Page 72 of Where the Music Grows

I can’t talk to her right now.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” I say and keep walking. “I need to work on that song,” I mutter, not stopping.

I head straight to my room and close the door behind me. I jerk open the closet and pull out some clean clothes. I stomp into the bathroom, suddenly very anxious to get clean. I scrub my skin, trying to wash away the night before, but the water can’t wash away the knot in my stomach. The water pounds against my neck and shoulders as I try to think it through. How could she not tell me? I’ve shared everything with her. My mom. My dad. My dreams. My fears.

And she couldn’t tell me she was married?

I turn off the water and grab a towel, still fuming. I can’t believe I let myself fall for someone who would lie to me like this. Not by what she said, but by what she didn’t say.

Back in my room, I throw on some clothes and grab my notebook. Usually, writing helps me sort through my feelings, but today the words won’t come. I stare at the blank page, tapping my pen against it.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jinnie: Everything okay?

I stare at the message, unsure how to respond. What am I supposed to say? Hey, just found out you’re married. Thanks for the heads up.

But I can’t say that. I need to figure out what I’m thinking.

Me: Just tired. Talk later.

It’s cowardly, but I need time to process.

How did Aggie not tell me? She’s been pushing us together and she had to know Jinnie was married. It makes me second-guess everything I thought I knew about Aggie, Jinnie, and this place. Just when I thought I was settling in, I discover it’s all bullshit.

I grab my guitar, thinking it’ll help, but my fingers fumble over the strings. Had she looked at someone else like that once? Had someone else known the feel of her skin, the sound of her breathless laughter?

And why the hell hadn’t she told me?

I set the guitar down with a frustrated sigh and run a hand through my damp hair. The walls of my room feel like they’re closing in, and I can’t sit still. I need to move, to do something—anything—to get my mind off this. I have to get out of here. I pull on my baseball cap and walk out of the house. Again, I ignore Aggie. I find myself walking back to my old campsite.

I kick a rock into the water, watching the ripples spread.

I can’t even be angry. Not really. Because what right do I have to her past? We’ve known each other barely a month.

But last night...last night felt like more. Felt like the start of something real.

And now?

Now I don’t know what to think.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jinnie

The bakery is quiet, the mid-afternoon lull stretching on with only the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional oven timer going off. I’m wiping down the counters for the third time, my mind miles away. Jack’s abrupt departure earlier keeps replaying in my head—the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, the stiffness in his voice when he said he had to go. Something was off, and I can’t figure out what it was.

Was it me? Did I say something wrong? Or maybe...did he regret last night? The thought makes my stomach twist. I’d been so sure, so caught up in the moment. But now, doubt creeps in.

I glance at my phone on the counter, willing it to buzz with a text from him. Nothing. It’s been hours since I sent that last message. I really thought he would pop in.

I go into the kitchen and pull out the last tray of muffins that will be in the case tomorrow morning. Then, I text Jack and let him now I’m ready for him to pick me up. I’m oddly worried he might actually leave me. With the way he left this morning, I’m not sure I can rely on it. He texts me back immediately and lets me know he’s on the way.

Last night was amazing. Being with Jack was...good. Different. New. And so good. There was a small part of me that couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. If we’re doing this, a relationship, he needs to know all the dirty details of my situation. I don’t want him to feel like I purposely kept something from him. I did, but not with ill intentions.

Fifteen minutes later, I see his truck pull up out front. He doesn’t get out. That seems odd, but whatever. I turn out the lights, lock up, and open my own door. That’s new. He always opens the door for me.

The truck door slams behind me, sealing me in with Jack and whatever storm is brewing behind his clenched jaw.

“Hi.” I smile. I lean over to plant a peck on his cheek.