Millions watching.
The kind of gig that cements legacy.
The kind of project I live for.
But as the adrenaline hums through me, something else does too.
A flicker of hesitation.
Because accepting that means calls.
Meetings. Travel. Press.
Noise.
It means the vampire, tapping at the window again.
“You gonna do it?” Nate asks.
I stare out the back window toward the tree line.
Toward the town beyond it.
Toward a bookstore with warm lights and wild curls behind the counter.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
That’s new.
I always know.
This is who I am.
What I do.
I build soundtracks for chaos.
But lately?
I’ve been craving quiet.
And I don’t know if I can have both.
My phone buzzes again.
Emails.
Contracts.
Deadlines.
I guess this world I left hasn’t left me.
It’s just sitting there, biding time. Waiting.
And sooner or later?
I’m going to have to decide whether Hammonton is a vacation.