by Piper Lawson
I wait until he’s retreated to the hall before I close the door quietly and let the tears stream down my face.
17
The next few days feel like I’m going through the motions. Finishing media that suddenly feels pointless. Fending off offers from my agent, which are exploding now that I have a new album. Calling my housekeeper to make sure everything’s set for when I get back. Packing up my clothes, both the T-shirts and the preppy ones.
Endings always suck, and I can’t decide which are worse. The kind where you’re ripped apart, where nothing but evil forces could keep you separated?
Or the kind that happens when you’re an adult and you have to walk away on your own steam.
Definitely that one.
“I’m sad you’re leaving.” The boy’s murmured voice has me glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Me too,” Annie says back.
I clear my throat. “We’re almost at Tyler’s house.”
“Can we drive around a little more?” Annie pleads.
Two pairs of eyes find mine in the mirror.
They’re kids. It shouldn’t get to me.
Except it’s like stomping on my soul that’s already beaten and bloody.
“Ten more minutes,” I say.
They continue to talk in the back, quietly with little bursts of laughter thrown in. Like they’ll never get to talk again, even though something tells me they’ll be texting every night for weeks.
If someone had told me three months ago we’d get this comfortable in Philly, I’d have called them out on it.
But I like seeing my old band mates. Driving around town in my rental that’s almost as familiar as my Bentley.
Annie’s even settled in at school.
I slow the car when I realize whose neighborhood we’re in. Big houses watch over the street, tucked behind trees older than me and the kids put together.
I notice the sign before the house, and I hit the brakes. “What the fuck…”
“What’s wrong?” Annie chirps from the back seat, suddenly alert.
I pull over and start to dial her number, then I change my mind and hit another.
“Hello, this is Serena.”
“Her house is for sale. Why.”
Annie and Tyler are looking on now.
“Jax.” She blows out a breath. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”
“Tell me.”
“She’s been thinking about it for awhile. I guess she decided it was time to make a change.”
Time to make a change.
The sign seems to taunt me, which is fucking weird, because I’m not in the habit of hearing voices from dead guy’s Victorian mansions.
I’ve been thinking about what she said about Cross bringing us together.
Now, she’s leaving the company. Selling the house.
It’s like she’s shedding the last part of him, which shouldn’t bug me because God knows I wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan.
But it feels more final than our ending, like she’s erasing the past somehow. I’m not just losing her, I’m losing what brought us together. Our common ground, and I’m just sitting here staring at the damned sign like a moron.
I need to be back in Dallas. Not just because of Annie. Because that’s what I chose. It’s my life.
But I’ve spent a lot of time beating myself up for what I should do.
Resolve sets in. “Get her to take the house off the market. Say whatever you have to. That your rat infested the attic with rabies. I don’t care. And I want a meeting. Now. The band. Lita. You. No Haley.”
I hang up.
“What’s going on?” Annie asks.
“Change of plans.” I wheel the car around.
18
Haley
When I enter Carter’s office, it’s the same as I remember it, plus a few new awards. The walls are covered in obscure-looking equations and comic book covers. It’s perfect for him. He’s a genius who refuses to grow up.
“I have an idea for a new project,” I say.
I explain it to him. He listens, raising a brow on his unusually tan face.
When I finish, my former professor’s eyes sparkle. “What happened to Mr. Teenager-bait Musician?”
I shouldn’t be surprised he knows about Jax. “He was here to cut an album. It’s over.”
Jax left two weeks ago.
Fifteen days if you’re counting.
We’ve texted a bit but he’s been especially vague about his activities since returning to Dallas. And neither of us has suggested talking on the phone.
Probably because he gets, like I do, that we can’t continue the way we were here. There’s a new normal and we need to respect that if we’re going to move forward with our lives.
I keep telling myself it’s going to be fine, but I miss having him here, smelling him, laughing with him, lying next to him.
“Carter, if you’re gunning to be my rebound, I’m flattered. But it’s not going to happen. Business only.”
He shrugs. “Fine. I’ve been in Costa Rica for the last six weeks. Might go back. I don’t need some kid hanging all over me.”
I know he’s joking about the last part. “You’ve been there six weeks?”
“Never even noticed, did you?” He smirks. “The beauty of the internet. School semester wrapped in April, which means if I’m not teaching, I can work anywhere. Should’ve tried it ages ago.”
We hash out a plan for the app on his whiteboard, and I confirm when I can code the first part by.
“Huh. You really are done with your other life.”
The words hit me. My other life.
Is that what it’ll feel like in a few months? That it was another lifetime? The thought makes my chest ache.
I leave Carter’s office and walk around. Campus is quiet, but a few students are chatting along the paths, on the benches. I could’ve been one of them.
I still can. I can do anything I want.
I’m keeping my shares in the company. But I’m done working at Wicked.
On the way home, I call Serena. “Hey. Do you want to hang out tonight?”
“I’d love to, but I need to work late.” My friend sounds strange, as if maybe she feels badly that she’s still all-in at Wicked when I’m trying to move on.
