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“Well, you can tell him I’m not going to L.A.,” I snap. “Not for him. Not for this.”

“I know he’s being a pain right now,” Nova says, voice gentle, “but… he needs you. Even if he’d rather choke on his own ego than admit it.”

I sigh. “Nova?—”

“Hayley is exactly the kind of girl Jack likes,” she cuts in. “Classy, sweet, good press. You being there could make a real difference. Just a few days. Please.”

I hesitate.

“I’ll show you around the city,” Nova offers. “We’ll make it fun. Just help me get through this week.”

I glance at the road ahead, my resolve starting to flicker. I should say no.

But the truth is… I care more than I should. About the project. About him.

Even if I shouldn’t.

I blow out a breath. “Fine. I’ll come.”

Nova’s voice lights up. “Thank you, Mia. You’re the best thing that’s happened to Jack in weeks. Even if he doesn’t end up liking any of the girls, you’ve done your best. I mean that.”

I don’t know what to say. The words settle into my chest like warmth in a cold room.

We hang up. I keep driving.

Just as I’m pulling up to the shop, my phone pings again.

Credit alert. From Nova. She’s just made full payment for this business arrangement that seems to not be working.

Right under it, a text from Nova:

Thank you

I stare at it for a long beat.

Then I take a deep breath, put the car in park, and stumble out, dreading the next few days and how I’m expected to navigate it. Now I definitely have to go to L.A. with Jack, even though it’s the last thing I want. I’m doing it for Nova, nothing else.

As for Jack, I don’t care if he goes to L.A. and never returns to Bardstown. He’s better off in L.A. anyway. I’ll be so glad if he finally chooses a woman and gets out of my hair for good. My stomach dips at the thought, but I push my way into the shop and ignore it. Some decisions are better made with the head, and that’s a hill I’m dying on.

JACK

The jet touches down in L.A. just as the sky starts bleeding gold and violet across the horizon. The kind of sunset people write songs about—except all I feel is pressure pressing into my skull.

I grab my duffel and head for the exit. Behind me, I can hear Mia and Brody moving, talking quietly to each other. Mia hasn’t said a word to me since we left Bardstown. Not at the hangar. Not during the flight. Not even now. Her silence feels like a weight in my chest, but a part of me thinks it’s for the best. The farther I push myself away from her, the quicker I can move on.

The California heat hits the second I step outside—warm, dry, and familiar in a way I’m not sure I like anymore. It smells like concrete, smoke, and everything I thought I wanted when I first got famous. Bardstown smells better, maybe because of Mia’s flower shop.

A matte-black Escalade waits near the tarmac, the driver already holding the door open. No paps, no chaos—Nova made sure of that. After weeks off the radar, L.A.’s probably dying to catch meout again. But for once, I’d rather keep my peace than chase the camera.

There’s another car parked behind, tinted windows rolled halfway down, and I recognize the faces inside before I get close. Staff from my office. My team. The ones who are always there to pick up the pieces of my image when I blow it to pieces.

They step out when they see me, bright smiles, familiar warmth. One of them, Eliza, holds out a bouquet of white lilies and wildflowers.

“For you, ma’am,” she says, glancing at Mia.

Mia blinks, caught off guard.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, reaching out and taking the flowers gently. She brings them close and inhales, just slightly. Then she smiles. Soft. Surprised. Real.