Page 34 of August Lane

August snatched it from her and shouldered past security. Luke had started the first verse, playing that God-awful arrangement that made him sound like the cheesy ghost of country past. She stopped a few feet away, put her fingers in her mouth, and blew a piercing whistle.

“What the fuck?” One of the sound guys glared at her. “We’re trying to work here.”

Luke ripped the guitar off his chest and marched over with the same ferocious warning in his eyes that made her drop her dinner plate the other night.

Something inside her, one of those weak parts that was still a work in progress, whispered, Stop pretending you don’t like it. He tastes better this way.

“It’s just a sound check.” Luke gestured behind them at the stage. “David called and—”

“Sign this.” August handed him the contract.

Luke glanced at it. “Not until we talk.”

“Okay, fine. Deal’s off.” She went to the microphone. A crowd of festival volunteers and journalists had gathered with their phones and cameras pointed at the stage. She grabbed the mic and heard a burst of laughter from the crowd. “Hell yeah!” someone shouted. “Give us a show, August!”

People she knew, people she’d spent the last decade trying to convince that she was past her reckless, messy stage, stared up at her with knowing smiles. They’d been right all along. This angry disaster was all she’d ever be.

She couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Luke’s arm slid around her waist and she leaned into his warmth. His lips were at her ear, telling her she was fine. She’d be okay. August closed her eyes and let his words wash over her. She wanted to believe him.

Luke led her to the large trailer the performers used as a greenroom. He tried to make her sit, but August refused, still clutching the contract like a lifeline.

“What was that out there?” he finally asked.

“I was angry.”

“No, I mean—” He stared at her. “Do you have stage fright?”

Her chest tightened again, air scraping through her lungs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that why you stopped singing?” He moved closer, searching for something in her expression. “Because you haven’t mentioned it since I came back.”

“Why do you care if I sing or not?”

“Because I care about you. I don’t need some contract to want what’s best for you. And I’m starting to think that’s not me singing another song you wrote.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier, but I had to—”

“There’s your favorite Band-Aid.” Her voice was hard but fraying, the threads holding her together snapping one by one.

He was quitting. Trying to call her bluff.

And she’d just let him win, hadn’t she? Where was her courage when it counted?

“ Sorry. Do you even know what you should be sorry for? Maybe you should ask me instead of tossing out clichés and platitudes. Write a better song, Luke.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he grabbed a folding chair and sat in front of her. “Tell me. What should I be sorry for? Don’t hold back.”

Those three words unlatched a door she’d vowed never to open for anyone again. It was too painful. But Luke still had a key she’d given him years ago, which meant he’d find a way in, eventually.

“You should apologize for lying,” she said.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Don’t interrupt. I won’t be able to do this if you keep interrupting.”

Luke pressed back into the small chair and folded his arms.

“You said you believed in me. But you didn’t. If you did, you would have come back.” She could tell he still wanted to argue. His body was rigid and his eyes were shouting she was wrong. “You should apologize for being my only friend. For making me need you.”

“I needed you t—” He grunted and rubbed his face. “Go on.”

“Apologize for making me think I could keep you.” Her volume rose with each demand. They were flowing out of her now, faster than she could think, a jumble of words in free fall. “You let me take us for granted. I loved you like breathing. But then you left and stole my air.”

Luke lurched forward, reaching for her. But she backed away. “Apologize for making me invisible. For erasing me from your life.”

“I didn’t—”

“Apologize for offering me money.”

He stood. “August—”

“Say you’re sorry for making me hate you. For making me hate our song.”

“I love you.”

“ Don’t. ” That was how she’d always been loved.

In absentia. As a dwindling shape in someone’s rearview.

“You destroyed me. No note. No phone call. I thought you were dead, Luke. And when I saw you lying about us on national TV, I wished you were. Because then all of it would have meant something. I would have meant something. Do you know what that feels like? Carving yourself open for someone who flinches and runs away?” She clenched her teeth, ground them until her jaw ached.

These weren’t memories gripping her. It was fear with its strong monstrous hands, yanking her back to a time when all she did was fall. When there was nothing to hold on to.

“I know I’m not perfect,” she said. “I know I can be a lot. And I tried to do better. For Jojo. For you.” She held her breath, despising the question, but unable to stop it from spilling out. “Could you tell me why? Why am I so easy to walk away from?”

Luke grabbed both of her arms. She tried to pull away, but he held on tight. “Do you know why I keep singing that song? The real reason?”

“Because it’s all you have.”

“Right,” Luke said, nodding slowly. “All anyone wants from me. That’s what I say, but it’s not true. That’s the biggest lie I ever told.”

He took a breath, eyes red and glittering.

“I don’t have to sing it,” he said. “I could have stopped a long time ago. But I didn’t.

Deep down, I knew that if I wrote something people liked, they wouldn’t want to hear ‘Another Love Song’ anymore.

And I need it. Because you’re right, that song is all I have left. It’s the only way to keep you with me.”

She felt dizzy. Her heart slammed against her rib cage like it was desperate to escape. He cupped her cheek and she could feel his pulse racing.

“I use it to go back to you,” he said. “To us. Each time I sing it, I get to fall in love with you again.” His lips twitched into a brief smile. “Hurts like hell when it’s over, but it’s worth it. I want to hurt that way for the rest of my life.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Luke kissed one, then the other, and touched his forehead to hers. “I didn’t walk away from you, August. I never even tried.”

She closed her eyes. Luke wrapped his arms around her, and they stayed that way, wrecked and raw, vibrating from too much truth spilled all at once.

“Is this the part where I forgive you?” August whispered. “You’ve always loved me, so we kiss and forget?”

He stroked her face again. “I don’t think forgiveness works that way.”

The flash of a photo being taken startled them both into jerking apart.

David Henry stood at the door, staring at his phone.

“This is definitely going on Insta.” He strolled into the room and showed them the photo, which made it look like they were seconds from kissing.

“After that little stunt you both pulled out there, it’ll probably go viral.

” He started typing. “Hashtag, Luke should have told David that Jojo’s daughter is his fucking mistress. ”