“You out for lunch?” I ask Serena when I call her on Monday afternoon.
“Yeah. You want to join?”
She gives me directions, and I meet her at the fast-healthy place. A familiar black-and-white fluff ball is in her arms.
“We had to go to the vet this morning,” she informs me when I sit down.
“He looks very healthy.”
“I think he’s depressed. He doesn’t play like he used to.”
I debate how much to say. “He is…” I lower my voice as if it makes a difference, “…old.”
“No way. Skunks live two to three years in the wild, but they can live up to ten in a loving home. It’s proof!”
“Of what?”
She sighs. “That all you need is love.” I can’t help but laugh at her over-the-top gushing. “Although it also occurred to me that maybe he needs another kind of love. You know.” Her gaze narrows. “Something more physical?”
Oh, God.
“I thought about putting an ad on Craigslist for someone with a female skunk who wants to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. Or that ad,” I beg her.
Serena sighs, looking past me. “Fine. I’ve put in our order, but you need to go pick it up. They won’t let Scrunchie in.”
I reach over to stroke a finger over his soft head. “Sorry, handsome.”
I go in and grab our food, then come back to the metal table and chairs outside.
Serena lifts her sandwich off the tray and I reach for my salad. “So Jerry’s party was bomb,” she says. “It’s been written up on five blogs in the last forty-eight hours.”
“I saw you with a guy. Scratch that. A man.” I think of the tall, dark and confident form I’d seen her laughing with at one point.
“Jacob Prince. He’s got a jewelry company.”
The name scratches at my brain as I stab a forkful of lettuce and cheese. “Prince Diamonds?”
“The one and only. He’s a New Yorker, happened to be in town for the weekend. We went to boarding school together.”
“Really?” I chew, studying her face.
“The man’s got issues, but all the good ones do. The stories our crew had... Skunk sex has nothing on boarding school, believe me.” She grins and I’m almost tempted to ask. “But speaking of men too handsome for their own good, I saw Jax in a tux.” She fans herself. “Tell me you were unaffected by that.”
I reach for my pop. “Dead women were affected by that.”
Her laugh makes Scrunchie jump. “I think I heard your vagina cry a little.” Serena breaks off a piece of her sandwich and slips it to the hopeful-looking fluffball in her lap. He takes it, watching me with beady eyes as he munches.
I spear some more of my lunch, chewing and swallowing before I speak again. “I told him. About the pregnancy and the miscarriage.”
“Whoa. What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
I lift a shoulder. “I dropped it on him and then ran. He got to do it last time. Figured it was my turn.”
“So he didn’t have the decency to feel like a giant lump of shit for not getting back to you? I was ready to drag his ass back here, you know I was.”
Her loyalty warms me as I set the fork down in the bowl. “I know.” And he would’ve come back.
But I still remember the words I’d said to him in the shower after Mace was in the hospital. The promise I’d asked him to make.
Don’t regret me. Ever.
“I don’t want him to say he’s sorry, Serena. To do anything out of obligation. That’s why I didn’t go after him when I found out.
“He loves Annie, but I saw on his face when he told me about her that he never wanted another mistake. I never want to be his mistake.” I take a deep breath to combat the way my gut twists.
She squeezes my hand and my smile fades.
“He did come through in one way. He gave me the songs.”
“And do they sound like a platinum album?”
Disappointment wrings through me. “They’re not what we need.” She grimaces. “I saw what it took for Lita’s album to hit gold. I know Jax can do more, his fans want more. But it has to be real. Todd’s breathing down my neck. I really think he wants to watch me break.”
“Clearly he doesn’t know you. So what’s the B plan?”
“That was the F plan.” I blow out a breath. “Something told me if I got Jax back here, got his band and a studio, magic would happen. Maybe it’s not that simple. Maybe I’m missing something.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have it anymore.”
My spine stiffens as objection rises up in me. I shake my head, hard enough to send my hair hitting me in the face and have Scrunchie watching me with suspicion. “No. That’s not it. The month I spent on tour, even the fall after that, I had this idea that my program would explain how Jax Jamieson does how he does.
“It got close, helped make good songs better, but even it couldn’t take bad songs and make them good. Or great songs and make them mind-blowing.
