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“What?”

Pushing off the car, I hit the key fob and start walking across the parking lot. “I said it’s not good for me, Jamie. I like this girl a lot.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means if you want the Mason album, you will fuck off about this until I show up in Nashville.”

There’s a stunned silence. In all our years of business together, we’ve never really fought. Disagreements, yes, but snapping and swearing? Absolutely not.

“Alright. Message received.”

Running my hand over my forehead, I close my eyes. Before I can speak to apologize, the phone goes dead. I don’t know why I did that. On the hot curb, I waver, staring down at my phone. Should I call him back? Deep down, I was dreading that phone call. I knew it was coming. Every time Bill called Sabrina, I knew I had my own version of that on the way.

Instead, I put the phone away and go into the gas station. It’s icy cold inside, and my shirt prickles, unsticking uncomfortably from my back. Hovering by the fridge, I glance at the map. It’s coming on about four in the afternoon. We won’t get anywhere like a city tonight, but if I can keep my eyes open long enough, I could drive us up to Memphis.

Something about my brief conversation with Jamie flipped a switch.

I don’t want this to end, but that doesn’t mean I have to drive all over the place and not get anywhere. It’s been a while since I’ve been to Memphis, and I might just be due for a visit.

I grab a basket and start stocking up. We can stop for some more fast food at dinnertime, but she’s going to wake up soon and want more snacks. When I leave the gas station, I have two full bags and a hot coffee balanced in each hand. She wakes up when I unlock the car, startling and sitting upright. There’s an upholstery print on her cheek, and her eyes are bleary.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You need to rest.”

She must be exhausted, because she curls back up, forearm beneath her head and coffee in hand. The caffeine loses instantly the second she sets the half empty cup aside. Her lashes flutter, head jerking. Then, she’s out, snoring softly.

I set the map, even though I know where I’m going.

All my roads have always led back to Tennessee, the backbone of my career. As I drive, the endless blacktop wavers with heatwaves. A wave of exhaustion crashes over me, but I don’t drown in it. This time, I wonder how many times I’ve stared out the windshield of a car on my way to Nashville. Hundreds, thousands. How many more times?

That’s up to me now.

I swallow hard at that thought.

Am I being taken by the heavy current of success, or am I in the driver’s seat? I’ve never thought about it that way. I just put my foot on the gas and chase the next high, or I avoid the next low like a pair of glowing eyes in my rearview mirror. Usually, it’s the latter, yap-yapping on my heels.

The turn for Memphis appears around dusk. I take it and keep on going.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SABRINA

I wake abruptly, confused. Bright lights flash, and it takes a moment to realize they’re passing streetlamps. Pushing myself up, I look around. He’s driving, the radio playing softly, tapping his fingers on the wheel. I clear my throat, and he turns the volume even lower.

“Hey, baby,” he says. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I feel like I slept on my neck.” I crack it, and it’s so loud, I gasp. “Where are we?”

“Memphis.” He comes to a halt at a stoplight. It flips green, and he goes right, heading down a side road and pulling back onto an off ramp. “I’ve been thinking about you while you were sleeping.”

“Uh, ok.”

“That sounded kinda fucked.”

“Not to me.” I stretch, cracking even more joints. “What were you thinking about?”

He thinks before speaking, the way he always does. He’s so careful with everything, with his words, his thoughts. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I thought he was guarded, but now I know better. He’s just slow to hurt others.