Chapter Twelve
Cody
They flew back to Montana three days later.
Daniel was in custody, denied bail, facing charges that would keep him locked away for years.
The detective called to confirm what they’d pieced together: Daniel had moved to Nashville six months ago, gotten a job with the venue’s maintenance contractor, and patiently waited for Cody to come to him.
The letters had been a way of staying connected.
The Instagram photo had been the breaking point. Daniel had admitted everything.
It was over.
Diane arrived at the ranch the following week. She spread contracts across the kitchen table, her expression businesslike despite the dark circles under her eyes.
“Okay, so here’s where we stand,” she said. “The label wants a statement from you about the stalking incident. The media is hungry for your side of the story. We have several interview requests—”
“No interviews,” Cody said. “Written statement only. Thank you to the police, thank you to my security team, and request for privacy.”
Diane made notes. “What about the album? You’re contractually obligated to deliver by next quarter—”
“I’m going to need to renegotiate that timeline. And potentially the whole contract.” Cody glanced at Reid, who nodded encouragement. “I’m stepping back from the tour circuit. No more arena shows. I’m moving to Montana permanently.”
Diane’s pen stopped. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m restructuring my career. Smaller venues, acoustic sets, more control over the schedule. I want to build a home studio and record from here.”
“From Montana?” Diane looked at Reid like he might have kidnapped Cody.
“Montana,” Cody confirmed. “I’m going to focus on the music. Not the fame, not the machine. Just honest songwriting and intimate performances.”
“Do you understand what you’re walking away from? The arena tours alone bring in—”
“I know exactly what I’m walking away from,” Cody said quietly. “And I’m okay with it. My mental health is more important than money.”
Diane was silent for a moment, processing. Then she set down her pen. “Okay. I’ll do what I can to renegotiate the contracts. This is actually a compelling narrative—famous musician chooses authenticity and privacy over fame. We can work with this.”
Over the next hour, they worked through details. Diane, after her initial shock, came on board. She saw the potential in Cody’s new direction—raw, authentic music from a country superstar gone indie.
After she left, Reid pulled Cody onto the couch.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Reid said. “Restructure everything. I would have made it work if you wanted to keep your career the way it was.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to.” Cody settled against Reid’s chest, his fingers tracing where the bite mark on his neck had been.
The mark had long since healed and wasn’t visible anymore, but when Cody brushed his finger over his skin there, it was as if he could still feel it. He hoped he always would.
“I’ve spent years living a life that didn’t fit.
The music, the fame, the money, it gave me so much, and I’m grateful for it, but it was also an incredibly lonely life.
And now I have the chance to build something here that’s real.
With you. That’s not a sacrifice, Reid. That’s a choice I’m making because it’s what I want, and it’s where I want to be. With you.”
Reid’s arms tightened around him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” Cody tilted his head up for a kiss—soft and sweet and perfect.
Through the bond, he felt Reid’s heart settle into the same rhythm as his own and he sighed happily. Home.