Chapter Twenty-Five
Jack
I wake up with what feels like an elephant on my chest. I open my eyes, a little panicked, only to see a pink nose and yellow eyes inches from my face. Max . I groan, trying to shift under the weight of the cat, but he’s surprisingly heavy for a cat. “Really, Max? You’re not even gonna let me wake up first?”
Max just blinks at me, unimpressed, as if he’s the one who’s been wronged here. I gently nudge him off me and sit up, rubbing my face.
I glance over at her. She’s still asleep, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her face peaceful. She looks so different like this—more vulnerable. I’m not mad at her. She’s been trying to save her parents from hearing the news of her marriage.
She wakes up, sees me watching her and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Thank you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “For?”
“For understanding. For staying the night. For not treating me like a pariah.”
“You’re not a pariah. You’re young. We all do dumb shit. I’m told we’re supposed to.”
She smiles. “Well, I hope this is my last big mistake for a while.”
“I’m going to go. Aggie is going to have a little something to say about me not playing last night.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to keep you from performing.”
“It was my choice. But I’m going to play my heart out tonight. I’m going to get enough money for your lawyer to do his damn job.”
“I wish I could be there.”
“Sneak in,” I tell her. “I’ve got a song burning in the back of my brain. I can feel it. Hear it. I need my guitar.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks. “What’s it about?”
I flash a grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Tease.”
I bend down and drop a kiss on her lips. “Just a little.”
I get out of bed and pull on my jeans while she watches me. “You’re a good guy, Jack.”
“I hope so, because you only deserve the best guy.”
I give her another kiss before walking out into the perfect morning. I’ve got the song in my head and it’s demanding to get out. Rarely do I have a whole song composed and written in my head. When that happens, it’s like being hit by lightning. That’s what this feels like.
When I get home, Aggie’s on the porch, gently rocking in her chair. She’s got her usual cup of coffee in hand.
“Out all night again, I see.”
She’s smiling.
I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, well—”
“Save it.” She grins, sipping her coffee. “I’m happy for you two.”
“Thanks, Aggie. I’m sorry I didn’t go in last night.”
She waves a hand. “It’s fine. I don’t expect you to play every night. It keeps the customers guessing. How is everything with my niece?”
I wish I could tell her, but it’s not my secret to tell. “Good,” I say.
She nods, a knowing smile on her lips. “Good. That’s very good.”
“I’ve got a song I need to iron out,” I tell her.
“You look like a man ready to burst.”
“Aggie, I need to make as many tips as possible tonight.” I lean against the railing. “It’s important. I can’t tell you why, but I need I promise you it’s not for nothing. I’m not going to blow it. Can you help?”
She looks thoughtful. “I’ll make a special drink—’The Heartbreaker.’ A dollar from every drink sold goes straight to your jar.”
I grin. “Perfect. Thank you! I promise, it’ll be put to good use.”
“I’m counting on it,” she says.
I rush into my room. I grab my guitar and settle on the bed, flipping through my notebook until I find the song I started for Jinnie weeks ago. It was good, but I’m about to make it better. That’s the good thing about not being a signed artist. I can do whatever I want with my songs—including changing up the lyrics.
I liked the song before, but it always felt unfinished. I scribble on the paper, the melody bouncing around in my head.
The words flow easier now, the melody softening into something sweeter, more hopeful. It’s so much better than the first run. I play through the song once. I cringe. It’s not what I hear in my head. Not yet.
I strum a few more chords, adjusting the tempo, trying to match the rhythm that’s been playing in my mind since last night. The lyrics feel raw, honest—like they’re finally saying what I’ve been too scared to put into words. I scribble down a few more lines, crossing out others that don’t feel right.
By the time Aggie knocks on my door to tell me dinner’s ready, I’ve got the bones of the song down. It’s not perfect—not yet—but it’s close. I set the guitar aside and head to the kitchen, where Aggie’s dishing up a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
“You look like you’ve been wrestling with something,” she says, sliding the plate across the counter.
“Just figuring some things out,” I say.
