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Changed for You

Page 158

by Ken Blakely

“I’ll add some extra rehearsals. Mondays at this time good for you guys?”

We all nod, and the two of them are out of the door after a quick round of goodbyes. Walking side by side, Haven stops at her small white Mercedes sedan, parallel with my car.

“Seriously, Fia, I can’t thank you enough. That was everything I wanted and more. You were born to do this.”

I smile, though it feels forced this time.

“Thank you for the opportunity. Everyone’s going to love this song.”

The aftershock of my reality now presses at the back of my head.

If I quit, I’m letting Haven down. My friends, my family, and what kind of example would that be to my girls?

But what about me?

If I keep at this, will I ever have the courage to do what really makes me happy?

My head feels like mush as I walk in the direction of my car, and for a few minutes, I just sit here.

Maybe it’s the stress of having a time off and knowing that in a few days the tour picks back up, or maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in two years, sitting still doesn’t feel all that bad.

Tapping away at my phone, I shoot off a text to Sienna.

ME

Any chance you’re in the mood for a margarita?

SIENNA

You’ve known me for twenty-something years and you’re still asking? Of course I’m in the mood.

ME

I just got out of rehearsals; I’m going to stop at Jett’s to change. Meet you in an hour?

SIENNA

Already making room for chips and salsa!

Rolling my car into drive, the ride from the studio back to Greenway feels so much different from what I’m used to. Miles of beautiful land, with turning leaves preparing for the change in season. The farther you travel into town, the simpler it feels, especially in contrast to the opposite direction. Nashville is fast, vibrant, ready for the next best thing, but there’s a simplicity about the direction I’m going in, one that feels exactly like the silence I’ve been craving so hard to find.

When I got up this morning, Jett had already left the house for a run with his brothers. Waking up without him, alone in the bed of a man I once spent a reckless unforgettable night with, didn’t feel like a morning of shame. In fact, it felt nothing like I thought it would’ve. It felt like a touch of home as I stretched out against his sheets, a sense of belonging as I brushed my teeth and sat my toothbrush by the very one he uses every day.

It was domestic. Dreamy, even.

After running for so long, I’ve found a place I might really want to stay.

The code on the front door chimes and blinks green as I enter the house using the passcode Jett gave me.

A small waft of garlic still lingers in the air from the early morning meal he prepared, and my stomach gargles at the reminder.

Heading up the stairs, the house is quiet. I didn’t see Jett’s car in the driveway so he must still be out.

Like I live there, I trot to the bedroom that used to be Jett’s, but feels an awful lot like ours now. As I push open the door, the faint sound of water echoes just outside of the bathroom. Stepping inside, I stop, and my movements turn snail-like. Something childlike creeps beneath my skin, and my sudden plan to scare him makes me giddy.

Steam rises from underneath the cracked door, and I gently lower my bag from my shoulder so it doesn’t make a loud plop, while sliding my back against the wall closest to the bathroom door.

Right before I’m about to strike, the door moves open only an inch more, displaying the most beautiful sight.