Chapter 27 Darian
darian
. . .
The Martin feels heavier than usual as I stand backstage at The Songbird. Through the curtain gap, I can see them. Rye sits at a corner table with Lily beside her, both of them looking toward the empty stage like they’re waiting for something. For me.
My phone buzzes against my thigh. Laura’s number lights up the screen for the third time today, and I finally answer.
“You’re making a mistake,” she says without preamble.
“No, I’m making a choice.”
“Same thing when it’s the wrong one. Rex’s team is waiting for an answer.”
I watch Lily lean against her mother’s shoulder, pointing at something on the stage. Probably the new mic stand we installed yesterday. “Tell them thanks, but I’m staying in Nashville.”
“Darian—”
“Actually, tell them if they want me, they can find me here. I’ve got a studio. I’ve got session musicians. If Rex wants to work together, he knows where I am.”
The silence on Laura’s end stretches long enough that I wonder if she hung up. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“You’re turning down guaranteed money and exposure for what? Some groupie? You should know better than that, Darian.”
I see red at her calling Rye a groupie, but then I remember Laura has no idea who I’m with. I smile, knowing Laura will never be a part of our lives.
“For a life that actually means something,” I tell her. “Everything you’re offering, I can do here.”
“Christ, you’ve gone soft.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I finally figured out what matters.”
“This is career suicide.”
“No, it’s career evolution. I’m done chasing other people’s definitions of success.”
Another pause. “Fine. I’ll tell them. But when you’re playing coffee shops in five years wondering where it all went wrong—”
“I’ll be exactly where I want to be.”
I hang up before she can respond and immediately dial another number. Rex’s manager answers on the second ring.
“Darian Mercer. I was wondering when we’d hear from you.”
“I’m not coming to LA.”
“Excuse me?”
“If Rex wants to work with me, we do it in Nashville. I’ve got access to a world-class studio here, better session musicians than you’ll find anywhere else, and the sound he’s looking for. He’s familiar with the scene here so it’s not out of the question.”
“The label expects—”
“The label expects a great album. I can deliver that from here. If Rex is serious about wanting me specifically, then location shouldn’t matter.”
“I’ll need to discuss this with Rex and the label.”
“You do that. But make it clear this isn’t negotiable. Nashville or nothing.”
I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket. Through the curtain, I see Rye check her watch. It’s almost time.
The house lights dim as I walk onto the stage. There’s maybe fifty people here tonight—regulars mostly, plus Rye and Lily, my sister- and brother-in-law, Stormy and Willow. Not the packed house we had last week, which is perfect. This isn’t about the crowd.
“Evening,” I say into the mic, adjusting the guitar strap. “Got something new tonight. Well, new to you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”
I don’t look at Rye, not yet. Instead, I focus on the opening chord progression, the one she helped me figure out two weeks ago when we were supposed to be fixing the sound board but ended up writing instead.
The song starts quiet, just fingerpicking and my voice barely above a whisper. It’s about finding home in unexpected places, about choosing to stay when everything in your history says run. About a woman who runs a venue and sees through bullshit, and a little girl who wants to learn guitar.
I wrote it for them, even if they don’t know it yet.
Halfway through the second verse, I finally look at their table. Lily’s eyes are wide, completely absorbed in the performance. But Rye—she knows. I can see it in the way her hand grips her glass, the way her shoulders tense with recognition.
The bridge is where the song opens up, where the fear gives way to certainty. My voice cracks slightly on the line about promises being replaced by presence, but I push through. This is the most honest thing I’ve written in years.
When the last note fades, the small crowd applauds politely. Lily claps enthusiastically, bouncing in her seat. Rye doesn’t move at all.
“Thanks,” I tell the audience. “I’m going to take a quick break.”
I leave the Martin on its stand and head backstage, knowing she’ll follow. The narrow hallway behind the stage smells like old wood and fresh paint from where we patched the walls last week. I lean against the wall, waiting.
She appears less than a minute later, leaving Lily with my family.
“That song,” she starts.
“Was for you. Both of you.”
She stops a few feet away, close enough that I can see the war happening behind her eyes. “You can’t just—”
“Would you ever let me stay?”
The question hangs between us like a held breath. It’s the real question, the one hiding under all our careful dancing around each other.
She looks at me for a long moment, and I think she might walk away. “Would you ever let me fall?”
The counter-question hits harder than any answer would have. She’s not asking if I’ll catch her—she’s asking if I’ll let her trust me enough to risk falling in the first place.
“Every day if you want to.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s exactly what you asked. You want to know if I’ll let you be vulnerable, if I’ll hold space for you to risk everything the way you’ve been afraid to since your ex left. The answer is yes.”
She steps closer, close enough that I have to look down to meet her eyes. “I told Laura no,” I continue. “Called Rex’s team directly. Told them if they want me, they can find me here.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did. Not for you, for me. Because I’m tired of running toward things that look good on paper but feel empty.
Because teaching Lily guitar matters more than any producing credit.
