Chapter 9
Eli drove me to Cole’s hotel. He’d texted that he was back and asked me to come over.
“You sure about this?”
“No. But I’m doing it anyway.”
“That’s my girl. Call me after. Whether it’s celebration drinks or ‘I’m dying alone with seventeen cats’ drinks, I’ll be there.”
“I would never. I hate litter boxes.”
“The rescue has seventeen cats.”
“Those don’t count. They’re work cats.”
He laughed, squeezed my hand. “Go get your man, or break his heart. Either way, be honest.”
I walked into the hotel, my heart hammering. Found Cole’s room number. Raised my hand to knock.
“Autumn.”
I turned. Decker stood in the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable.
“Hey.” I lowered my hand. “How are you?”
He shifted his weight. “I should be asking you that. Cole said you guys have been… struggling.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“Look, I don’t know what he’s going to say in there.
It’s between you two. But I need you to know something.
” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s been miserable.
And yeah, part of that is missing you. But the other part?
The label is sucking the joy out of everything.
The constant touring, the promotional grind is not why we got into music. ”
My throat tightened.
“Whatever he decides, know it’s not just about you. It’s about him trying to remember why he loved this.” Decker squeezed my shoulder. “That’s all. Go talk to him.”
He walked away before I could respond.
I knocked on Cole’s door.
He opened it.
God, he looked good. Tired, thinner than I remembered, but good. His eyes lit up when he saw me.
“Autumn. You came.”
“We need to talk.”
His face fell. “That sounds ominous.”
“Can I come in?”
He stepped back. The room was simple—bed, desk, window overlooking downtown Asheville.
“I listened to the album.”
“And?”
“It’s beautiful. Every song. You’re going to be huge, Cole. Bigger than you ever imagined.”
“But?”
I turned to face him, tears already threatening. “But I can’t do this anymore. The distance and the waiting. Feeling like I’m not enough to make you want to stay.”
“Autumn…”
“Let me finish. Please.” I took a shaky breath. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. But I need more than FaceTime calls and canceled plans. I need someone who’s here. Present. Choosing me every single day.”
“I am choosing you.”
“Are you? Because it feels like I’m the thing you fit in between everything else. And I can’t…” My voice broke. “I can’t keep being second. Not again.”
Cole’s face crumbled. “You’re not second. You’re everything.”
“Then prove it.”
The words hung between us like a challenge.
“How?” His voice was raw. “Tell me how to prove it and I’ll do it.”
And that’s when I realized: I didn’t know.
I didn’t know what would be enough. What would make me feel secure and convince me this could last and be worth the pain.
Maybe nothing would.
Maybe I was too broken to be loved the way I needed.
“I don’t know.” The whisper barely made it out. “And that’s the problem.”
Cole stared at me for a long moment. Then he crossed the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the space beside him.
“Sit. Please.”
I sat.
He took my hand, laced our fingers together. “I talked to Decker, Faith, and David last night. Had a whole band meeting about the future.”
My stomach dropped. “Cole.”
“Let me finish.” He squeezed my hand. “Faith got a job offer. Backup singer and keys for The Sullivan Brothers. They’re a huge country act, arena tours, the whole thing. She’s been wanting something like this for years.”
“That’s great for her.”
“It is. She’s leaving the band after we finish this album cycle. She called me yesterday, completely freaking out. Happy freaking out. And you know what she said?”
“What?”
“That she was worried about abandoning the band right when things are taking off. I told her she was being an idiot. This is her dream and she should take it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And then she told me I was being an idiot, too.” His voice cracked. “That I’ve been running myself into the ground trying to do everything. Be everywhere. Make everyone happy. Live this life the label wants while also trying to keep you.”
“Cole…”
“She asked me what I actually want. Not what the label wants. Not what’s expected. What I want.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “And I realized I couldn’t answer. Because I’ve been so busy doing what I’m supposed to do that I forgot to ask myself if I even want it anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
He stood, paced to the window. “The label had us doing radio interviews at six AM, shows at night, driving through the night to the next city. We’d play, pack up, drive, repeat. I wasn’t making music anymore, Autumn. I was a product on a conveyor belt.”