“Sure, no problem.” I swing in the doors of the house.
“I do need a coffee break though. So talk to me. Any offers on the house?”
I hear her chair creak in the background and picture her going to the kitchen for java.
“Yes, finally.” I think of the FOR SALE sign in the driveway. I don’t need five thousand square feet of Century-home luxury and I’ve been meaning to list the house for months. It finally feels like the right time. “We wondered why it was taking so long but my realtor found this blog post about the house being haunted. Apparently that sparked interest like crazy.”
“Huh.” She sounds far away. “Perfect. Listen. How are you doing with the whole Jax leaving thing?”
I blow out a breath. “It sucks,” I say honestly. “I’m trying to focus on a new program with Carter, then I pull out my phone and start typing some emotional text to Jax. I can’t send them because we agreed we’d be grownups about this.” I sigh out a breath. “Just tell me one thing. Are we still getting messages about the album?”
“It’s insane,” she replies immediately. “Everyone’s connecting to it, feeling it. I mean, come on. It went platinum.”
I feel the weight on my shoulders lift a little. “I don’t care about that part, Serena. I’m just so glad he made it. That it matters to people.”
I don’t know if it’s my words or the wistfulness in my voice that has her concerned. “Haley, maybe we should talk. I can duck out of work in an hour or so—”
“No, it’s fine. Seriously. But can I borrow Scrunchie tonight?”
“Of course. And we’re on for lunch tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I pick up
Scrunchie using my spare key for Serena’s apartment and take him home.
Then I curl up on the couch, stick in my earbuds and hit Play on the album I’ve been waiting to listen to like this.
To feel.
To remember.
I’ve listened to these tracks hundreds of times. Spent hours tweaking them. Now, Jax’s voice seducing me through the headphones is pure catharsis.
“The ground under your feet shifts with everyone you meet
You have a choice, a chance
To keep it all and curse your fate
Tell yourself it’s all too late
Keep counting wrongs until they’re right or find a new line of sight.”
Tears roll down my cheeks through my eyelids. Not because I’m sad.
Because I’m happy.
I’m so fucking happy he made this for the world.
Made it for me.
For all of us.
Scrunchie sniffs my neck in support.
After awhile, I force myself to open my notebook computer and go through emails.
Tomorrow’s my last official day at Wicked. I need to turn in my pass, and clean out my office.
I scroll through the emails, Scrunchie shifting under my hand as I stroke his soft back.
Maybe I need a skunk.
An email comes in from Tyler asking about our last day in studio. I think of his bright future, snuffed out by Wicked’s failing.
I had to tell the kids this week that the program’s cut. I didn’t tell them that the recordings are Wicked’s property.
Now, hearing Jax’s album, that seems like the bigger crime.
An idea comes to me.
You can’t make him Jax, a voice says. But you can protect his work. His voice.
Shifting upright so fast I almost dump Scrunchie from my lap, I dig out the contact list from our board of directors materials.
Then I reach for my phone.
19
Haley
Last night I slept with Scrunchie in my bed. I like to think it fortified me for the day ahead.
I get up and shower, then I pull on my battle gear.
Jeff gives me a double take as I sweep in the front doors. “Morning, Miss Telfer.”
“Morning, Jeff.” I hitch the empty box on my hip, my Converse sneakers silent on the carpet.
Upstairs, I clean out the office, giving instructions to a man from a moving company on how to care for my father’s art.
“You can’t take that.”
A cold voice has me looking toward the door. “Excuse me?”
Todd sneers. “That’s company property.”
“It’s my father’s.”
“Shannon Cross would’ve driven this company into the ground if he’d been here longer. His death—and you selling out—were the best things to happen to Wicked in its history.”
I lift the picture and hold it against my chest like a shield. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“He had a chance to hire me. He didn’t.”
I lower the picture as understanding dawns. “Can I give you some advice, Todd?” I don’t wait for him to respond. “Getting revenge on a dead man is hard. Getting anything from a dead man is hard. Respect. Love. Attention. If that’s all you want out of life, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
His gaze narrows, and I lay the frame carefully on the desk.
I lift the file I brought then nestle it under my arm.
I feel Todd on my heels as I pass through the familiar halls down to Derek’s office, where I knock before opening the door.
He’s on a call and stares at me as I grab the handset from him. “Sorry. This will only take a second, Derek will call you right back.” I hang up.
“Haley. What the hell?”
He shifts back in his chair.
“I have something for you to sign. My lawyer drew these up.” I set the file in front of him. “The rights to the recordings and files from the after-school program.”
His brows rise. “I didn’t realize this was on your mind.” He flips through the pages. “We need to put this by the board.”
“I already did. I circulated the proposal by email yesterday and got sign-offs from the other major shareholders.”
His confusion grows. “So if they’ve signed off, this is a formality?”
“It’s done, Derek,” I say, relishing the words a bit too much. “But I thought I’d give you the respect of asking for your signature as CEO.”
