4. 4
Hayes
Then
Damn, that’s a lot of notifications.
Scrolling through them, I ignore everything from Jane. I’m not in the right frame of mind to deal with her. Besides, we broke up. Is there really anything urgent that we need to discuss?
There are other calls from my bandmates—Rowdy, Josh, and James—and two missed calls from Charlotte, our manager. Charlotte, who has been with us since we first started Outlaw, is also Jane’s big sister, so for obvious reasons, I ignore Charlotte’s calls, too.
“Siri, call Rowdy on his cell.”
I wait, stopped at a traffic light, for the call to connect.
“Hey, man. ‘Bout time you resurfaced. Where’d you go last night? Jane’s been raising holy hell trying to find you.” Concern filters through Rowdy’s deep voice. “Not calling from jail, are you?”
“No need to bail me out this time,” I chuckle, but my laugh stops as quickly as it started as I debate how much to tell Rowdy.
He’s my best friend, but he’s also Jane’s friend, which places him squarely in the middle of this situation.
“Escaped to a cheap motel last night, and I turned my phone off because I needed time to clear my head.”
Unfortunately, waking up to find Annabelle gone has left my head anything but clear.
This morning, when I rolled over in bed to cold sheets and an empty motel room, my stomach lurched. And not from last night’s tequila. We’d agreed to one night, but Annabelle’s absence this morning stung with disappointment.
As casual as things between us started, undercurrents of something more developed. For me, it went beyond physical attraction. There was something irresistible drawing me to her, and I wanted more. As crazy as it sounds, I think we might have stumbled upon the start of something special.
But she left before I could do anything about it.
From behind me, a horn honks, and I accelerate through the light, waving an apology to the impatient motorist.
“You don’t sound too broken up about things.”
“I’m not. Jane and I are better off splitting up.”
“Wait! Y’all broke up?” Rowdy yelps .
“Uh, yeah. Did Jane leave that part out when she spoke to you?” It’s so typical of Jane to gloss over the bad parts of life, as if she can rewrite history to her liking.
Rowdy whooshes out a heavy breath. “She sure did. Probably in denial or hoping you’ll take her back.”
“I won’t,” I say with conviction. “I needed to end it, Rowdy. There was just always something missing between us.”
“Better to be single and alone than together and lonely.”
“Sounds like a good start to a song.”
“Speaking of songs, Charlotte has been applying some pressure, reminding us we need to get back into the studio soon and bang out our next album. I’ve got a song or two I’ve been fiddling with. You got anything new yet, or should we listen to demos?”
The four of us—Rowdy, Josh, James, and me—started Outlaw while we were in high school, and from Outlaw’s inception, we agreed we wouldn’t sing music written by other people.
We wanted our music to be personal to us.
I think that’s why Outlaw’s been so successful.
People feel the connection we have with our songs because the inspiration behind them comes from our personal experiences.
But after our last album dropped, the music stopped for me.
The novelty of being in a band had worn off, and things that had once been invigorating—concerts, touring, fame, the revolving door of groupies—lost their luster.
I was just going through the motions, stymied by life.
No matter how hard I tried to write, the words wouldn’t come.
Until last night. Annabelle inspired me, and I felt the dam blocking my creativity burst open.
“About that. I have a melody and some lyrics for a new song. It’s not complete, but it’s a solid start to one, and I have ideas for a few more. Want to come over and see if we can finish it? ”
“Hot damn, Hayes is back!” The excitement in Rowdy’s voice spurs on my own.
Tipping back his beer, Rowdy glances at me sideways. We spent the day holed up in my living room, strumming guitars and writing songs, like we used to do in Rowdy’s grandmother’s garage back when we were dumb high schoolers.
Damn, if it don’t feel good to get back to our roots.
“You gonna tell me what prompted this writing session? Or are we gonna keep pretending you’re not holding back on me?”
“Nothing to tell, man,” I say with a shrug, playing it cool. “Just woke up this morning with the words flowing.”
“I know you better than that. I’m here to listen when you decide to cut the bullshit and talk.” He takes another swig, polishing off his beer, and hops up. “Want another?”
