I drop my hands into my lap, exhaling hard.
I refuse to let this get to me.
I refuse to lethimget to me.
I click back into my code, eyes narrowed, fingers poised?—
And then, like some cruel joke from the universe, I hear it again.
The melody.
Playing in my head.
Clear as day.
My jaw clenches so tight, my temples throb.
This isnothappening.It’s been years since I heard the music like this.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my palms into my forehead, trying to erase it, trying to push it out, trying to get my damn brain back from this hostile takeover.
But the melody lingers.
Soft.Persistent.Unshakable.
Like him.
I dig my nails into my palms, exhaling sharply.
No.
I refuse to give in.Joel is an asshole and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.
And yet…
Somewhere, beneath all my frustration, all my denial?—
I’m not sure I believe it.
CHAPTER18
Joel
Tonight feels different.
From the moment I step onto the stage, something in me locks into place.Not all the way—there’s still that hollow space in my ribs, still that restless ache—but it’s quieter.More manageable somehow.
The weight of my guitar is steady in my hands, the hum of anticipation in my veins more fire than nerves.The set already feels stronger than last night.
Because tonight, I havethissong.
The one she helped me fix.
The one shaped by her hands—sharpened by her mind.
The one I haven’t let myself fully admit isoursnow.
I tighten my grip on the neck of my guitar, strumming the first chord.It echoes through the room, clear and sure, settling into the pulse of the crowd.The band holds back, letting me take the lead.My fingers move like they’ve always known where to go, like this song existed in me long before I found the right shape for it.