Because what we’re building here—the music, the venue, whatever this is between us—it’s worth more than anything they’re offering. ”
Her hand finds my face, thumb tracing my jaw. “You’re sure?”
“Never more sure of anything.”
“Even though I’m complicated and have walls and might push you away when I get scared?”
“Especially then.”
She rises up on her toes, and I meet her halfway. The kiss is different from our others—no desperation, no fear, just acknowledgment. We’re choosing this, choosing each other, with all the messiness that entails.
When we break apart, she keeps her hand on my face. “You really told them Nashville or nothing?”
“I really did.”
“What if they say no?”
“Then they say no. I’ll find other work. Bishop’s got connections. There’s session work. Hell, I could teach guitar full time if I needed to.”
“You’d do that? Give up the big opportunity for session work and guitar lessons?”
“I’d give up a lot more than that for something real.”
She studies my face like she’s looking for the lie, the catch, the moment where I’ll take it back. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admits. “I don’t know how to trust someone again.”
“We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Through the wall, we hear Lily’s voice: “Is Darian coming back? He left his guitar!”
Rye smiles. “Better get back out there before she commandeers your Martin.”
“One more thing.” I pull her close again. “The answer to your question? I’ll let you fall every single day. And I’ll be right there when you do.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Yeah. But so is this. I love you, Rye.”
Her eyes widen in shock, and then a smile begins to form. “Say it again.”
“I’m madly in love with you Rye Hayes.”
She kisses me again, quick but certain. “I love you too, Darian. Now go. Play your set. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
I head back to the stage, picking up my guitar as Lily waves from her table.
The small crowd has gotten a bit larger, but I’m not playing for them.
I’m playing for the woman standing in the back, arms crossed but smiling.
For the little girl who wants to learn guitar.
For the life I’m choosing instead of the one being chosen for me.
The next song is one of the old ones, from the Reverend Sister days. I invite my sister up to sing with me, surprising the crowd. We strip the song down to just acoustic guitar and our voices. Make it something new. Something mine. Something ours.
Halfway through, I catch Rye moving through the venue, checking on customers, adjusting lights, doing all the things that keep this place running. But every few seconds, her eyes find mine and I see my future.
Would you ever let me stay?
Would you ever let me fall?
The answer to both is yes. Always yes.
When my set ends, I pack up the Martin and head to the table where Lily’s practically vibrating with excitement.
“That first song was new!” she says, eyes bright. “I’ve never heard you play it before.”
“Just wrote it last week.”
“It was beautiful. The part about learning guitar—was that about anyone special?” She grins up at me, all innocence and curiosity.
I look at Rye, who’s trying not to smile. “Maybe about a student of mine who’s been working really hard.”
“Really?” Lily beams. “Mom, did you hear? Darian wrote about teaching me how to play guitar!”
“I heard, baby.”
Lily turns back to me. “So tomorrow? Regular time? Can Willow play with us?”
“Of course,” I tell her and my niece.
“I think we’re going to bail,” Zara says to me as Lily yawns. “Willow and Lily want to know if Lily can come back to the ranch?”
Lily clasps her hands in prayer and makes puppy dog eyes at her mom.
“You don’t have any clothes here,” Rye says.
“We’re the same size,” Willow says. “She can wear some of my stuff.”
“Please, Mom,” Lily pleads.
I lean in, “If she’s at my sister’s that means we’ll be alone.”
Rye’s cheek blush. “Okay, but you better be on your best behavior. Do everything Zara and Levi tell you.”
“I will, thank you.” Lily gives her mom a hug and then gives me one.
“Did you know Levi is really famous? I saw lots of people asking for his autograph.”
I nod and realize I need to take this girl to LA and then she’ll think I’m really famous.
“He is,” I say, agreeing with her. “But he’s a cool guy. In the morning, ask him to take you horseback riding. You’ll love it.”
Her eyes widen and then she gives me another hug. “Have fun, kiddo.”
For the rest of the night, I sit at the table, drinking a few beers and chatting with other artists.
Every so often, Rye checks in, but she’s busy.
As soon as people heard Levi was in the building, they rushed to see him.
Unfortunately for them, he’d already left, but I texted him and said he needs to do an impromptu show at The Songbird. He agreed right away.
Later after the venue closes, Rye and I sit on the empty stage, sharing a beer and looking out at the room where everything started.
“I meant it,” I tell her. “About letting you fall.”
“I know. That’s what scares me.”
“But?”
“But maybe it’s time to be scared of the right things.”
“Which are?”
“Missing out on something real because I was too afraid to risk it.”
I set down the beer, turning to face her fully. “We’re really doing this?”
“We’re really doing this.”
“Even though it’s complicated and messy and neither of us knows what we’re doing?”
“Especially because of that.”
We sit in comfortable silence, the empty venue holding our words like a secret.
“Hey,” Rye says suddenly. “That line in the song, about promises being replaced by presence?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? Not promising forever, just promising to show up.”
“Every day.”
“Every day.”
Would you ever let me stay? Would you ever let me fall?
Yes. Always yes.