28. Bailey
bailey
. . .
Sadie’s laugh floats through the open studio door as Rachel and I walk down the slope, the gravel crunching under our boots. For a second I stop outside the building and just listen to it. That sound has become my compass. If Sadie is laughing, the world hasn’t ended yet.
I step into the studio, that still smells new.
Fresh wood, lingering paint and the scent of new electronics.
Guitars leaning along one wall, cables snaking across the floor toward the console Cory is already hunched over.
The big windows look out over the property, the orchard rolling down the hill in a patchwork of gold and red.
Sadie is perched on the edge of one of the big armchairs like she’s watching a movie she’s been waiting years to see.
Jackson is standing near one of the mics with a guitar slung low across his chest, talking with Gary.
Rhett is pacing in a loose circle, hat tipped back, humming something under his breath like a man trying to trap a melody before it escapes.
Jackson glances up when I walk in.
“Perfect timing,” he says.
Sadie beams at me. “You missed Jackson explaining microphone science.”
I shrug out of my jacket and hang it over the back of a chair. “That is tragic.”
Jackson grins. “I think we should start with No Place I’d Rather Be.”
I feel all eyes on me. He rests the guitar against his thigh.
“It’s already got momentum,” he continues. “Fans know the story behind it. If we release it early as a single it’ll pull a lot of attention.”
Gary nods from behind the console.
“And the artists from the bus sessions?” I ask.
Jackson shrugs slightly. “They’ve agreed to send in recordings and video clips for the teasers. Everyone wants in.”
Sadie bounces a little in her seat. “I still can’t believe that song came out of one chaotic night on a tour bus.”
Jackson smirks. “That’s usually where the best ones happen.” He glances over at Rhett. “And we don’t know how long we have this guy before the internet realizes he disappeared.”
Rhett clears his throat suddenly. The sound cuts through the room. For a man who fills stadiums without blinking, he suddenly looks… almost sheepish.
“I uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I actually wrote something.”
Jackson raises an eyebrow. “For?”
Rhett looks directly at me. “For you.”
I blink. “You did?”
He nods once. “Yeah. For this album. If you want it.”
He shifts his weight like he’s suddenly aware of every person in the room.
“I love your voice,” he says. “And I thought… maybe we push you a little outside of your comfort zone.”
Jackson leans against the piano watching the exchange with quiet amusement.
Rhett continues, words coming faster now. “A little edgier than your usual stuff. Something playful but with grit. Something that could hit country and pop but maybe… rock too.”
Sadie gasps softly behind me and I laugh under my breath.
“You brought it with you?”
Rhett reaches into his bag and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. “Always.” He holds it out, with a tentative shrug. “I only write on paper.”
The page is worn at the folds, pencil marks scrawled across it in a messy hand. I take it and the lyrics jump off the page immediately. Sharp, flirty and bold. Nothing like the music everyone expects from me. My eyebrows lift slightly as I read.
It’s cheeky and confident.
A woman shedding something heavy and stepping into something reckless and alive.
I glance up at him. Rhett shrugs, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.
“Listen… I don’t want to pry.” He gestures vaguely.
“And you don’t know me.” I wait, for I’m to continue and he does, “But if even half the shit the internet is saying is true…” he laughs, “…then Luke is a fucking idiot.” Sadie snorts and Rhett keeps going.
“And you might want a song where you shed that old skin and have a little fun.”
The room is quiet. Jackson is watching me carefully now. I look back down at the page. The chorus is ridiculous in the best possible way. Old me would have never given this song a second look. I feel something small and electric spark in my chest.
“Are you going to sing it with me?” I ask.
Rhett’s head snaps up. “What?”
“The second verse,” I say, tapping the page. “It reads like a duet. Maybe even the whole song”
He blinks. “You want me on it?”
“If you’re offering me rock radio,” I reply, “you’re not getting away that easily.”
He laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’d do that.”
He suddenly looks a little nervous. Which is funny. Because standing between Jackson Reed and Rhett Hayes, I’m the one who should feel like the small fish in the ocean. Instead they’re both watching me. Jackson finally claps his hands once. “Well,” he says. “Let’s make some noise.”
The first chord of ‘No Place I’d Rather Be’ fills the room.
Jackson stands beside me at the mic, guitar resting against his hip. “Ready?” he murmurs.
I nod. The words feel different now. Not like the first time they broke my heart. Or when Rhett first suggested them as a song. Not like the night the internet turned them into a war cry.
Now they feel like something bigger… lighter.
Jackson glances toward the control room. “We’ll need to get Bailey’s full vocal,” he says. “Then we layer everyone else. Megan already said she wants a pass at the second verse. Rhett, you might steal the bridge if you behave.”
Rhett tips his hat. “No promises.”
Jackson grins and strums again. The opening chords hum through the room.
Then he starts. “I’ve stood on a thousand stages. Under every kind of light…” His voice is warm and steady, laying the track down like he’s opening a road.
I step into the next line without thinking. “Sang through heartbreak, sang through healing
Sang through every lonely night…”
Behind the glass Cory and Tim lean forward. Gary’s fingers hover above the console.
Sadie’s hand presses against her stomach as she listens, her eyes bright.
Jackson nods slightly for me to keep going.
“But somewhere in the noise and neon
When the world felt far from me…”
My voice grows as the words settle into the room.
“I saw your hands up in the darkness
Like a lighthouse in the sea.”
Jackson leans closer to the mic beside me. His harmony slides under mine when we hit the pre-chorus. “When my voice was shaking…”
I close my eyes.
“You sang every word…”
Jackson joins. “When the world got louder
You were the loudest heard.”
