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“Of course,” he says loudly, causing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “You were just gonna do paperwork since I had to leave the office today. Wednesday is great, but you better come with a song we can work on together.”
I smile even though he can’t see me. “Absolutely.”
“Then we’re good. Have a nice trip,” he says as I push the door open to the music building, going out into the brisk fall air.
I know he wants to end the call, but I continue, “Also, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“Yeah? Which part?”
“My voice. That you think it isn’t sellable.”
“Oh? And?”
“I know I said that I think I am sellable, but I’m second-guessing that.”
“Okay. So what are you saying?”
Gah, what am I saying? Is that what I want? A part of me knows it is. But then I’m not sure if it’s because of the anxiety the stage causes or if it’s because I know I’ll never see Jace. We don’t see each other enough as it is, and the thought of going months without him is painful. But lately, the anxiety has been insane. It could change when I go on my new meds, but it might not. I don’t want to work for something that is unattainable. Something that can compromise my health. I have to think about me here. And in the long run, songwriting is my passion. It’s what makes me the happiest. Yes, I love performing my songs, building my songs, but what if my anxiety gets worse? But is this living my dreams? I’m so torn.
“I think I want to be a songwriter.”
“Cool, I think you’re brilliant, and I support that. I feel you’ll go further than you would as a performer, honestly.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod. “I could change my mind, though,” I add with a laugh, and he laughs along with me.
“Avery, the showcase isn’t until March. We have time to figure it out. But, in the meantime, I want you to write. I want you to write till your fingers bleed.”
Grinning, I look up and my head falls to the side when I see Jace leaning against my car. What the hell? Remembering that I’m on the phone, I say, “Yeah, no problem. I have notebooks upon notebooks of songs.”
“Then do me a favor and drop them off to me today. Is that possible?”
I stop in front of Jace and his eyes are on me as I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go get them and run them up to your office.”
“Awesome, I’ll go through them this weekend, and we’ll discuss Wednesday. Have a nice trip.”
“Thanks, Stu.” I hang up, nodding to Jace’s leg. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Not walking?”
“I drove,” he says, hooking his thumb to where his car is. His body is tense, his eyes dark, and I think he’s mad.
What in the world?
“Are you okay? Are you in pain? You look pissed.”
“I am,” he answers, coming off the car and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
I nod. “I do, but it can wait. What’s wrong?” I take a step toward him, and when I reach out to touch him, he moves out of my range. My brows come crashing together as I eye him. “Jace?”
“So I talked to Jude today,” he says, his eyes burning into mine. “And he told me that he and Seth talked.”
Oh, fuck.
Just like that, my heart speeds up in my chest and everything goes silent except for the loud crashing of my heart in my ears as I watch him, my eyes wide. Blinking, I clear my throat.
“Okay?” I say, trying to act as if that doesn’t matter, but I know it does. I can see it in his eyes. Seth told Jude, who in return told Jace, which means he knows. Dread is seeping out of my pores, my heart is in my throat, and true fear is in my chest. If I thought my anxiety was bad before, nothing compares to the drowning feeling I have right now. He isn’t happy, I can tell that, but surely he’ll understand.
Won’t he?
“His story was a bit different than the one you told me. And the thing is, you’ve lied to me, Avery. About a lot of stuff.”