I nod, a heavy sigh slipping from my mouth. Leaning back, I sink into the cushions of my leather sectional. My mind drifts to Annabelle. Again. I haven’t stopped thinking about her all day.
The way Annabelle felt in my arms, how her body molded to mine—it felt perfect. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I dated Jane for a year, but the fire I experienced last night with a stranger was far stronger than anything I felt for Jane.
And now, I'm left to figure out how to navigate the situation with Jane as diplomatically as possible. Because of the band, our breakup is going to be messy. Having grown up together, we function as a misfit family, and our lives are intertwined, both personally and professionally. I can’t allow our breakup to fracture our friendships or fuck up our working relationships.
It’s going to be complicated and stressful as hell.
Rowdy returns and places a tumbler of whiskey on the coffee table in front of me before settling down with his own glass. “I could hear you sighing from the kitchen, brother. Sounded like you need stronger stuff than beer.”
“Thanks.” I glance up. “You talked to Jane today?”
“Nope, but Dumber made the mistake of picking up one of her calls this morning. She’s pissed you went MIA.”
The other two members of Outlaw are brothers, James and Josh. Thanks to their schoolboy antics and uncanny knack for finding trouble, I’ve affectionately dubbed them Dumb and Dumber. James, the older and quieter of the two, earned the title of Dumb, while Josh is, without question, Dumber.
“You said you talked to Char, though, right? What’d she say about all this?”
“Charlotte wanted to reiterate that she can keep her personal and professional lives separate.” Rowdy’s mustache twitches. “But she wanted me to pass along that you’re an ass, and she’ll uninvite you to Thanksgiving if necessary.”
Despite my mood, I can’t help but grin. Since Thanksgiving is always celebrated at my ranch, Charlotte can’t uninvite me.
Still, her comment forces me to face the truth—the dynamics within our group are bound to change now that Jane and I have split.
As much as I hate it, our little band family is in for some growing pains while we figure out our new normal.
But if that storm is the price I have to pay for meeting Annabelle, I’ll gladly pay it.
The music Rowdy and I wrote today brought every detail of my night with her rushing back, every lyric infused with memories of Annabelle.
How she felt, how she made me feel. Seeing her dimples and hearing her laugh did something to me.
With each chord my fingers strummed, my resolve hardened.
She may have slipped out of the motel room, but I’m not letting her get away.
I’ll do whatever it takes to find her again.
I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, round and round. “I met a woman last night,” I start.
Rowdy barks out a robust laugh, his eyes alight with delight. “Holy shit, only you could break up with Jane and meet someone new in the span of twelve hours, man. I can’t wait to tell Bailey!”
I roll my eyes. While I love Rowdy's wife, Bailey, I'd rather not pull her into this situation just yet.
Once his laughter subsides, he asks, “How’d you meet her?”
“After I checked into the motel, I wandered into the attached bar. I was nursing a beer when this woman sat down next to me. She was fucking gorgeous, Rowdy. She clearly had no clue who I was, even told me she hated country music,” I say with a grin.
“When I mouthed off, she lit into me. Called me a pretentious asshole. And damn, the way she put me in my place was hot. We kept drinking, arguing turned into talking, talking into flirting… and the next thing I knew, we’re in my motel room having the best sex of my life. ”
“Sounds good, especially the part where she called you a pretentious asshole," he smirks. "So, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“We agreed it would be a one-time thing. Nothing more.” I pull my lower lip through my teeth, replaying our conversation.
Heady from hormones, I would have agreed to anything to get Annabelle to go back to my motel room with me, but damn, don’t I regret making that agreement now?
“She got under my skin, Rowdy. I wanted more, but when I woke up, she was already gone.”
“Well, the songs we wrote today make a lot more sense now,” Rowdy muses, rubbing his beard. “Don’t want to freak you out, but it sounds like when I met Bailey. From our first conversation, something felt different. Once I found Bailey, she was it for me, man.”
"I think Annabelle might be it for me too."
Growing up, it was always just my mom and me.
She worked hard to provide for us, and despite being a child, I took care of her as best I could.