“You’ve been strumming in there all day.”
“This song is important,” I tell her. “It matters.”
She smiles softly. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“I hope it’s as good as I think it is,” I admit with a laugh.
“Oh, you know it will be.”
She finishes her dinner. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“I’ll be there,” I tell her.
After she leaves, I start practicing once again. I’ve played it through a dozen times, tweaking chords and lyrics until my fingers ache. This is it. This is the song it was always supposed to be. I clean up the kitchen and hop in the shower. I hope Jinnie will be there tonight, but I know it’s not easy for her to get into the bar.
Tonight’s going to be special.
I want Jinnie there.
The Hollow Log is packed before I even step on stage. Aggie put out the word that tonight was going to be bigger than ever. That woman is too good to me.
Every table is full, the bar three-deep with people ordering Aggie’s “Heartbreaker” special. She winks at me from behind the counter, already stacking bills in my tip jar. She doesn’t know what the money is for, which makes it even more special. She’s just taking my word for it. She trusts me to do something important with the money.
I hope Jinnie will tell her the truth one day, but even if she doesn’t, that’s okay. I’ll know I used the money for something good. I step on the stage, my usual tea and water with me. I take a few seconds to tune the guitar and adjust the mic stand.
The crowd tonight feels a little more subdued. Not bored, but this isn’t the typical weekend people who are feeling rowdy. That works for me. I’ll save my vocals and play to the mood.
I sit down and strum the guitar until I have the attention of the crowd. There’s still some light conversation as people enjoy their drinks. I start with some of my usual songs. The crowd is warming up. And I’m stalling. I really want Jinnie to show up.
Then I see her—Jinnie, sitting front and center. She’s wearing a little extra makeup and wearing a skirt that makes me think about those beautiful legs wrapped around me. I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to look older. I don’t know if she looks older, but she sure as hell looks sexier.
I grin at her and take my seat on the stool. “Some of you guys have heard this before, but it never felt quite right. I wrote this song for someone special. I tweaked it, and now it’s exactly what I want it to be.”
Her breath catches when I start playing, the opening chords soft and intimate. I look directly into her eyes. The room quiets as I sing—about mistakes and fresh starts, about finding someone who sees the cracks in you and doesn’t look away.
Jinnie’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. Her fingers press to her lips as if she’s trying to stop herself from singing along. The song builds, the chorus swelling into something bold and hopeful. I pour my whole damn heart into it.
This is why I play. Not for fame, not for revenge. For moments like this—for connection, for the way music can say what words alone can’t. This song is for her. It’s to benefit her, and that feels better than a million people shouting my name.
The last note fades into thunderous applause. Jinnie’s on her feet, clapping harder than anyone.
The rest of the set flies by in a blur of chords and cheers. By the end, my tip jar is overflowing. Aggie’s already replaced it twice to make sure no one get sticky fingers.
Aggie gives me a thumbs-up from the bar when the crowd shouts for an encore.
I play another song before raising my hand and calling it a night.
I have no doubt in my mind Jinnie has enough for her lawyer now.
We leave together to go back to her house.
“That song...” She shakes her head. “Jack, it was beautiful.”
I squeeze her fingers. “Just the truth.”
“You’re not what I expected,” she says.
“Good.”
We get back to her place and go inside. She gets me a cold soda from the fridge and sits beside me. I eagerly gulp the drink, letting the cold liquid soothe my throat. My arm naturally goes around her as she leans against me.
“I think I’m falling for you,” she says softly.
“I know I’m falling for you.”
“What now?”
“Now we figure it out.”
* * *
J INNIE’S PHONE BUZZES on the nightstand, shattering the quiet of the morning. Jinnie stirs beside me.
“What was that?” she mutters.
“Your phone.”
I don’t want to open my eyes. I just know the sunlight is going to be streaming in.
She groans, reaching for it. “Who texts at six in the morning?”
She grabs the phone, and with one eye, she studies the screen. “Oh shit,” she whispers.
I sit up. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a message from my lawyer. Sam is in town. He’s contesting the annulment.”
THE END