CHAPTER Five
There’s Nothing Left of Me
Nashville, Tennessee
The next day and a half are a blur of logistics—figuring out how to sublet my apartment while I’m gone, making sure my bills are in order, how to get all my things into storage, and wrapping up loose ends.
Surprisingly, it’s easier than I expected.
A family friend who does property management offers to handle everything with my apartment, meaning I don’t have to stress about my place while I’m on the road.
I box up all my belongings and call a moving company to haul it to a storage unit down the street.
When I called Ashton to tell him the good news, I swear I could hear his scream echo from wherever he was parked on the other side of the country.
It wasn’t just loud—it was full-body, arms-in-the-air, pure-Ashton joy.
The kind of reaction only someone who knows your heart can give.
His excitement burst through the phone like sunlight through glass, painting an unstoppable smile across my face. I didn’t even try to hold it back.
My next call was to Reign, guilt immediately creeping in for leaving him on such short notice. Before I could even get through my long-winded apology, he cut me off with a laugh.
“I would literally murder you if you didn’t take this opportunity. Congrats, my love!”
I breathed out a relieved laugh.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Ramona, please. This is badass. I always knew you were meant for more than slinging drinks and dealing with drunk idiots. But I expect VIP treatment when I visit you on tour. Backstage passes. A throne, maybe.”
I grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You better. Now go be a rockstar, baby.”
God, I love that man.
With that squared away, I have one last thing to do before I leave: and it’s the hardest.
Tell my parents.
I’ve been dreading this conversation because I can already picture their faces, their concerned expressions, their well-meaning but suffocating questions.
I love them deeply. They’ve always supported me, but I know they also see me on a specific path—one that is stable, responsible, predictable. This? This is none of those things. And I’m terrified that they will be disappointed.
I pull up to their house at the end of the cul-de-sac and inhale sharply, trying to steel myself before stepping out of my car.
The moment I open the door, I hear them in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of home—my mom cooking, my dad cleaning up behind her, their chatter blending with the clinking of dishes.
I walk down the entryway and glance at the shrine of family photos lining the walls.
“Hey, Mona!” My dad calls from his spot at the sink, hands deep in soapy water. He brushes his shaggy brown hair from his face with his forearm as he turns around, hands dripping.
“Hey, Dad. Hey, Mom,” I say, keeping my voice cheerful as I step inside.
“Hi, sweetie. What’s going on?” my mom asks, looking over her shoulder as she stirs something on the stove, her golden hair falling right above her shoulder. From the aroma of sizzling spices, I’m guessing fajitas.
I rub my hands together, bracing for impact.
“I wanted to talk to you guys about something. I know you probably won’t understand it, but it’s something I’m really excited about.”
That gets their full attention.
My dad dries his hands, turning to face me fully, and my mom does the same, brows slightly raised above her light blue eyes.
“What’s up?” he asks.
I exhale slowly, steadying myself before I let it out.
“I got offered a pretty incredible opportunity for the summer,” I begin, watching their faces closely. “I actually quit my job yesterday... and I’m leaving tomorrow to go on tour with a band I met at The Riot Room.”
The words linger in the air like smoke.
Silence follows—heavy, weighty, suspended between us like a thread pulled taut.
My mom is the first to speak.
“I just wish you would’ve talked to us before making that kind of decision. That job had real potential, you could’ve built a solid future from it.”
“This is a real opportunity too,” I say, more defensively than I intend. “They’re even letting me do some photography on tour.”
My dad shifts, his brows knitting with concern.
“Sweetheart, we know you’ve got talent, there’s no doubt about that. But photography’s always been more of a passion project. It’s a hard industry. We just want to make sure that you are being smart.”
I swallow hard, the sting of their doubt crawling up my throat.
“And what about being happy?” I ask, voice quieter now, but still steady.
My mom’s expression falters, the emotion in her eyes betraying her disappointment.
“Of course we want you to be happy, Ramona.” Her words are sincere, but her tone is tinged with hurt.
“Then I need you to support this,” I say, the dam cracking just enough for my feelings to seep through. “Because ever since I started that job, I’ve felt like I’m fading. Like I’ve been living someone else’s life, not mine. I only took it because I thought it was what you both wanted.”