“Because I realized something. Jax’s magic isn’t the words he writes, or the chords he plays. It’s that he feels like no one else does, that he can translate it into this catharsis for the rest of us. But right now, he doesn’t want to feel. He’s opted out. I don’t know how to change that.”
Her smile is sad. “I love that you won’t make it his fault. No matter what, you won’t believe he’s less than a god. Even after everything.”
I rub my hands over my face. “You think it’s stupid.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
My phone dings and there’s a new text. “What…?”
Jax: Hales. Thought you might want to check this out
Jax: We recorded it on Annie’s phone.
I hit Play on the track, and sound streams out. The quality isn’t great, but what I hear is.
My heart thuds. “Are you getting this?”
Serena’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
I type back as fast as I can.
Haley: I love it
A few moments later, he texts back.
Jax: For real?
Haley: It’s going on the album. Got any more where that came from?
Dots appear. Then he sends a sound file.
“You ever look at a guy like you’re looking at that phone right now, you’d have a boyfriend by now.”
I grin. “Shut up.”
Haley: You wrote two songs last night?
The dots appear again.
Followed by the most beautiful words I’ve ever read.
Jax: I wrote four
Studios never sleep. Some of the most iconic tracks in rock, jazz, and country history were laid down at all hours of the day and night.
Still, the regular staff tend to stick to the daylight hours. It’s the big artists and a handful of execs responsible for the lights after dark.
Wednesday night in my office, the door is mostly closed and it’s late, but I’m listening to a track that has my entire body buzzing.
It’s not one of our big artists. It’s one that matters more.
“What do you think?” Tyler stares at me from across the desk. His blue eyes match his hair, and though I’ve witnessed it blue, green, and black, I struggle to remember if I’ve seen its natural color. One foot’s tucked up on the chair in front of him, not because he’s casual but because he’s nervous.
“It’s really good. You cut the reverb—”
“Yeah, I ran it through DRE and it came up with some suggestions. But I also scrapped some of the recos.” He shows me, his fingers flying over my computer keyboard to adjust settings. His gaze is as jerky over the screen as his voice is smooth over the speakers.
I nod as I listen. “Yeah, okay.”
“How’d you even come up with the idea for DRE? Did you always want to make music better?”
I can’t help smiling, because I love how this kid’s mind works. He’s always curious, always wanting to know why and how. “Actually, I wanted a way to explain the music that changed my life. The part about making music better happened by accident.”
I hit Play on the song again and listen to the changes he made.
Excitement bubbles through me.
And shit, this is why I do this.
Once I thought the words mattered more than the chords, the melody. I was wrong.
Nothing matters more than anything else. All of it matters, together.
Movement from the doorway has me looking up.
Any instinct to chastise falls away when I see whose face it is.
The faded blue T-shirt hugs Jax’s chest and arms, skimming over his abs, none of which seem to have softened over the years.
The jeans hang low on his hips, and I force my attention to his face.
Since he sent me the songs yesterday, he’s been rehearsing, and I’ve been busy working too.
His gaze lands on Tyler, whose hands stiffen on the chair arms. “Mr. Jamieson.”
“Tyler.”
They stare each other down.
Is this is how bullfights start? Because Tyler looks like he desperately needs something to distract the very big and very irritated form in the doorway from charging.
I clear my throat, looking pointedly toward Tyler when Jax acknowledges me.
Finally, Jax speaks. “Kid. About the other night. I might have got the wrong impression.”
Tyler nods vigorously. “You did. Annie’s my friend. She’s really cool. She knows more about music than anyone.”
“Really?” That comment seems to throw Jax for a loop.
“Uh-huh. I mean, it makes sense. She has killer taste. The playlists on her phone are all over the place and she knows the entire discography of bands I’ve never heard of.”
“She does?”
“You should get going,” I say to Tyler. “The bus stops running soon.”
“I brought my bike.”
I shoot him a look. “It’s not safe to ride that at midnight.”
His lopsided grin, as if I’m worrying too much, has my chest expanding. “I’m good.”
But he slides out of the chair and gives Jax a bit of a berth as he leaves.
Jax drops into the chair next to the one Tyler vacated. “Parents don’t care where he is?”
