February 14th—last year.
Valentine’s Day.
I frown.
That was the day he gave me this stupid envelope.
My pulse pounds as I unfold the letter.
Anna,
I know this doesn’t fix anything.I know it doesn’t change what I did.I stole from you and I don’t expect forgiveness.
But I want you to have what was always yours.The song, the rights—every cent it’s ever made.It belongs to you.It always has.
I never should have taken it from you, and if I could go back and change it, I would.But I can’t.So instead, I’ll do the only thing I can.
After tonight, I won’t play it again.
Not on stage.Not in interviews.Not for an encore.It’s yours.I had no right to it.
I’m sorry, Ace.
—Joel
The words blur as I read them again.
And again.
After tonight, I won’t play it again.
My throat tightens.
He thought I’d open this letter that night.
That I’d read it immediately.
He thought I’d know.
And all this time—a year and a half later—I had no clue.Hell, he’s been in my house for four days and he hasn’t even said anything.
The song is his biggest hit.He could have played it forever and no one would have questioned it.
I grab my phone with numb fingers, pulling up YouTube.
I type his name, my breath coming faster as I scroll through the search results.
Tour dates.Interviews.Live performances.
But the song?
I can’t find it.
I switch to Google.
I dig through fan sites and forums.
Why did Joel Price suddenly stop playing his biggest hit?