7. Chapter Seven #3
I stand in the control room behind Damon, my notebook clutched against my ribs. Cruz sprawls in a chair by the wall, one ankle hooked over his knee. Jax leans against the wall, arms folded. Jett stands by the console.
Phoenix is the only one behind the glass. Headphones on. Black hair falling into his eyes. His mouth too close to the mic.
The engineer gives him the cue.
The track starts and for a second, only the low pulse of a guitar and the soft scrape of Phoenix’s inhale remain. Then he sings.
His voice comes out rough and intimate, dragging the room along with it.
When he gets to that line, my fingers tighten around my notebook.
Phoenix stares straight through the glass at me.
“You looked prettier cruel than you ever did kind.”
The line leaves his mouth in a low rasp and my whole body goes still.
It seems like he is singing it to me and everyone is aware of it.
Cruz shifts in his chair. I feel Jax and Jett’s gazes turn towards me. I sense the weight of it without turning my head.
The next line comes out lower, rougher, threaded with something that makes my pulse trip hard against my ribs. He doesn’t glance down at the lyric sheet or close his eyes the way he does when he wants everyone to think the song has swallowed him whole.
Instead, he just watches me.
My heart starts beating faster. It hits too hard and too fast, in a stupid, traitorous rhythm that closes my throat around everything I refuse to ever say.
Phoenix sings the rest of the verse. Every word drags over me. Every breath between lines seems intentional. His eyes stay locked on mine, intense enough to blur the edges of the room. By the time he reaches the end of the verse, I have forgotten how to breathe normally.
Nobody speaks when the recording ends.
The last note hangs in the booth, thin and trembling, until even that gives out. The room holds the shape of the song long after the sound has gone.
Damon is the first to break the silence. “That one is a hit.”
He presses the talkback. “That’s enough for tonight. We’ll clean the edit tomorrow.”
Phoenix takes off his headphones, but his gaze never leaves mine.
I turn and walk out before he enters the control room.
I push through the door into the hallway and the colder air hits my face hard enough to make me gasp.
I make it halfway to the building’s exit before Cruz catches up with me.
“Running away, Songbird?”
“Maybe.”
“From Damon or Phoenix?”
“Maybe both.”
His grin appears out of habit, but it fades around the edges. “Are you okay?”
I glance at him. “I’m fine.”
He pushes the exit door open with his shoulder and holds it for me to walk through.
“You know, you can tell Damon to go fuck himself sometimes.”
“I do.”
“Not with enough commitment.”
“Then I’ll add it to tomorrow’s schedule.”
A low laugh escapes him and vanishes into the night. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Songbird.”
Cruz heads toward his car just as my phone rings. Dad’s name lights up the screen.
I answer as I walk toward my car. “Hi, Dad.”
“Willow.” His voice is warm. “Are you busy?”
“No, I’m just leaving the studio.”
“At this hour?”
I unlock my car, but don’t get in just yet. Instead, I stand beside it, my hand on the door handle, the cool night air pressing against my face. “It’s not that late.”
“It is for people who sleep.”
“Good thing I have never claimed to be people.”
He huffs a laugh, but it fades too quickly. “Your mother is worried.”
My body stiffens. “About what?”
“She said you sounded tired when you called yesterday.”
“I was tired yesterday.”
“And what about today?” He asks.
I look back toward the studio, toward the glow seeping from the exit doors and the muffled noise still trapped inside. “I’m fine, Dad.”
Dad goes quiet for a moment. The kind of quiet parents use when deciding how much truth they can say before you hang up on them.
“You know you can come home for a few days,” he says gently. “Let your mom look after you for once. Sleep properly. Eat something that didn’t come out from a paper bag.”
Something hot pushes up behind my ribs and I shut my eyes.
“I am not a child, Dad.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You kind of did.”
“No, I said you sound tired.”
“And tired means I need to come home so Mom can feed me and tuck me in?”
“That is not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what you meant.”
He lets out a slow breath. “Your mother is worried.”
“Well, tell Mom she doesn’t need to be.”
“She loves you.”
I open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat, phone pressed hard to my ear.
“I’m just tired,” I say.
Dad’s voice softens. “Then rest, Willa-girl.”
“I will.”
“And possibly come home for a night or two. No fuss. Your room is still there.”
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Outside, the studio door opens and Phoenix, Jax, and Jett walk out. Jett unlocks his car, and the three of them climb in.
Dad’s voice comes through the phone. “I just miss you, love.”
The fight inside me falters. I stare through the windshield as Jett’s car pulls away from the parking lot.
“Yeah, I miss you guys too,” I whisper. “I will rest. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, Willa-girl.”
The call ends, but I keep the phone against my ear for a few seconds longer.