My chest tightened.
“I realized last week that I haven’t written a song in two months. Not because I’m too busy. I could find time, but because I don’t feel anything except exhausted. Numb. Like the thing I used to love the most in the world had been turned into a job I resented.”
“Oh Cole.”
“What I need you to understand is this isn’t about choosing between you and music. It’s about the fact that what the label wants—constant touring, endless promotion, being everywhere all the time—is not why I got into music.”
“Why did you get into it?”
“To create and connect with people. To write songs that matter.” He turned back to me.
“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.
What if instead of touring constantly, we did something different?
Intimate shows. Local venues, places where people actually want to hear the music instead of just consuming content. ”
“Like house concerts?”
“Kind of. Decker and I have been calling them Porch Sessions. Small crowds, fifty people max. Some of the money goes to charities like your rescue and other local organizations. We’d still make albums, still do some traveling for studio time. But our home base would be here. In Asheville.”
My heart stuttered. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“I talked to David about it. About what it would look like if I based myself here. Did regional shows instead of constant touring. Built a local following while still releasing music.”
“What did he say?”
“He wasn’t thrilled. We’d have to fulfill our current contract, but after that he couldn’t stop me.
He said it’s unconventional and most artists at my level don’t do it that way.
But if anyone can make it work, it’s me.
” Cole crossed back to me, knelt in front of me, and took both my hands.
“And Decker’s in. He’s been wanting to settle down anyway.
Turns out he’s pretty serious about Brynn. He’s as burnt out as I am.”
“What about the label? Your contract?”
“The contract was only for one album. David wanted to see how it performed before committing to more. It went platinum, so he wants to re-sign us. But this time, I’m negotiating on my terms. Regional focus. Limited touring. Creative control.”
“And he agreed?”
“He didn’t say no, and he knows if he pushes too hard, we’ll walk. There are other labels. Other ways to make music.” Cole’s jaw set. “I’m done letting someone else dictate my life.”
I couldn’t breathe. This was everything I’d wanted but had been too afraid to ask for.
“You’d really do that?”
“I’m not giving anything up, Autumn. I’m getting my life back, and I want you in it.
Every day. Not just on a screen.” He kissed my knuckles.
“I’m not quitting music. I’m redefining it.
Choosing how I do it, and I’m choosing you.
I’m choosing us and a life that includes both the things I love instead of forcing me to pick one. ”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Cole.”
“I know it’s not perfect. There will still be trips to Nashville for studio time. Weekend shows in Charlotte or Atlanta. But my home, our home, will be here in Asheville with you.”
I grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He responded immediately, pulling me off the chair and into his arms, his hands in my hair, his body solid and here.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his mouth. “For pulling away and not fighting. For being so scared I couldn’t see what you were offering.”
“Stop apologizing.” He kissed down my neck. “Just tell me you want this. Tell me you want us.”
“I want us. I want all of you. Every complicated, beautiful, chaotic piece of you.”
His smile could’ve lit up the whole world. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Move in with me,” I said.
He pulled back, eyes wide. “What?”
“Move in with me. My apartment’s bigger than a hotel room, and if you’re staying in Asheville, you’ll need a place. So. Move in.”
His smile could’ve powered the sun. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a big step.”
“I’m tired of small steps. I want all of you. The parts that make music and the parts that come home to me. I want us. Eventually, we can look for a place all our own, but for now…”
He kissed me, soft and sweet. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
Then he swept me up like he’d done that first night in my apartment, and I yelped.
“Cole!”
“Celebrating.” He carried me to the bed, laid me down gently. “We’re celebrating.”
“How?”
His hands went to the zipper of my dress. “I have some ideas. You look incredibly sexy in this dress, and I can’t wait to get you out of it.”
And just like that, we were starting over.
Together.