CHAPTER Four
Regret is a Monster
Nashville, Tennessee
In an attempt to smooth things over after lying to Heidi about Friday night, I invited her to brunch on Sunday, a strategic peace offering.
I arrived early at Southern Princess, securing us a good seat, trying to buy back her affections with prime brunch real estate.
But if I am being honest, I need more than just reconciliation—I need someone to help me sort through the absolute insanity of last night’s offer.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the moment Cody suggested it.
The idea of leaving my cushy, corporate job to gallivant across the country for the summer is completely reckless, probably irresponsible, and yet I can’t help but think about how exhilarating it would be.
These are the kinds of things people do when they’re young and untethered. I’m only 26. I have the rest of my life to rot in an office.
But then, there’s my parents.
They wouldn’t understand or approve. While I don’t need their permission, the idea of disappointing them feels like a weight pressing against my chest.
After everything they’ve been through, the thought of putting any added stress on them twists something inside me.
As I glance down at my phone, the screen lights up with a new message from my cousin.
Macy: Hey cuz! Can you drive me to the airport on Tuesday morning at 5:00 a.m.?
A sigh slips from my lips as I read it. Of course it’s at the crack of dawn on a work day. I can already feel the sleep deprivation creeping in just thinking about it.
I roll my eyes but tap out a reply anyway.
Me: Sure!
The sound of glasses clinking and easy laughter fills the space around me, the sweet scent of cinnamon and maple syrup lingering in the air.
The place is dripping with signature Nashville brunch charm—a pink floral wall to my right, a perfectly curated photo-op for bachelorettes, complete with a Call Me Princess neon sign glowing overhead.
In an effort to smooth Heidi’s inevitable passive aggression, I’ve already ordered a carafe of orange juice and a bottle of champagne. Hopefully, bottomless mimosas will drown any lingering resentment.
I pick at my nails anxiously, already on edge.
With Heidi, I never know what to expect. She might walk in and be charming, the magnetic friend I first fell for. Or she could be cold, calculating, or subtly cruel.
As soon as she steps through the front door, I take a deep, cleansing breath.
“Hey, Heidz!” I say, maybe too enthusiastically.
Her expression is unreadable, not exactly warm.
Ugh. Here we go.
“Hey.” She responds plainly, sliding into the chair and placing her purse on the empty seat beside her. Her green eyes flat with indifference.
“Thanks for agreeing to brunch. I’m sorry about Friday. I didn’t expect that work event to pop up.”
I get the words out immediately, trying to cut off the tension before it wraps around us completely.
She takes a measured pause before responding.
“That’s okay, things happen.” Her voice is smooth and lethally calm.
That familiar chill runs through me.
I pour champagne into her glass and quickly steer the conversation elsewhere, hoping to shift the mood.
Luckily, after a few mimosas, Heidi loosens up, laughing and gossiping about her latest dates, while I fill her in on office drama. It feels normal. Nice, even.
Then, I see my opening. I take a deep breath, polishing off my third mimosa before dropping it casually:
“So… something kind of crazy happened to me last night.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh my god, what?”
“I was working at The Riot Room and ended up talking to some of the members of Atlas Obsidian, they’re on tour with Hellwake.”
Her face perks up at the mention of Hellwake, and I know I have her attention.
“Well, something happened with their merch guy, and he quit on the spot. One of the band members offered for me to take his place for the summer since I have experience working at the venue.”
I grimace slightly, bracing for impact.
“Oh wow. That’s interesting,” she says, drawing out the last word.
“I know, it was so unexpected, but I feel like with my experience, it could be a good fit.”
She lets out a huff-laugh, the kind that sounds just a little condescending, or maybe that’s just my paranoia.
“Working at a venue isn’t the same as being on tour. That shit is really hard work.”
I furrow my brows, and try not to sound defensive.
“Yeah, I know. But I think I could handle it. I’d mostly be doing merch.”
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes slightly, clearly not convinced.
“Not to mention that you don’t even know these people. Seems kind of weird to me. What about your job?”
I try to mask my disappointment, but it’s there. I had hoped she would be excited for me, that she would at least pretend to think this was cool before poking holes in it.