“No.”
Jax’s chin drops, because he knows what that’s like. “Been a while since I was here.” He inspects the armrests before his attention returns to me. “The view from this seat’s improved.”
I flush even before his gaze drifts down my body. He stiffens.
“Hales?” The look on his face slips from curiosity to wariness.
“Yeah.”
“Is that my hoodie?”
I pulled it on over my dress earlier. It looks ridiculous, but people don’t usually walk in on me at midnight. “It’s cozy.”
“I didn’t think you’d keep it.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Are you kidding?” I lean in, lowering my voice. “It’s signed by Jax Jamieson.”
His perfect mouth curves, and my stomach turns over.
I forgot how addictive it is to have him look at me like that.
“Um. The songs you sent are amazing. How’s rehearsal?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re nearly ready to record.”
“Great. Derek will get you on the schedule.”
"Who's producing?”
I suck in a breath. “I was thinking me. And Todd.”
“No.”
The hurt cuts me quick. “Jax, come on—”
“I don’t want that asshole on my album. Just you. And Jerry. Apparently a few days into retirement and he’s already restless.”
My heart skips, and for a moment, everything in the world is bright. “Todd’s not going to like that.”
“Do I look like I care?”
The grin threatens to split my face.
No matter what we’ve been through, how close or how far apart, he’s still the biggest rock star in the world. I’ll always be in awe of him.
Jax shifts forward, the shirt pulling over his biceps and dragging my gaze to the ink on his arm.
I wonder if he’s gotten any new tattoos.
I wonder if he’d let me look for myself.
“You were right,” he says.
I blink. “About what?”
“Annie. She’s into music. I didn’t know how much.”
“She can come play with other kids if she wants.” The words bump into one another, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. It’s a stupid reaction, considering the things he’s done to me and said to me. “I’ll email the schedule to you.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, the few days of scruff there.
I want to be that hand. Or that jaw.
He leans back in his chair. It’s my office, but he looks like a king holding court.
Jax’s gaze skims the surface of the desk and lands on the corner. “Need a break?”
“No,” I say too fast.
His amber eyes sparkle. “It’ll only take a minute, Hales.”
“Oh, you think so?” The challenge on his face has me shutting the lid of my notebook computer and sliding it off to the side.
He flashes me a grin. One of those devastating smiles that shouldn’t be legal.
He reaches for the chess board at the corner of the desk, careful not to disturb the pieces.
Excitement tingles through me.
“Last game was a blowout,” he says.
“That was a long time ago.”
He grabs two pieces, one white and one black, and puts them behind his back. I nod to one side, and he reveals the black piece.
“Go,” I say.
He does.
My attention snaps from him to the board in an instant.
We play like old times. With one important difference.
“You got good,” he says after a few moves.
I smile, toying with the string on the hoodie. “I still play at least twice a week.”
Jax shakes his head, admiring my play. “You make any mistakes anymore?”
“Some days it feels like all I do is make mistakes.”
The words are out before I can think about them.
The look in his eyes isn’t judgment or sympathy. It’s understanding.
He reaches up to pull on his hair, rubbing a frustrated hand over his neck and dragging my attention up from the board.
When he speaks again, his voice is low and urgent.
“Hales. I can’t sleep knowing what you went through alone.” I swallow, fighting the emotion that threatens to rise up. “Is that why you sold Wicked? Because you miscarried?”
I find a smile. “I sold it because I was pregnant. I have enough money. I wanted time, and space.”
His face fills with anguish. “You must’ve thought I was such an asshole.”
“No. I was upset when we broke up, I’m not going to lie. But I don’t blame you, Jax. It must have been hard when I chose Wicked. I know you hated Cross.”
Jax leans forward, closing the distance between us. Moody amber eyes hold mine in a grip that won’t let go.
“Not as much as I loved you.”
Words have the power to take your life, to shape it.
To put your heart back together when you’d swear it was broken forever.
I wonder if he can see every emotion on my face. Maybe he can, because his gaze darkens on mine, his throat working.
We’re inches apart. Too far and too close at once. I’m desperate to change it, I just don’t know which way.
Jax nods toward the board without breaking my gaze. “Your move, Hales.”