19. Bailey
bailey
. . .
The tour comes to an end and I am unsure how to feel about it.
A final encore. A final wave. The slow exhale of a bus pulling away from a venue that had once felt like oxygen.
The ride is quiet for the first time this month.
I sit sideways on the couch, knees tucked up, notebook open but untouched, listening to the hum of the road.
I must have zoned out, because suddenly we are at our destination and the murmur of voices fading as people peel off one by one.
Jackson is the last to leave the bus. He pauses at the door, hand on the rail, looking back at me like he knows this part matters too.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod, not really sure what to say.
He looks like he wants to say something, his dark eyes studying me, but then something shifts and he looks away before saying, “Let me know if you need anything.”
Then he’s gone.
We’ve finished writing for now. The songs are there. Rough, alive, and waiting. They’ll be recorded soon. Rachel has already started locking in studio time, producers, schedules that make my head spin.
Momentum wants to keep going, but I am not sure if that is what I want.
In the car with Rachel, I press my forehead to the cool glass of the window and watch city lights blur past, thinking about home.
Home isn’t neutral anymore. Home is the Carter house with the porch light that always stays on. It’s Rose’s kitchen table and Thomas’s quiet nods. It’s Noah’s boots by the door and the echo of Luke’s laughter in places it doesn’t belong anymore.
Home is a memory.
Home is sitting still long enough for everything I’ve outrun to catch up.
I’ve been good at not stopping. But I can feel it now, the pull. The need to land somewhere that isn’t a stage or a hotel room or a borrowed version of myself.
Rachel sits beside me, laptop open, calendar glowing with blocks of colour.
“The album will need a solid recording window,” she says gently. “Not rushed. You’ve earned that.”
I nod, absently.
“And the label is circling,” she adds. “They want another contract on the table before the year’s out.”
Of course they do.
I stare at my hands. “I don’t know what I want yet.”
She doesn’t push. That’s why I trust her.
“Okay,” she says. “Then we pause. Nothing gets locked in without you catching your breath first."
My phone buzzes and a name that makes me smile lights up my screen.
Sadie.
Her face fills the screen, and my chest loosens. But then I really look at her, she looks tired, and pale. There’s a shadow under her eyes that makes me sit up straighter.
“Hey,” I say softly. “How are you feeling?”
She smiles, but it’s thinner than usual. “I’m fine. Just… pregnancy stuff. You know.”
I don’t really, but I nod anyway.
We talk about small things. The weather.
The leaves are officially turning. Cole tries to convince her that orange counts as a neutral because it’s fall.
She wants him to go to his friend, the groomsman, Adam’s pub opening in November, but he seems content to be glued to her side and doesn’t want to go, which feels odd.
But I am tired and overwhelmed and I get wanting to hide away from the world.
And I can picture Cole wanting to live in their pre-baby bubble.
Then she asks, carefully. “When are you coming home?”
I hesitate.
“I’m just… working out travel plans,” I say. “There’s some studio scheduling we’re trying to finalize.”
Her face brightens instantly. “Oh! Then you should know, Cole and Noah have been working on your space.”
“My… space?”
“The studio,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Your oasis. They’ve been working on it non-stop. Soundproofing. New equipment. Noah said it’s almost ready.”
My throat tightens, because I didn’t ask for that, but they did it anyway.
“I think you’re going to love it,” she adds. “A space that is yours.”
We hang up a few minutes later, and I sit there, phone warm in my hand, heart thudding.
What do I want?
The question feels dangerous now that I’m letting it surface. The label wants more. The industry wants momentum. There’s a version of my life where I keep going, keep shining, keep becoming something bigger and louder until there’s no room left to feel anything at all. And then there’s home.
I am just walking into my hotel room when my phone lights up again. I smile, expecting Sadie. But it’s Cole.
That’s when my stomach drops.
I answer immediately. “Hey.”
His voice is tight, when he says, “Bailey, you need to come home.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a pause. Just long enough to tell me everything.
“Sadie needs you,” he says. “We need you. I… ”
“Okay,” I say, already moving. “I’m coming.”
I don’t ask questions. I turn to Rachel, who’s watching my face closely now.
“I need to go home,” I say. “We need to hold the recording schedule. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
She nods without hesitation. “I’ll handle it.”
I grab my things and Rachel follows organizing my travel plans.
Home is going to hurt.
Home is going to crack things open. I've carefully kept sealed. But my sister needs me.
And whatever I’m becoming, whatever I choose… It starts there.