Page 77 of Enticing the Enforcer

We danced like fire, but I don’t burn for this

Keep the spark, not the wish

You had your shot, now it’s missed

You got a kiss, but babe–

That’s all this is

Just a kiss in the dark…

That’s all this is.”

The final notehangs in the arena like a secret shared with a thousand strangers, who give me, give the lyrics a chance to breathe before the applause takes over.

“Thank you for everything!” I shout, handing over the guitar and striding to the back of the stage with the band lifting me up with their music. There’s so much adrenaline thrummingthrough my veins. For a moment, I let myself feel untouchable, unstoppable, the spotlight mine and mine alone.

“That song.”

That’s all I hear for the rest of the night. From my mother who is waiting just outside the curtain backstage. From the dancers and members of my team. It’s all the buzz at the after-party, the question that follows me–was that about Jefferson? Did he break your heart? Where is he?

I did it to myself, but that’s how I operate. I put my feelings into the world, one lyric at a time, and hope that it hits home, hope that it allows me to heal.

This song? Apparently, it hit people right in the feels.

The party is a mix of celebrities, industry pros, my team, and everyone who made this tour legendary. I’m still riding high, half-delirious that it’s over. That there are no more dates on the calendar. No more shows to prepare for. With champagne in hand, I am moving through the crowd, pushing aside any thought of what comes next.

And then I see him.

“Shit,” I say aloud. Too loud. Madison glances over.

“Oh crap. Babe, I’ll handle this.”

“No. I’ve got it.”

Jake.

He’s leaning against the bar, the same thin frame I remember lying next to in the dark while we wrote music and pretended to be in love. His brown eyes scan the room nervously, well aware that he’s crashing my party. Also aware that I’m not going to make a scene and kick him out.

And the cycle continues.

The last time I saw him, Jefferson had been there, shutting him down with ease. Jefferson isn’t here tonight, something he also probably knew before coming in here. Now, he’s here, and the air between us tightens.

Our eyes meet and he starts my way. I guess we’re doing this.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, threading through the music and chatter. “Big night.” I nod, playing along. This isn’t about a night. It’s about the cumulation ofyears.“That song was something else.”

“Thank you.”

“Since we didn’t get to talk last time, I thought maybe we could now.”

“Sure, Jake, let’s talk,” I say, tired of the games. “What first? About the times you treated me like I was too much or not enough? Or maybe the way you used me to make yourself feel important. Or how you took my lyrics, switched them up, and pretended like they were your own?”

“Ing,” he starts.

“What doyouwant to talk about? That’s what’s important.”

“Look, I know I didn’t handle things right.” He runs a hand through his messy hair, the gesture once charming, now almost pleading. “I was jealous and insecure. I was a jerk, okay? I shouldn’t have let you go like that. I… I was wrong.”