They both go quiet again, and I push forward, unable to stop now.
“I’ve only ever done what’s expected of me. What’s safest. But I can’t keep doing that. I have to take a chance on something that makes me feel alive. I need to do this. For me.”
I can see it in my mom’s eyes the moment I finish talking—the flicker of pride mingled with unease, the way her smile doesn’t quite reach all the way. She’s happy for me, but there’s hesitation lurking just beneath the surface.
My parents exchange a glance, silent but full of meaning, their expressions almost identical, equal parts concern and calculation.
My dad presses his lips into a tight line, his brows draw together in thought before he speaks.
“I can tell this means a lot to you, Mona girl,” he says softly. “But we just want to be sure you’re staying safe out there. The music world... it can get messy.”
My mom’s gaze drops to the table, and I know exactly where her thoughts are—old memories resurfacing like ghosts she thought were buried. Memories we rarely talk about, but that hang in the air now, thick and unspoken.
“I get it,” I say gently, meeting both their eyes. “I promise I’ll take care of myself. I’m not going near any of that stuff. I just want to work hard and be part of something that matters to me.”
A long pause follows, but then my dad reaches across the table and takes my mom’s hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods, slowly.
“We trust you. You’ve got our support.”
Relief crashes over me like a wave. My heart swells with gratitude. I know he’s still nervous, that they both are, but I can also see the recognition on their faces. They understand this isn’t just some impulsive detour. It’s something I need. And they’re giving me the confidence to chase it.
“Just promise us that if something happens, you’ll come back immediately.” My mom chimes in, pointing her spatula at me like a warning. “And you will be sharing your location with us.”
I laugh, the tension finally easing. “Of course. I love you.”
They both pull me into a hug, and as I melt into their touch, the excitement truly sets in.
This is happening.
I spot Cody through the diner window, already waiting for me. The sunlight pours through the glass, highlighting the messy tousle of his sandy locks, the way his tattooed arms rest casually on the table, fingers drumming lightly against the surface.
The smell of charred beef and grease fills my nose as I step inside, the chatter of customers and the sizzle of a grill blending into the background.
As soon as he sees me, his face lights up, and he stands to pull me into a bone-crushing hug. He smells faintly of sweat, laced with the sharp, unmistakable bite of drugstore body spray—something like Axe, clinging to his skin in a way that feels both chaotic and boyish.
“Sorry…I should probably apologize in advance for having zero personal boundaries. Please tell me if I’m too much.”
I chuckle, patting his back before pulling away.
“You’re fine. We’re practically best friends already.”
His grin widens, like I just said the greatest thing imaginable. Cody is super cute, but in a way that feels strictly platonic. The kind of person you immediately click with.
We spend the next hour going over the details of the job, signing employment paperwork over fries and milkshakes.
“The bus is set up with bunk beds down the middle,” he explains while dipping a fry into his chocolate shake.
“There are two rooms in the back—one’s for our manager, Vernon, and the other rotates for whoever needs a quiet night. But you can have it since you’re the newbie.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Wait, really? I figured I’d be stuck in a bunk.”
“Nah, you get the VIP treatment for saving our asses.” He winks. “We get hotel rooms when we have multiple days in one place, if the budget allows, so everyone can spread out when we need to.”
He leans forward, lowering his voice like he’s about to confess something serious. “Also… the guys suck at stocking the bus with essentials like snacks and toiletries. If you wanna take over that duty, you’d be our hero. It definitely needs a woman’s touch.”
He immediately winces, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Shit, that sounded misogynistic, didn’t it? I didn’t mean it like that… just that we’re all dumbasses who forget toothpaste and toilet paper.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“No offense taken. I’m happy to make sure no one smells like a feral animal.”
We part ways with a handshake and another hug, and Cody gives me the address to meet them in the morning.
“You’re not going to regret this Ramona,” he says as I open my car door.
“I know I won’t,” I reply, and I believe it. Everything is telling me that this is the start of something great, something I’ve been waiting for.
As I slide into my car, a giddy, nervous energy bubbles inside me. Tomorrow, I leave for Lexington. The first stop on a summer-long tour.
I grip the steering wheel, exhaling slowly. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m settling.
I feel like I’m about to live.