But with her long hours, she wasn't around much.
I've always longed for the connection and sense of belonging that having a family brings, but I've never found someone who made me want more with her.
More than once, I'd thought about settling down with Jane.
But it would have been just that—settling.
Then, I met Annabelle. And for the first time, she made me imagine forever. It sounds insane, even to me, but it just felt so fucking right with her.
Draining my whiskey, I vow, “I’ll do whatever it takes to find her.”
“Right on, but… can we circle back and talk about Jane for a minute?” Rowdy’s eyes hold mine. He looks curious and a little worried. “What happened, Hayes?”
“We broke up.”
“Details, man. I need the details. If not for me, for Bailey. She’ll harass me until she hears the whole story.”
I toss my baseball cap down next to me and scrape my hands through my hair. “I tried, Rowdy. I tried to make it work with Jane. She’s fucking family to me, but...”
“Hayes, you’re loyal to a fault. No one doubts that. We could all see how hard you tried to make it work with Jane, but you can’t jam a square peg into a round hole.”
At Rowdy’s words, a welcome wave of relief washes over me. The guys have always thought of Jane as a little sister and been protective of her. I’ve harbored fears they’d be angry at me for ending things with her, which is why I let our relationship drag on as long as I did.
Stretching out my legs, I feel some of the tension ebb from my muscles.
“Yesterday, we got into a fight because Jane wanted me to propose. I’ve never even told her I loved her, but she expected me to be ready for marriage,” I say, still reeling from Jane’s demand and the panic I felt at hearing her words.
Lifting my glass, I remember it’s empty.
Rowdy slides his whiskey across the coffee table.
I take a long, heavy sip from his glass.
“She gave me an ultimatum: propose or break up. I fucking froze and didn’t say a word.
She yelled at me some more and then stormed out, and I ended up at Tank’s Motel and Tavern where I met Annabelle. ”
Rowdy presses his lips together. “Hayes, you’re the stupidest smart guy I know.”
My brows furrow.
Shaking his head, his belly heaves from his hooting laughter. “I’ve got bad news for you, brother. You didn’t break up with Jane, but it sounds like you need to since you slept with someone else.”
“What are you talking about, Rowdy?” I bark. “Jane said to either propose or break up. I sure as shit didn’t propose. Therefore, we broke up.”
Rowdy pulls his phone from his pocket, puts the call to his wife on speaker, and sets it down between us.
As it rings, I take another gulp of whiskey, my heart sputtering at the implausible idea that Jane and I didn’t break up yesterday. Rowdy is right about one thing: I am loyal, and I value loyalty above all else. That I may have cheated, even unwittingly, eats at me.
“Bailey, I've got a situation to run by you right quick. Hayes needs a little help understanding women.” Rowdy leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, and explains what went down.
Bailey’s tinkling laughter, which I usually find endearing, grates on my nerves. She sighs and confirms my worst fears. “You did not break up with her, Einstein. How are you simultaneously so smart and so dumb, Hayes?”
“That’s almost exactly what I said, babe.”
Great. Just fucking great. I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. Rowdy’s laughter crescendos into full guffaws.
“Y’all can both shut up,” I say, furiously massaging my forehead. “Explain it to me like I’m five, Bailey. How did we not break up?”
“Jane supplied you with two options. Option A was to propose, and Option B was to break up. You chose Option C, which was to freeze like a freaking deer in headlights.”
“Hayes’ new nickname should be Bambi,” Rowdy quips as I glare at him.
“Focus, Rowdy,” Bailey admonishes. “Just because you didn’t choose Option A doesn’t mean you chose Option B by default. Y’all just had a fight. But if you slept with someone else last night, it won’t matter if you thought you were on a break—”
I see the thought cross his mind before Rowdy forms the words. “Don’t fucking say it, man,” I warn, pointing my finger at him.
Ignoring me, Rowdy does his best Ross from Friends impression, “But we were on a break!” Which, of course, his wife finds hilarious.
Hell, at this point, even I find the situation a little funny.
Until I realize I might still need to break up with Jane.
Fuuuuck.