“I hate that job anyway,” I say, trying to sound steadfast. “And with my experience, I’m sure I could find something else when I get back. I always have The Riot Room as backup.”
“It sounds really cool, but a little crazy, Ramona. I don’t know.”
There it is again. That laugh. That fucking laugh that grates against my skin like sandpaper. My insides heat slightly at her dismissive tone.
I stare at her for a moment, trying to push the frustration down before I say something I’ll regret.
“I thought you’d be excited for me,” I say, my voice tight. “It was cool to at least be asked.”
She shrugs. “I would be if it were a legitimate thing. But I think you know it isn’t really feasible.
“Plus who is going to be my Pilates partner if you are gone?” She says, placing her hand on my arm that is resting on the table.
A lump forms in my throat as I lower my gaze to my glass.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m romanticizing this too much, convincing myself that I could actually pull this off. Perhaps I was foolish to get even a little excited.
“I guess maybe you’re right,” I say, voice smaller than I want it to be.
She clinks her glass against mine, wearing that smug little smirk.
“I always am.”
Heidi and I part ways with a hug and I start the walk back to my apartment. I pull the napkin from The Riot Room out of my purse, the one with Cody’s email on it and look at it with longing.
I had already emailed him the photos this morning before I left for brunch. He responded almost immediately with:
Thanks Hendrix! Please tell me you’re going to accept my offer…there’s a free t-shirt and endless laughter and hugs courtesy of me in it for you ;)
I smile softly, but it doesn’t last long.
I am kidding myself by believing I am cool enough for an opportunity like this. I blow out a breath, shoulders slumping as I try to shake off the disappointment of letting myself get excited, even for a short time.
I slide my key into the lock, the soft click echoing through the entryway, and push open the door to my apartment.
The scent of lavender and old books greets me, but tonight, my home doesn’t feel as comforting.
I let the door fall shut behind me and drop my bag by the coat rack before flopping onto the couch, the cushions sighing beneath me.
Without thinking, my hand slips into my back pocket, fingers curling around the one thing I know will make me feel better. I scroll straight to my favorite contact: Ashton.
My big brother. My best friend. The person who knows me best.
He and his wife Danya bought a Winnebago a few months ago and took off to live the kind of adventure most people only talk about.
They’re road-tripping across the country for a year, chasing sunsets, collecting stories.
And I’m so happy for him—I really am. But God, I miss him.
I miss having him ten minutes away. I miss our random diner runs at midnight, dancing on music festival grounds while we scream the same lyrics, and those long drives where we’d blast old music and not say a word.
He’s still my person. Always has been. The one who taught me how to ride a bike and how to laugh at myself when I fell.
The one who sat in my room when I cried over boys who broke my heart.
The one who has been there for me during the darkest times.
The one who’s never, not once, judged me or let me down.
The FaceTime rings twice before his face fills the screen. His ocean-blue eyes are bright as he adjusts the phone. His oaky brown hair is pulled back into a man-bun, a few rebellious strands falling loose around his face, and his smile is so warm I can feel it through the screen.
“Hey Mona! What’s up?”
“Hey, Ash,” I say softly, the weariness seeping into my voice like water into cracks.
His face shifts immediately, the teasing grin fading into gentle concern.
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong, sis? Let big brother fix it.”
I smile weakly, propping my chin on my hand.
“I got offered a really cool opportunity yesterday, but… I don’t know. It feels like a big risk.”
He’s in the middle of putting cups away in a tiny wooden cupboard, probably in their little kitchen nook inside the van, but his full attention swings back to me.
“What kind of opportunity?”
I launch into the whole story: the band, the unexpected offer, the idea of going on tour for the summer. His eyes widen with every sentence, lighting up like a kid at Christmas.
“Mona, that sounds amazing. You’d be so good at that!”
“Yeah, it sounds amazing,” I say, biting my lip. “But what about my job?”
He shrugs with a knowing smile.
“You mean the job you hate?”
I let out a dry laugh. “Touché.”
He leans closer to the camera, lowering his voice in that big-brother-is-dropping-wisdom tone.
“Take the risk, Ramona. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Not everything has to make perfect sense to be the right choice.”
I hesitate, staring at the screen like maybe the answers are hidden in his face.
