AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pushed myself up from the chair so forcefully that it toppled over behind me. I didn't care. Rage fueled my steps as I stormed back toward the elevator.
"Nothing?" Carl called after me. "Not even if I made it worth your while, financially speaking?"
My head whipped around, a surge of disgust coursing through me. He sounded so nonchalant, as if he were discussing the weather rather than proposing to pay me to leave my husband.
My eyes narrowed at his saccharine grin, all white teeth and insincerity. The sight made my skin crawl, and I turned away, waiting impatiently for the elevator doors to open. It took an eternity, as if this asshole purposely wanted his office situated in the literal clouds.
"What, nothing to say?" Carl pressed on. "I heard you were aiming for a Master's degree. Those tend to cost quite a bit of money."
"Yeah, still none of your damn business," I shot back, my back still turned to him. I flipped him the bird before the doors mercifully closed.
My heart pounded in my chest, my fists clenched as I imagined wiping that smug look off his face with a well-aimed punch. I refused to admit that some of what he said made sense; Colt's career probably would skyrocket faster if he were single. But tough luck—I wasn't giving him up.
It would destroy both of us.
Yet, I couldn't shake the nagging doubts festering in the back of my mind. Especially knowing Carl had been in Colt's ear, possibly sowing the same seeds of doubt.
Surprisingly, once I reached the lobby, my phone began vibrating incessantly in my pocket. Ignoring it, I stormed outside, determined to put as much distance between me and that asshole as possible. But the vibrations persisted, and by the third call, I reluctantly fished out my phone to see what could possibly be so urgent.
An unknown number flashed on the screen a fourth time and I answered with a sinking feeling in my gut. Whatever the reason, I knew calling someone four times in a row meant it wouldn’t be good news.
"Hello?"
19. “When It All Falls Apart”
Colton
My hands trembled with a mix of over-caffeination and excitement as I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall outside the sound booth. Less than an hour remained before I could escape to the freedom of my lonely townhouse. I should have been exhausted after weeks of relentless recording sessions in the stifling studio and enduring the monotonous drone of bland record executives lecturing me about the need to make my music more commercial. Which was ironic, considering they had signed me precisely because I didn't sound like every other auto-tuned singer regurgitating recycled tunes to appeal to the masses. Yet here I was, bombarded daily with demands to dilute my creativity into mediocrity no matter how many times I told them to fuck off.
Even the persistent throbbing headache, my constant companion since relocating to LA, faded into the background in anticipation of finally hearing Gray's voice tonight. It had been a struggle with our conflicting schedules to find time to send more than a few texts, but we always tried to speak on the phone every couple of days. But it had been ten days—TEN—since I last heard from Gray. He'd been consumed with finishing the football season, leaving no spare moment for anything beyond sleep. I understood his circumstances perfectly. Unfortunately, my heart didn't operate on the same logical wavelength, and I missed him with an intensity that defied expression. And I was worried about him, especially after he didn’t call me for Thanksgiving.
Throughout our entire relationship, we'd been inseparable. Some might argue we were unhealthily codependent, but those individuals clearly hadn't found their person yet. It wasn't codependent to love someone so deeply that their absence felt like a piece of you had been ripped away.
Our scheduled phone calls were the only tether keeping me from throwing in the towel and retreating back to Missouri. Gray would undoubtedly be pissed at the mere suggestion of me abandoning my dreams so easily. But he didn’t quite grasp the depth of it all. Music had been my first love, my raison d'être for years. Gray understood that, and I cherished how he’d become just as invested in my aspirations as I was. Yet, if push came to shove, there wasn’t even a question. Music may have been my heart, but Gray was my soul. Every fiber of my being belonged to him.
Which brought me to the source of my current excitement. Gray had texted early this morning, announcing that he’d finally sorted everything out and would call me at seven tonight. Meaning, not only would I get to bask in the warmth of his rich caramel voice once more, and hopefully indulge in some much-needed phone sex, but it also meant we’d finally have a date to look forward to. Gray had promised he’d finally book his flight out here for Christmas once midterms were over, finally giving us a tangible date set for when we could end this torturous separation. Albeit, temporarily. He wouldn’t be able to move out here until at least the beginning of summer. Still, waking up every morning and seeing the days on the calendar tick down until I could wrap his arms around me again would imbue me with a renewed sense of purpose and assurance that everything would indeed be okay.
Too impatient to focus on anything else for the remainder of the day, I gathered my guitar and backpack to head home. Braving the chaotic LA traffic kept my mind occupied enough to divert my attention from the relentless ticking of minutes on the illuminated dashboard of the black SUV loaned to me by the label. Pulling into the driveway of my rented townhouse—a token gesture from my record company—the nervous excitement surged, coaxing an uncharacteristic grin to spread across my lips. Fuck, I’d turned into a total sap. And oddly enough, I didn’t mind one bit.
In my compact yet sleekly modern kitchen, my distracted state meant I managed to burn the chicken I’d been searing for dinner, and then attempted to microwave some leftovers in a metal bowl I’d found in the fridge. Giving up on the idea of eating, my gaze darted to my phone every few seconds, willing it to ring.
At 7:04pm, my anxiety reached a fever pitch, culminating in uncontrollable fidgeting. When Gray’s photo flashed up on the display screen, I snatched my phone from the coffee table with lightning speed. Clearly, I had zero chill for my husband.
Ugh, just thinking those two magic words sent a thrill through me every damn time. My husband.
“Gray, thank fuck! I’ve missed you so much!” I blurted out, not even giving him a chance to say hello.
“Colt,” Gray breathed out my name. His voice, though familiar, sounded different—almost troubled. But that didn’t make any sense.
“Yeah, Gray?” I heard the trepidation in my tone.
“Colt, I’m so sorry.” Gray’s voice, strained and choked with emotion, sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach plummeted. Something was very wrong.
“Gray, please talk to me, baby. What happened? What are you sorry for? If it’s for not being able to call, it’s okay,” I reassured him, my heart pounding in my chest.
A heavy silence hung between us, thick with tension, and my anxiety escalated.
“I made a mistake,” he finally uttered, barely above a whisper.