Todd grunts. “You can’t take those. That’s years worth of recordings. Terabytes of data.”
I glance over my shoulder, acknowledging him for the first time. “What I’m paying for the rights to those recordings is more than fair. Especially considering you called them worthless.”
And it is. In fact, it’ll be the proceeds from the sale of my house.
Derek signs and I close the folder with a smile. “Gentlemen. I’ll see you in the next board meeting.”
I stride back down the hall to my office. At the computer I’m about to leave, I double-check that all the relevant files have been uploaded, as I requested from IT, and removed from Wicked’s file system.
A feeling of satisfaction works through me. Everything the kids created in that studio since the program’s inception is mine.
In legal terms only.
Really, it’s theirs.
“Haley!” Serena calls from a window as I take my boxes out to my car. I load my car and wait until she comes down, out of breath. “Damn, running isn’t as good for me as it’s supposed to be.”
“Am I late for lunch?”
“No. You’re right on time.”
“Good. Because after, I’m going on a little trip.”
“Where?”
“Dallas.” I grin. “I need to tell Jax something, and it’s better in person.”
A strange look crosses her face. “Fine. But after lunch.” She trots in front of me, and I follow her around the building.
“Where are we going?” I call after her.
Serena stops in front of a massive bus that has me freezing in my tracks.
“Why is Jax’s bus here.” The doors are open, and my friend’s acting like I didn’t just ask a question. “Serena…”
Before I can find words, a form appears in the doorway.
Jeans.
A tight T-shirt.
Messy hair.
Amber eyes that stop my heart when they find me. “Hi, Hales.”
Jax.
I try to say the word, but all I can manage is to keep breathing.
Being around him has that effect on me, whether I haven’t seen him in days or years.
Finally, enough synapses fire to create language.
“What are you doing here?”
“Apparently I bought this years ago. It’s how I kept other people off it.”
“Don’t tell me you blew through your money already and have to tour again.”
“Not quite. I did have some ideas for how to spend my retirement, though.”
He invites me onto the bus, and with only a moment’s hesitation, I follow him up the stairs. My jaw drops.
The living room has been redone. Instead of dark maroon, it’s white with bright colors. He leads me through where the curtain used to be. Now, it’s a clear door.
“What the…” His couch and other furniture is gone. In its place, equipment. Instruments. “It’s a studio?”
“Yup. On wheels.”
“But how did you—”
“Acoustics? Jerry helped spec it out. We redid the interior.” He pats the inside wall. “Put on a few layers of absorption materials. Keeps outside noise out and all the good stuff in. I finally got to put those home reno skills to good use.”
I can barely take it all in. “It’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but why did you do this?”
He grabs my hand. I try to ignore the tingling as I wrap my fingers tighter in his. He pulls me back to the front of the bus, where Serena’s leaning against
the wall with a dopey expression on her face.
“You didn’t notice the pictures?” he asks.
Now I do.
They’re the ones from the studio, of the kids. Intermingled with ones from Jax’s tours. On stage, and on the road. Images of Jerry, Lita, Mace, Kyle, Brick, Nina, me. Even one of Cross.
My gaze catches on a plaque at the front, and I run a hand over it. “‘Big Leap Studio,’” I read under my breath.
“Now we can take it to kids at any school.”
“Wait—what do you mean we?”
His eyes gleam. “Come on. You didn’t think I’d let you produce without me? Jerry wants a proper retirement, and you can’t supervise a dozen junior high students alone.”
“You’re staying?”
Jax nods, and my breath sticks in my throat. “Here, Dallas, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m tired of doing what I decided I wanted years ago. Because I don’t need to lock myself away. Everything we’ve done here has made me realize I have choices. I always have, even if it didn’t feel that way.” Tingles run up my arm and I glance down to see him rubbing a circle in my palm. “Annie’s on board, and Grace has agreed to a schedule of sharing time. Because I need my kid, but I also need you, Hales. I love the shit out of you. I think it started the night you got my phone back. Or maybe when you told me I was second best to Leonard Cohen.” His dry comment has me grinning. “The point is… If you’re my cliff, I’ll take you every time without looking back.”
My chest is so tight I think I’m suffocating. But it can’t be, because I’m expanding from the inside out. It’s as if I’m going to burst from all of it, and rationally I know it’s impossible, but I can’t come up with another explanation for the fluttering of my heart, the shivers across my skin.
“But… I was going to come to you,” I say when I can manage it. Words are hard when he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to everything, but I try. “I needed to do something that mattered, and I thought that’s what I was doing by taking over Wicked. I wanted something bigger than me.” I think of the kids’ music. Music that’s now theirs. “But I realized that I don’t want to do something bigger than us, Jax. I don’t want to believe there’s anything bigger than us. And we can’t have an ending, because I’m not done loving you yet.” His amber gaze works over mine, his jaw tight with emotion. “I love you more than I thought I could love someone. It’s then and it’s now and I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. But I want to find out with you.”