“You really don’t think it’s stupid?” I ask, my voice smaller than I meant it to be. Heidi’s harsh words from earlier echo like a scratchy record in the back of my head.
His eyes soften.
“Why would it be stupid? This sounds like exactly the kind of thing you’ve been waiting for. You don’t need permission to want more for yourself.”
“I don’t even know these people, Ash…”
“Yet,” he corrects gently. “But you could. And it could change everything.”
I nod slowly, my heart teetering between fear and something dangerously close to hope.
“I’ll think on it. But… thank you. For not laughing at me. For always being in my corner.”
“Always, sis,” he says without missing a beat. “And hey—if you do end up going, maybe we can meet up somewhere cool on the road. We’ve got wheels too, remember?”
I laugh, already picturing our reunion somewhere random like a dive bar in Wyoming or a beach in Oregon.
“That would be perfect,” I say softly. “Thanks for talking to me, Ash. I love you.”
His grin is filled with the kind of care only brothers can give.
“Love you too, sis.”
And even though he’s hundreds of miles away, for a moment, it feels like he’s right here—on this couch, beside me, like he always has been.
And just like that, it’s Monday again—the crushing weight of my workload settling back onto my shoulders, threatening to suffocate me before lunch.
My fingers click rhythmically against the keyboard, my eyes already blurring from the screen’s glare, when I sense a presence behind me.
Alden.
“Ramona, we need an ad for next month’s conference program. Can you get that done today?”
His tone is casual, detached, barely looking up from his phone as he slicks a hand through his hair—the universal sign of someone who expects things to be done without considering the effort required.
He’s basically wearing a carbon copy of his Friday ensemble: the same crisp button-down, tailored slacks, and polished dress shoes.
It’s like he has a preset uniform, further solidifying my theory that he’s a corporate bro-bot, programmed with exactly three variations of business casual and zero originality.
I don’t even look away from my screen.
“Um, honestly, I don’t think so. I’m trying to get these proposals out on time. When is it due? Can Mindi handle it?”
He finally looks up, brows pinching together slightly. “No, Mindi’s going with me to a client lunch, and it’s due by the close of business today.”
He says it so casually, like I’m supposed to summon a fully designed ad from between my ass cheeks while simultaneously juggling the rest of the company’s workload.
I swivel in my chair and shoot him a look that is probably not the most professional, but at this point, I don’t care.
“Can’t she stay back, and you just go? I’m already swamped. I can’t take on anything else.”
Alden’s eyes narrow, his silent ‘watch your tone’ warning written all over his face.
“No. I need her at this meeting. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
He turns to walk away, already dismissing me, already assuming I’ll bend over backward like I always do.
But this time, I don’t. I won’t.
This time, the burning frustration that has been boiling inside me for years—the resentment, the exhaustion, the goddamn rage—erupts.
I hear Ashton’s words in my head:
Take the risk.
Before I can stop myself, before doubt can creep in, I do the one thing I’ve dreamt of since day one.
I stand abruptly, my chair rolling back with a sharp squeak.
“Actually, I won’t figure it out…because I quit!”
Alden whips around, eyes finally snapping to me with undivided attention.
“What? You can’t quit!”
I grab my purse, phone, and water bottle—the only things that matter to me here.
I take a few steps toward the door, then pause, turning slightly.
“I can. And I just did.”
And because I just can’t help myself, I flash him a crisp middle finger before strolling out—dignity intact, soul lighter than it has felt in years.
The moment I slide into my car, a wild, uncontrollable smile spreads across my face.
Goddamn, that felt good.
I’ve imagined quitting like this for years—fantasized about it while staring at spreadsheets, daydreamed about it while Mindi fluttered around the office doing absolutely nothing.
And now? Now it’s real.
I pull out my phone, open my email, and type two simple words to Cody:
I’m in.
The second I hit send, I lean my head against the seat, exhaling the biggest sigh of relief of my entire life. Not even a minute later, my phone dings with a reply:
FUCK YEAHHHHH HENDRIX!
I’ll send you all the paperwork and everything you need for the tour. We’ll cover your food and accommodation as well. I’m so stoked you agreed to ride with us!
I let out a breathless laugh, my hands tightening around my phone like it’s the key to my new life.
For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m trapped.
I feel free.