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That was the worst part. I didn’t stop having ideas for songs, but somewhere in the process of making them, I lost confidence in myself. In what the song wanted to be.

Ember’s big blue eyes were serious. “Why did you stop making albums? It bothers you. I can tell. I figured you just stopped wanting to, but if songs are stuck in your head, that means the music is still there?”

Another urge to downplay things, but I ignored it. Ember had done more than bare her soul to me. All I saw on her face was curiosity and concern, and I had the urge to reach out through Ben to see what she was feeling.

But, of course, she wasn’t bonded yet. Something that was starting to feel like a missing piece inside my bond with Ben.

I rubbed the back of my neck, my hair falling around my hand. It was long enough to completely touch my shoulders now, and I needed a trim. “It’s complicated.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

“It’s okay.” I wrapped my arm around her waist. It was such a comfort, having her close to me. I never imagined feeling so much for someone other than Ben. It was almost a relief, knowing I could open myself up like that again. I put my chin on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to go so long between albums. AfterFrom Ashescame out, it hit a bunch of charts, and I felt like I was in a dream.”

She frowned. “Or a nightmare?”

I didn’t hear any judgment, only concern. It gave me the courage to talk about it, all of it.

“Sort of. It was everything I ever dreamed of, making songs that touched people. But I didn’t expectFrom Ashesto do so well. I thought five people would listen to it, and that would be that. I was ready for obscurity. So when it took off, it was terrifying.”

She ran her hand through my hair. “That’s every artist’s dream, right?”

“I’d told myself when I was writing those songs that no one else had to hear them but me. Composing music is like baring my soul to the entire world. I still remember sitting on my bed as a teenager, writing ‘Breathe Beneath the Earth,’ feeling the start of my heat burning through me, feeling hopeless, like I’d never find a bondmate who felt what I felt.” I chuckled. “It feels so juvenile now, embarrassingly so.”

“No.” Ember looked shocked. “Rian. When you sang ‘Even the wind still calls your name, like the world won’t let me forget you stayed,’ like, it lives inside me.”

She touched her chest, blinking tears out of her eyes.

It was so humbling, seeing the direct impact I’d had on another human being. I loved her, with everything I had, but seeing how I’d helped her so many years ago made some of my own grief feel worth it.

Ember was like me. Music filled her up until it threatened to swallow her whole if it didn’t get out.

“It’s not juvenile; it’s raw and honest. When my designation triggered, I was mad.” She picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “I wassomad. Here I was, laid up in the hospital, my parents dead, and now my body is like, ‘As an extra layer of hey, screw you, we’re going to flip into omega now.’”

I frowned. “That sounds like hell.”

“It was.” She shook her head. “But listening to ‘Roses and Ruins’ over and over helped. It felt like you wrote that for me, like you knew exactly the feelings of conflict and bitterness I’d felt.”

I squeezed her, hating that she had to go through that. I led her over to the couch, and she carried our sandwiches. “I’m glad it helped.”

“But now when you write, you worry it won’t be as well liked asFrom Ashes?”

“Or it won’t sound right. I start writing songs and then doubting myself. Should I make it more bluesy? Should it sound more upbeat?” I sighed. “Ben helped me a lot with which songs made the album. I was a basket case and overthought everything. I either wanted thirty songs on it or two. He helped me find my way through what felt right, what told the story.”

I pulled the blanket up over us, knowing my scent was souring. I couldn’t help it, all of the grief washing over me. “But as time went on, it was harder to know how I should finish a song. If I wanted to make it more pop, or more rock, or something in between. I kept comparing it toFrom Ashesand thinking my fans would hate this, or love that, and instead of me, my guitar, and my feelings, I also had my fans. And I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

I raked my hands through my hair. “My parents told me what a prodigy I was and asked why I wasn’t using my talent. The entire time, I was telling myself, ‘Write the songs already. Why do I have to overthink everything?’

“So now, whenever I have a song idea, it’s hard to separate it from what I want, what I think other people want, and everything in between.”

Ember wrinkled her nose. “That sucks.”

I laughed at her understatement. “It does. I know Ben loves me, and he wouldn’t care if I never wrote another song again…”

“But you’re not happy with that,” Ember finished. “We want you to be happy, and this is obviously eating you alive.”

I nodded, tears suddenly welling up in my eyes. It was so stupid, to be this twisted up about making music, but I was trapped in a hell of my own making. I cleared my throat. “I still get to make music.”

Ember frowned, pushing some hair out of my face. “Is it just when you’re trying to write your own songs? Or do you feel that twisted up when you’re playing guitar?”