Chapter 8
Cole didn’t come home in two weeks.
The label needed them in Nashville early. Studio time had opened up. It was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up.
Cole: Just one more week. I’m so sorry.
One week became two when the producer wanted to re-cut vocals.
I stopped answering his calls.
Not out of anger. Out of self-preservation. Because every time I heard his voice, every excuse that was valid, real, and understandable, it hurt a little more.
Eli found me in my office, staring at nothing. “He called me.”
“Of course he did.”
“He’s worried about you. Says you won’t talk to him.”
“What’s the point? He’s busy. I’m busy. We’re living separate lives.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
I looked at Eli, my best friend, the person who knew me better than anyone. “I can’t do this anymore. The waiting and wondering. The feeling like I’m competing with his entire career for scraps of his attention.”
“He loves you.”
“I know, but love isn’t enough when you never see each other. When every plan falls through. When I’m sitting here alone while he’s…” My voice broke. “While he’s living his dream and I’m just the girl waiting by the phone.”
“That’s not fair to either of you.”
“Maybe not. But it’s true.”
My phone buzzed. Cole. Again.
I let it go to voicemail.
Three days later, a package arrived at the rescue.
Inside: a first pressing of vinyl. The album they’d recorded. On the cover, Cole and the band, professional, polished, and completely removed from the man I’d fallen for in a green room in Asheville.
A note fell out:
This is for you. Every song. Every word. You’re in all of it. Please don’t give up on us. I’ll be home in three days. Let me prove we can make this work. I love you. -C
I held the vinyl, staring at his face, and knew I had to make a decision.
That night, Jess sat on my couch while I held the album in my lap.
“Are you going to listen to it?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
“Because if it’s everything he says it is, then I’ll know letting him go is the right choice.” I traced the album cover with my finger. “And if it’s not, then I’ll know I gave up everything for someone who wasn’t all in.”
“You didn’t give up anything. You’re still here. The rescue’s still running.”
“But I’m miserable, Jess. I go to bed wondering if he’s thinking about me. I’m living half a life waiting for someone who can’t give me what I need.”
“What do you need?”
“Presence.” The word came out rough. “Someone who’s actually here. Not just in theory or over FaceTime, but here. Choosing me every day, not just when it’s convenient.”
“Have you told Cole that?”
“He knows.”
“Does he? Because from what I’ve seen, you’ve been pulling away for weeks without actually telling him what you need to stay.”
“It won’t matter. He can’t change his schedule. The label owns him now.”
“You’re protecting yourself by pulling away before he can hurt you worse.” Jess moved closer, took my hand. “Autumn, I love you. You know that. But you’re doing the same thing you did with Marcus. You’re making yourself smaller, convincing yourself you don’t deserve to ask for what you need.”
“This is different.”
“Is it? Because it looks the same from here. You’re sacrificing your happiness, deciding for both of you it won’t work, instead of fighting for what you want.”
“I’m tired of fighting.”
“Then rest. But don’t quit.” She squeezed my hand. “Cole’s coming home in three days. Talk to him. Tell him what you need. Let him decide if he can give it to you. But don’t make the choice for him.”
“What if he can’t?”
“Then you’ll know. And you can move on with a clear conscience.” She paused. “But what if you’re throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you because you’re too scared to be vulnerable?”
I didn’t have an answer.
After Jess left, I put the vinyl on my turntable.
The first song started—a slow build of guitar and Cole’s voice, raw and honest.
“I found you in a crowded room
Wasn’t looking, didn’t expect
But there you were
And suddenly I couldn’t breathe.”
My chest tightened.
“You don’t see what I see
When you look in the mirror
All the beauty, all the strength
All the reasons I fell so fast.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“But you’re scared
And I get it, I’m scared, too
Scared of losing you
Scared of not being enough
Scared this feeling’s too good to be true.”
The chorus hit, and I sobbed.
“So stay
Even when it’s hard
Even when we’re apart
Stay
Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done
And losing you would break me.”
The album played through. Twelve songs, each one a piece of our story… the night we met, our first kiss, the morning afters, the distance, the doubt, and the desperate hope that we could make it work.
By the time it ended, I knew.
I knew I loved him. Knew I wanted this, wanted us, even with all the complications and distance and fear.
But I also knew I couldn’t keep doing this half-relationship, the scraps of attention, the constant feeling of being second to his career.
I needed all of him or none of him.
And in three days, I’d have to tell him that.