Chapter Five #2
Cody familiarized himself with where everything was in the kitchen then poured himself another cup of coffee before heading into the living room.
On one of the bookshelves in the room, he discovered a stack of vintage country music magazines.
He flicked through a couple then settled on the couch to read some of the articles.
But reading about the early home life and inspiration of one of his idols made Cody nostalgic, and as he learned about the man’s joy for song writing, Cody was suddenly struck by inspiration.
He raced up to the bedroom to get his guitar and a notebook and pen, then brought it back to the living room and settled down to play.
It had been months since he had written a new song, but he felt inspired.
An hour later he had written two verses, the bridge, and a chorus with a killer hook.
Reid had come back in at some point, but he had headed straight upstairs to his office. When he emerged about thirty minutes later, Cody was still sitting on the couch with the guitar across his lap, playing soft, contemplative chords while he tried to figure out the final verse.
Reid stopped in the doorway, watching. “That sounds good,” he said after a few moments. “Is it new?”
Cody nodded. “It’s been a while since I had the desire to write music, but today, I don’t know, I felt inspired.”
“I’m happy you feel comfortable enough here to be creative.”
“It’s because of you,” Cody admitted.
Reid cocked a brow. “It is?”
Cody felt heat rising in his cheeks, but he refused to look away from Reid’s gaze. “You make me feel safe.”
"I’m glad. You are safe here. I want you to think of this as your home." Reid must have realized how what he'd just said could be interpreted and his jaw tightened. He looked away. "I mean, you could be staying here for a while, so you need to treat it as if it’s your home.”
“I’ll try,” Cody said.
Reid nodded, seemingly satisfied with Cody’s reply then strode into the living room and took a seat on the couch. He settled back, getting himself good and comfortable then looked at Cody expectantly, as if he wanted him to continue. When Cody grinned at him, Reid’s expression faltered.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think to ask if you wanted the company. Am I disturbing you by being here? Do you want me to leave you alone?”
Cody couldn’t think of anything he wanted less which was weird. He usually didn’t like people hearing his songs until they were ready, but with Reid, he didn’t care. Quite the opposite, in fact, he wanted him there.
“No,” Cody said quickly, almost too quickly. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax back into the couch. “No, you’re not disturbing me. Stay.”
Reid stilled, like the word had landed somewhere deeper than it should have.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Cody became acutely aware of everything—the quiet creak of the house settling, the faint scent of pine drifting in from outside… and Reid. The solid presence of him just a few feet away. Watching. Always watching.
It should have made him self-conscious.
Instead, it did something else entirely.
Something warmer. Heavier.
Reid leaned forward slightly, forearms braced on his knees, his attention fixed on Cody in a way that made it hard to breathe. “You sure?” he asked, softer now.
Cody met his gaze, and whatever he saw there made his chest tighten. “Yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “I’m sure.”
The air shifted.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. But enough that Cody felt it—like something invisible had drawn tight between them, humming with a quiet, undeniable pull.
And suddenly, the question slipped out before he could stop it.
"What is this?" Cody asked softly. "This weird pull?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Am I just imagining it?”
Reid's eyes flashed, burning with an intensity that looked nothing like professional duty. "No," he admitted roughly. "You’re not."
"Then what?"
Reid took a breath, like he was wrestling with himself. "I can't answer that. Not yet. But when I can, I will. I promise."
Cody should have pushed. Should have demanded answers instead of accepting this strange dance they were doing. He’d only just met Reid, but there was definitely something there between them, some instant connection that he had no idea how to explain.
But he'd been starved for genuine attention for so long that he’d wondered if he was just projecting. At least now he knew that Reid felt it too, even if he wasn’t able to voice what it meant yet.
"Okay," Cody said. "Then I'll wait. For now, I'll wait."
That afternoon, Diane called. The sound of her voice through the phone was grounding and familiar—a thread of his normal life reaching across the distance.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, cutting through pleasantries.
"Good. Safe. Reid's… he's taking this seriously."
"Reid takes everything seriously,” she said. “That's why he's the best." A pause. "I'm coordinating with the police. They're looking at security footage from the hotels, trying to get an ID on your stalker. It's going to take time, but we'll get there."
"I know," Cody said. And he did. He trusted Diane—had trusted her for five years through every career pivot and personal crisis. "What about my upcoming events? Do we have to cancel?"
"For now, yes. We're telling the press you need a break, burnout narrative. No mention of the threat. Once we identify this person and neutralize the danger, we'll figure out the next steps."
After they hung up, Cody felt marginally better. The machinery was in motion. Diane was handling things her side, and for the meantime, Cody was safe in Montana with Reid. Everything would be fine. He was sure of it.