Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Jaxon
I begged Izzy to hang out with me tonight. I know she had a long day dress shopping with her sisters, but I need her. I cannot, in fact, finish this song that I promised to have to the foundation CEO by Tuesday morning without her.
So here I am, at her house once again.
Becca’s wedged into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked under her, eyes locked on the TV. Izzy’s sprawled out beside her, laughing so hard she nearly drops the sparkling water she’s drinking.
“That’s clearly not a cake!” Becca yells. “Cakes don’t shine like that!”
“You can make frosting shine,” Izzy argues back. “You saw what that woman did last week. It was pure magic.”
On the screen, some man wields a large knife and cuts through the shiny cake. Both women lose it.
I laugh too, though mine feels different—weaker. Watching them together does something to me. Izzy’s at ease here, her body loose, her smile unguarded. Becca nudges her with an elbow, muttering something I can’t hear, and Izzy tilts her head back, laughing even harder.
For a second, it stings.
Not because I don’t want Izzy to have this—she deserves amazing friends, deserves nights like this—but because a voice I’ve been ignoring for fifteen years whispers, this could’ve been you.
If I’d stayed in Wild Bluffs, maybe it would be. Maybe I’d be the one sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Izzy on that couch. Maybe I’d be the one she leaned into when she laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe. Maybe I’d be her best friend—Hell, maybe more.
I shove that voice down, hard. Remind myself I left for a reason. Remind myself that everything I’ve built—every song, every album, every company—exists because I walked away.
And if I’d stayed, I don’t know if I ever would’ve looked at Izzy as anything more than a friend.
I’m certainly not looking at her like that now.
Izzy catches me staring. Her cheeks are pink from laughing, her hair a little wild. “What?” she asks, like she can feel me unraveling.
“Nothing,” I blurt out, dropping my attention back to my guitar and the notebook in front of me. The words blur. My chest aches.
Because it’s not nothing. It’s a hundred moments I’ll never get back.
That dull pain of memories not made is apparently the exact feeling my brain was missing because all of a sudden, the words are flowing, the melody aligning perfectly. I rework the few lines and build out the bridge, tying together loss with momentum, change with comfort.
***
Fourteen hours later, I’ve got something great.
“Yes!” I yell as I jump up from the couch. Sure, I’m alone in my dad’s living room, but I just finished the song for the Lupus Foundation.
It’s almost like I’m back.
It might not be a song I’ll ever record—my manager likes to remind me that I have a specific sound that must be adhered to—but it’s going to be huge for the foundation. I know it will.
I pull up the video I just recorded on my phone and send it to Andre and Annie. They might gloat, but in the end, they were right: I needed to come back to Wild Bluffs.
Five minutes later, my phone rings.
“Hell yes!” Andre exclaims when I answer. “That song was…well, let’s just say Annie is taking a minute to dry her eyes in the bathroom.”
“I told you Iz brought the music back,” I say as I mindlessly strum my guitar. “It feels so good to finally be able to write again.”
“I’m sure it does, but that song—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “Henry is going to recommend I don’t record it myself. I was thinking I could convince Blake Morgan to record it for the foundation. He’s much more known for those vibes. It just feels so good to know I haven’t lost it. That this isn’t the end of my career.”
“Good God,” Andre says. “Did you think it was? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“We were all thinking it. You spent almost thirty minutes last week telling me how pissed the label is that they still don’t have another album.”
“No, I never thought it was over, just wasn’t sure how to snap you out of your funk.
But that also wasn’t what I was going to say about the song.
It’s amazing, Jaxon. You’ve always been talented, but those lyrics?
They’re going to haunt me until the day I die, and then I want them put on my headstone. ”
I laugh. “Which ones?”
“I used to think that goodbye was the end, but I see you in the sunrise again and again.”
“Right? That’s the part that came to me last night. It changed the whole song, but it also brought it all together.”
“It’s really good. I’ll get your video sent over to Alex at the foundation as well as to Henry so he and the folks at SevenFour Entertainment can start planning what we’re going to do with it. You know what they’re going to ask though, don’t you?”
“When am I going to have enough for a whole album?”
“Yup,” he says. “That and, if they decide they want you to perform this one, when can you be in the recording studio. It’ll be nice to have something to offer them after the last year. They’re…not happy, Jaxon.”
Fuck. Of course, my label isn’t happy with me. I know that. I’ve known that. How can they not be annoyed that I haven’t done anything worthwhile in the last year? And an unhappy label is never a good thing—especially when they own every song you’ve ever recorded.
“I’ve already got a second song I’m working on,” I say, thinking of the stack of napkins from my first official fake date with Izzy.
“So I feel confident I can have an album ready for the fall. I don’t know about getting into a recording studio, though.
I don’t think I can uphold my end of the fake-dating bargain if I’m gone. ”
“You could consider just dating her for real,” Andre offers after a long pause.
“I regret telling you any portion of this.”
“Aren’t you hanging out regularly while thinking about how to give her orgasms?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds a lot like dating to me,” Andre says.
“Dating would suggest some kind of feelings, and if I’m lucky, she sees me as a friend. Worst-case scenario, she can’t stand me and is just hiding it to try to get a date for her sister’s wedding out of the deal.”
“I think you’re wrong, but as your employee, I guess I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I joke, wondering if he’s right. If we’re dating and just calling it fake.
“And how is collecting your mom’s stuff going?
” Andre asks, clearly back to his checklist of items to cover with me.
“Have you finished your dad’s room? I pushed the movers back now that you’re definitely staying for the wedding, but the sale is the following Monday.
We need to have the house packed up before that’s finalized. ”
“I’m not quite finished,” I say, my eyes moving without my consent to the corner of the ceiling where my dad’s room sits upstairs.
“You haven’t started, have you?”
“Haven’t even opened the door,” I say.
“Just rip the bandage off,” Andre suggests. “I’ll stay on the line. Just walk upstairs and open the door.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll get to it. Tomorrow maybe. Or after Thursday. Maybe my plan will work, and I’ll be riding a post-Izzy-orgasm high.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Andre asks.
“Likely because you know me too well.”
Andre laughs, and we finalize a few more work things before hanging up.
Knowing Andre isn’t wrong about my dad’s room, I head upstairs, mentally preparing myself to open the door. That’s all I need to do—just open the door. I don’t even have to look in. I can just turn the handle, push the door a bit, and then leave. That’s manageable.
I reach the top, the wood giving way to the gray carpet, and I stop at the door. Just push it open. That’s all I have to do. Wrap my fingers around the doorknob and twist.
But nothing happens.
Tomorrow.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
Or maybe Thursday night.
Thursday night. Shit. I’m excited for it.
Last week might not have gone according to plan, but now that I’ve gotten a taste for it, I don’t want to let Izzy down.
So, I’ve been planning. And, yeah, I brought Andre into my scheming, but I needed his help to make sure I’m thinking through this and not getting caught up in my preconceived notions.
It was the right decision. Even if I’m a little worried about telling Izzy that Andre knows.
If this week isn’t a success, Andre even looked into a sex therapist he can call and ask some questions. I would do it myself, but on the off chance someone recognizes my voice, it’s not a risk I can take.