Page 9 of The Song We Lost

She hadn't wanted to sign the contract without me. She had been scouted early, and they only wanted her. She was willing to turn it down and wait for us to get picked up together. But I told her she couldn't turn it down; it was our dream. Our chance. I promised that I would be with her every step of the way. Bailey’s voice had been soft but sure when she said it.

“Ok, Luke. I will sign. I will do this. So our families can have everything they ever dreamed of. So we can go back home.”

The memory drops away, leaving my chest tight and aching. I thought I’d catch up. That if she could do it, so could I... and I'd be right behind her.

I didn’t know how fast she’d run or how slow I’d feel standing still.

“I can’t lose her,” I say suddenly, the words tearing out of me.

Noah looks up from his phone. He’s on a call with our parents now. I can hear them in the background; he's nodding and smiling widely. I catch fragments, Bailey’s name, a property, excitement, and plans for the future. He tries to call me over, but I wave him off.

Not now.I can’t hear this right now.

He hesitates, then turns away, lowering his voice. I don’t register what he’s saying. I can’t.

I scroll through my calendar instead, fingers shaking as I count the days. I have the time, I can make the time.

“I’m going home,” I say.

Noah ends the call and looks at me carefully. “You sure?”

“I have to,” I say. “I’ll make it right.”

I don’t know what that looks like yet. I just know I can’t stand here pretending everything’s fine while the one thing that’s ever mattered to me slips away.

I don’t think about how many times I’ve said that before.

I don’t let myself count them.

I pack up as quickly as I can, asking Noah to let me know where to meet the band.

As I head for the door, one thought pulses loud and clear in my head:

I can still fix this.

chapter 4

bailey

. . .

Iwake up in the Nashville house alone, sunlight creeping in through floor-to-ceiling windows that were meant to feel luxurious and instead feel hollow. The sheets on the other side of the bed are cold, untouched.Empty. Our house was never supposed to feel like this.

I lie there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the city just outside our gated property. Cars. Sirens. Life continuing on without me.Without us.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad down the hallway, barefoot on polished floors that still don’t feel like home. Nothing here does. Not the expensive furniture. Not the framed photos that feel more like set dressing than moments in time. It all feels like a waste, like a lie.

I don't want polished marble. I... I miss uneven wooden floors, wood stoves, and home.

I misshim.

But I have been alone in this marriage for too long.

I asked Rachel to look into divorce lawyers last night. Someone I could trust to represent me and be discreet... quiet. I didn’t tell her I was sure. I’m not. I just told her I was tired. Tired of feeling alone in a marriage meant for two people. Tired of waiting for a version of my husband who only seems to exist in apologies. But that’s the thing, apologies without follow-through start to feel like rehearsals instead of remorse.

I make a whole pot of coffee I won't drink on my own out of habit and sit at the kitchen island, opening my laptop because I need something to make me feel good again.

The plans are already pulled up.