The guitar lifts slightly and we move into the chorus together.
“There’s no place I’d rather be
Than right here where you’re with me…”
The sound fills the studio and Sadie’s mouth falls open slightly. Gary looks up from the board like he just watched lightning hit.
Jackson’s voice rises with mine. “Every voice, every heart, every memory
Lighting up this melody…”
By the time we reach the last line Cory throws his fist into the air behind the console. “That’s the one!”
Rhett whistles from the couch. “Okay Brooks.”
Jackson just smiles. “Again,” he says, nodding toward the console.
Then he gestures toward Rhett to join us.
Rhett lifts both hands. “I suddenly feel a lot of pressure.”
Jackson laughs. “You should… You are singing with Bailey Brooks.”
The guitar starts again. I smile wide, and we do it all over.
The studio looks different tonight. Not the bright working space we’ve been living in all week.
Tim dimmed the overhead lights and someone, probably Sadie, lined the window ledges with candles. Their reflections flicker across the glass and the polished wood floor, turning the room warm and golden. It feels less like work. More like a secret.
Rhett stands across from me at the mic, a baseball cap turned backwards, sleeves on his white henley rolled up.
There’s only one microphone between us. He said he wanted to try it old-school, where artists weren't layered over each other, where they stood face to face and sang in the same moment. The kind of moment you lean into. The kind that makes you sing with someone.
Jackson leans against the console with his arms folded, watching. Noah stands just behind him. Sadie is curled up on the coach with Cole and even Rose and Thomas are in the control room.
“Rolling,” Brandy calls from behind the glass. Rachel called her in after Jackson convinced her to lean into the internet buzz. They want to video this entire session so we could use it for PR.
Rhett glances at me. “You ready, Brooks?”
I shrug, but I’m already smiling.
“Wait.” Jackson says. Then he looks almost sheepish for a second when he asks… “Do… Do you have anything under that sweater?”
Rhett snorts and my cheeks flush, but I look down at myself and think about what we are about to do, what I am supposed to be conveying and feeling.
I have my mess of blonde hair in a top knot, a fuzzy sweater and jeans.
I blow out a breath and then walk to the control room, pull off my sweater, leaving me in a tight cropped shirt and hand it to Sadie who has the biggest grin on her face. I pull the elastic from my hair and slip it in my pocket, running my fingers through my waves.
“Ohhh you gotta toss it around Bailey! Go for big, messy, rode hard and put away wet, kind of hair.”
Rose chokes on her drink as I gasp… “Sadie.”
Cole is trying his hardest to not to laugh.
“What?” She asks. “You are a hot twenty five year old woman, not a nun.”
I blow out a breath, trying to steady my shaky hands. I have been on stage in far more revealing outfits but somehow this feels more intimate. I toss my head forward, mess up my hair and then flip it back up.
“Should…” My voice almost croaks, “Should I put on makeup?”
Before Sadie can answer Rhett says “No” at the same time as Jackson growls “Don’t you dare.”
I can feel the blush creep up my neck.
Noah is chuckling behind Jackson, so I walk up to him, steal his drink and take a big swig, then march back into the recording room with as much confidence I can muster. As I walk past Rhett I whisper, “Ask me again.”
He looks confused for just one second but then a wicked grin spreads across his face. His blue eyes twinkling. “You ready, Brooks?”
“Try to keep up.” I answer with a wink.
Rhett laughs and the guitar riff kicks in. It’s not polished yet. We said we’d try the vocals and guitar a few different ways to see what felt right. But it's got enough edge to make the room hum.
Rhett nods once and starts the first line. “You say I look a little different
Like the storm rolled through my hair…”
His voice has that gravel in it that made half the country fall in love with him.
When he slides into the next line he tips his chin toward me.
My turn.
“Maybe I got tired of waiting
For a ghost to come back home…”
The words hit differently out loud. Not sad or angry. Just… done.
Rhett grins when we hit the pre-chorus. The energy in the room lifts like a switch flipped somewhere.
Then the chorus hits.
“So turn it up, let the speakers break
Let the midnight make its mistakes…”
I step closer to the mic without thinking. Rhett leans in too. His baby blues are sparkling as winks at me. The sound fills the room. An energy crackling.
“I’m a little louder, a little unchained
A little reckless in the best damn way…”
Something in me shakes loose.
Maybe it’s the candles, or the ridiculous grin Rhett keeps throwing at me. Could be the cider I stole from Noah. Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in months I’m not sitting in my heartbreak.
I laugh during a musical break. A real one. The kind that bubbles out before I can stop it.
Rhett points at me. “You’re dancing.”
“I am not.” I huff.
“You absolutely are.”
He’s right, my hips sway a little as the guitar keeps rolling. Behind the glass Jackson straightens suddenly.
“Tim,” he says quietly.
Tim looks up from the board. “Yeah?”
“Keep the giggle.”
Tim grins. “Oh I am.”
The bridge rolls in and Rhett turns toward me again.
“Let the highway lights burn through the dark…”
I step in closer, I can feel the heat coming off of him.
“Let the world hear the beat of a healing heart…”
The harmony lands between us perfectly. When the final chorus hits we both lean into the mic like we’re sharing the same breath.
“I’m a little louder, a little unchained
A little reckless in the best damn way…”
By the last line we’re both laughing. The track fades out and silence hangs for a second.
Then Tim’s voice bursts through the speakers. “Holy shit.”
Cory whistles and Rhett points at the glass, demanding, “That giggle better stay. And I want those little hip wiggles in the music video.”
Jackson just smiles. “I told you,” he says.
And for a moment, standing in a candlelit studio with music still humming in the air, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Light.