interview for this morning. They want you there, too. United front and all that.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Send me the details.”
After the call, he walked outside. The air was clean and sharp, carrying the scent of salt and pine.
He told himself to focus on the band, the tour, the music, and that song that lingered at the back of his mind, but wouldn't fully reveal itself to him.
Anything but the memory of how it had felt to have her in his arms. She would likely leave soon after they fully implemented the marketing plan and cleared up this mess.
And he'd be on tour. One of her purposes was to bring his spark back, which she did, but he suspected, not in the way she meant to.
He enjoyed having her around. She had a sharp mind, and she was focused and professional.
They had that in common. But he felt she held herself away from him.
Invisible walls built more solidly around her heart than any military base walls.
By the time the media team arrived at the barn, he had his stage face back in place. Cameras, lighting rigs, wires, and the low buzz of professionals doing their work. He knew this routine, but today it felt heavier.
Carlene arrived just before nine, hair pulled back, expression calm but tight around the edges.
She wore the look of someone who had been up all night thinking instead of sleeping.
He knew it because he felt the same. And because he was beginning to know her.
She wasn't one to let a problem go to bed with her.
She'd beat it into submission before laying her head down to sleep.
She gave him a brief nod. “You ready for this?”
“As ready as I can be. You?”
Her lips pressed together. “I'm ready. I've thought of nothing else for most of the morning.
Once this is over, I'll feel better. You need to be the strong, sensitive lead singer, Jami.
Show the press you're vulnerable —and that this is the last thing you expected to be attached to your name.
Throw me under the bus if you need to. I know the truth, and I'll deal with it.”
His gut twisted. No fucking way he'd throw her under the bus. This wasn't her doing. It was being done to her at the expense of Hart & The Hurricanes.
The reporter entered the room, all smiles and posh-looking.
Too slick for his taste, and she was slightly flirty.
It raised the hairs at the back of his neck that she was openly flirting with him while she was working.
Just the opposite of Carlene, who was always professional.
It was he who kissed her first, changing the dynamic of their relationship. It was him.
They sat side by side on one of the worn leather sofas with the interviewer across from them. The first few questions were simple. How were they doing? Thank you for the interview. Then the shift came.
“Carlene,” the interviewer said, “your statement this morning was very direct. You accepted responsibility for the confusion, even though the evidence points to outside interference. Why take that on yourself?”
Carlene’s voice was even. “Because accountability matters. My job is to protect the integrity of this band. We don’t point fingers until we have proof, and we focus on the work, not the noise.”
The interviewer nodded, then turned to him. “Jami, has this experience changed how you see the business side of music?”
He took a slow breath. “It reminded me how easy it is for people to twist the truth. Music should be about connection. When the business drowns that out, everyone loses. We’re here to play, to create something real.
The rest doesn’t matter. And for the record, I've always been mindful of the business side of the music.”
Carlene’s eyes flicked toward him, the briefest glance, but it hit him hard. She believed in the same truth, and somehow it tied them together more tightly than anything either of them said aloud.
"Carlene. You've blamed your former company, Reed & Carr. Do you have the evidence?"
Carlene leaned slightly forward, and he felt her arm brush his, but he refrained from looking at her.
The reporter’s eyes dropped to where their arms touched, and his gut twisted.
She was looking for something to twist everything.
He'd seen it before, that ugly little jealousy bug that hit women who had no claim over him, but wanted to.
Her flirtatious behavior this morning triggered the warning signals in his brain.
Carlene's voice was calm, and she smiled slightly when she replied. "I do. And we continue to gather more every hour."
The reporter's lips thinned. She turned her puppy-dog eyes toward him and smiled. "Jami, does it worry you that you've attached yourself to a PR firm that seems to have brought drama to Hart & The Hurricanes? From all I've read about you, no drama has been a long-standing tradition with you."
His jaw tightened, and he knew she saw it too. She sat back slightly, and her expression changed to someone waiting to be scolded.
"I'm not at all sorry I hired Carlene's company. She's doing a stand-up job, and we're continually impressed with her. The fact that her former company is sabotaging her work speaks volumes for how good she is."
The reporter's head jerked slightly, but recovered with a terse. "Oh, of course. Thank you again for allowing me to set the record straight."
The interview ended, and the crew began packing up. The barn quieted again.
“You handled that well,” she said softly. “But perhaps a bit too defensive of me."
He waited until the crew began carrying the equipment outside. “You did all the heavy lifting.”
“That’s my job.”
He smiled. “You keep saying that like it makes this any easier.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “It has to be easy for you, you're the client.”
The crew and reporter drove down the long driveway to the road below. Jami closed the barn door, closing them inside.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You didn’t deserve to take that hit, Carlene.”
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can. But that doesn’t make it right.”
Her breath caught, and she looked away, busying herself with her laptop. “Let’s focus on the win. The label’s happy. That’s what matters.”
He wanted to argue, to tell her what actually mattered, but Tony’s voice broke the silence from the doorway. “You two were great. The label’s already pushing the clip. It’s performing well.”
Carlene straightened, her professional tone snapping back in place. “Good. That’s what we needed.”
Tony left, and the quiet settled again. Jami watched her close her laptop and gather her notes, each movement careful and contained.
When she turned to leave, he said, “Thank you for today.”
She paused. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Their eyes met, and for a second, the air between them felt like that night again. She broke the moment first, nodding once before walking out into the sunlight.
Jami stayed where he was, listening to the waves outside and the faint hum of the amps cooling behind him.
He knew what he was supposed to do: keep things professional, let the tension fade, and move on with the tour. But watching her walk away made one truth settle deep in his chest.
He didn’t want to move on.
And no matter how clean the statement sounded or how calm the headlines looked, nothing about this felt finished.