"You should probably get some sleep. It's been a long day."
"I don't want to sleep." I turn to face him fully. "I want to listen to something."
"Like what?"
"Anything."
He stands and heads over to the computer, scrolling through files for a moment before selecting something.
He hits play.
The opening notes fill the studio—clean acoustic guitar, layered and intimate, building slowly. It sounds like a blend of Goo Goo Dolls and Lifehouse, that emotional vulnerability wrapped in perfectly crafted melody. The kind of song that gets under your skin immediately.
I close my eyes, letting it wash over me.
"Is this The Row's latest track?" I ask, recognizing the production quality, the careful arrangement.
"No," he says quietly. "It's just something I wrote a while back."
And then his voice kicks in through the speakers.
I freeze.
It's him. Singing. Not producing, not in the background—front and center, raw and honest and devastating.
The lyrics are about longing. About distance. About loving someone from afar and wondering if they feel it too. About missing someone who's standing right in front of you. About second chances and roads not taken and the space between wanting and having.
It's not explicitly about us.
But it is.
Every word. Every note. Every carefully crafted line.
My chest tightens. My throat goes dry.
I open my eyes and find him watching me, waiting for my reaction.
"Nate," I breathe.
But I don't know what else to say.
Because he just played me his heart, wrapped in melody, and I'm sitting here realizing he's been carrying this—carrying us—the entire time.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting back down in front of me.
I shift closer. "I need to say this while I'm brave enough and not overthinking everything."
He goes still, but doesn't move away.
"Okay," he says quietly. "I'm listening."
I take a breath, gathering my thoughts, grateful that the water has cleared enough of the fog that I know what I'm saying.
Know what I want.
“When Wes showed up—" My voice catches. "You didn't hesitate. You just stepped in between us like it was the most natural thing in the world."
“Because it was,” he says simply.
