Page 35 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

“Thank you, Jinnie,” Stephanie calls out.

I practically run out the door. I go by the grocery store and manage to go through the motions. After feeding Max, it’s time for my weekly dinner with my parents. When I walk into the house, it’s like getting a big hug. Mom stirs a pot of soup at the stove while Dad chops vegetables, their movements synchronized after being married since they were teenagers younger than me.

“Uh-oh,” Dad says. “I take it you haven’t heard from him.”

They know all about my woes. At dinner last week, I told them about Jack essentially ghosting me.

“He said he’d call,” I murmur.

Mom’s spoon stills. “Oh, honey.”

Dad sets down his knife. “You know how those music people are. Probably working him to death.”

“That’s not—” My voice cracks. “It’s not the not-calling. It’s that when he does, he’s different. Like he’s so used to putting on a performance, he’s performing for me.”

The soup bubbles loudly. Mom turns down the heat. “People change, Jinnie. Especially when they’re chasing big dreams.”

“I know. I just thought...”

I thought I’d be part of that dream.

“You can’t put your life on hold waiting, sweetheart,” Dad says gently. “I think you need to consider dating. See how it feels. If you aren’t ready, that’s okay, too.”

The words settle like stones in my chest.

I make it through dinner, and instead of hanging around to play cards, I go home early. I don’t feel like being around anyone.

My house is too quiet. Too empty.

My phone lights up with a notification—some music blog posting about Jack’s “meteoric rise.” I swipe it away, but not before catching a glimpse of the photo: Jack on some red carpet, Liz on his arm, both of them smiling for cameras.

The tears come hot and fast. I miss his laugh. The sound of him plucking at his guitar. The weight of his arm around me as we fell asleep.

Most of all, I miss the guy who wanted me. The one who might not exist anymore.

Somewhere out there, Jack is living his dream.

And here I am—

Just learning how to breathe without him.