“I can’t let you buy songs you can’t use.”
“I can’t let someone else sing them.”
“We can write more music together,” he says.
“Sure, but can we recapture the magic ofFirst Light? You think there’s another song that encapsulates the feeling of new love like that? If there is, I’ve never heard it. I’ve never felt a song strike me so deeply—pull from me the newness and fear and raw excitement the way that song does.”
“Not even in Nash’s first album?” he says, almost bitter.
“Not even in that.”
I put my hands on either side of his face, the rumbling of the bus a quiet hum scoring our conversation.
“Let me pay you. Let me buy the songs for a generous amount, and if we ever get to use them, I’ll still give you royalties. Please.”
He lets out a pained grunt, closing his eyes and bumping his head into my shoulder. “No. I can’t let you pay me for the songs. But I will consider letting you loan me money in exchange for future services.”
I waggle my eyebrows at him. “Future services? I didn’t realize you were charging by the makeout now, but I accept the terms.”
He chuckles and pinches my side, making me flinch. Then he leans in, resting his face in the curve of my neck.
“I’ll be your monitor engineer for every tour from here on out.”
“As long as you take a break to help your dad recuperate,” I say.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he murmurs into my ear.
I run my fingers through his thick hair. “I don’t want that, either, but we’re strong enough to weather the storm. I don’t need anyone but you. Even if the label says otherwise.”
“What do you mean? I missed that part.”
I shake my head, exhaustion pulling at me like an anchor.
“The label said I’m not good enough. I’m not interesting enough. They want me to date Connor, even if it’s fake.” My tears had stopped, but one leaks out now. “I won’t do it.”
“They’re lying.”
“They’re not! I’ve seen the reviews from critics and the fan comments.”
“You’re only reading the bad ones. There are a hundred times more that are good—glowing. Lou, you’re an international phenomenon. Your tour sold out in less than half an hour.”
“I know, but that was when I was still a mystery. Now, I’m just a disappointment. She said that tonight.”
“Lou, be rational.”
“Telling an emotional girl that she’s crazy isn’t the way to her heart.”
He scoffs. “I’m not saying you’re crazy, I’m saying you’re stressed—and it’s four in the morning. This pressure is manufactured. The label is doing this because they want to sell more records. For both of you. You’ve already gone double platinum. What, do you need diamond status before you’ll believe how great you are?”
I want to believe him so badly, it hurts.
My neck and back are so stiff from standing straight all night, every night, for weeks.
Three months in.
Three months left, on the other side of Parker’s wedding.
Danny’s surgery.
