Page 48 of Everything In Between

FORTY-ONE

hayes

Jersey paces back and forth across the living room floor. I’m slightly concerned she’ll wear a hole in the hardwood with how hard she’s stomping around, but I’m not about to tell her to stop. I’m not sure she’d listen if I tried.

She’s in full crisis mode right now and all I can do is sit by and offer support where I can.

Her phone has been glued to her ear for the better part of the last hour. She’s been on and off phone calls with Bethany, her manager and PR team, her mom, Roman, and her lawyer—not necessarily in that order.

Her dark chocolate hair is strewn atop her head, messy from her relentlessly running her fingers through the strands. Though her voice is level, I can pick up on her panic, which rises with every passing minute.

I wish there was something I could do, but I’m completely lost. This all goes way over my head. All I can do is sit here, giving her moral support.

When Jersey hangs up the latest phone call with her lawyer, she runs her hands over her face and groans.

Shuffling over to where I’m seated on the couch, she falls down next to me and buries her face in my chest. I wrap my arms around her, my heart hurting for her and frustrated that I can’t help her any more than I am already.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers. Her shoulders tremble as she drags in a shaky breath. My thoughts flash to the sight of her hunched over on the side of the road, crumbling under the weight of her new reality, and my heart breaks a little more.

My beautiful, strong Jersey. I’d do anything to keep her from feeling this pain ever again.

I smooth my hand over her hair and cup the back of her neck, holding her tightly to me. “What did your lawyer say?”

“She’s reviewing the contract to determine whether taking my original song is a violation of my intellectual property rights, or if it would fall under the category of intellectual property they own. It gets a little gray since there has never been any interest in any of my original songs so far.”

I admit, I like that her lawyer is searching for loopholes and ways out. No matter what, someone’s getting sued over this. It would be an added bonus if Jersey can also escape from the chokehold this contract has her under.

“What do you think happened?”

She shakes her head. “I have no idea. The only way for them to have gotten those words would have been to hear me sing them”—her eyes cut to mine and my blood turns to ice—“or they somehow got a hold of my notebook where they were written.” I know she believes me, but it still hurts that I’m a plausible option for her words getting leaked.

That must be how they did it, but it’s going to be a matter of finding out the finer details, and then proving that Jersey had written those words first.

I have no doubt her lawyer will be able to handle the infringement situation. She’ll get a large payday—even though it may take time—but I have no idea what will happen next.

“What do we do now?”

“Best-case scenario: I get writing credits on the song and a share of revenue. Meghan’s already recorded it,” she says ruefully, her shoulders sinking.

“And it’s already been streamed and downloaded thousands of times by her fans.

There’s no going back in that aspect. It’s her song now.

Even if we move forward with legal action, the song is out there.

Sure, I may be able to get licenses and credits and compensation, but no one will ever recognize it as mine as much as they do hers. ”

I remember back to when Jersey sang it for me on Christmas.

This song is such an intimate part of her, a clue in to some of her most inner thoughts and feelings.

I can’t imagine how devastated she must be feeling to have had that part of her displayed for the world to see, without anyone knowing they’re her words.

“I wish there was some way I could help,” I admit, running my hand up and down her back.

“You are,” she says, pressing against me in a hug. “You’re helping just by being here. I can’t imagine if I had to go through this all alone.”

“You’re never going to be alone again,” I assure her. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“I love the sound of that,” she whispers, tucking herself against me tighter.

We sit together for a while, weathering the storm. Jersey stays glued to my side while she answers text messages and phone calls, constantly seeking that comfort of the connection between us.

The afternoon quickly disappears, the sun lowering beneath the horizon. We’ve been stuck on this couch all day, only getting up to use the bathroom or to grab a snack before returning.

To be honest, I like this fortress we’ve built together over the last few hours.

I can tell Jersey’s feeling a little better, reassured by the endless stream of messages and promises from her team and her lawyers.

The color has slowly returned to her cheeks, and she seems more alert and chipper than she was when this news first broke.

That’s not to say that she’s not still devastated, because she definitely is. But she’s being strong, powering through the pain.

Outside, I catch sight of a few snowflakes swirling around the windows.

As I run my hands through Jersey’s hair, I can’t help but feel like the snow is hinting that this might be a new beginning for us.

A new, exciting chapter. As much as it sucks right now, at some point the bad will have to end, leading into something that can only be good.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rings and I groan, burying my face in Jersey’s neck. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

She laughs and taps my shoulder. Putting on emphasis, the doorbell rings again, and again. Swearing under my breath, I push off my girl and storm toward the front door, grumbling the whole way.

“Okay, okay,” I say right before swinging the door open.

It rings again, right when I open it to reveal a young woman standing on my porch.

Her eyes are wide and scared, her shoulders trembling from the chill of the early March air.

I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place her face. “Can I help you?”

She stands up on her tiptoes, looking around me. I don’t like that one bit, so I step closer, letting my broad frame block her view. She appears intimidated and takes a step back.

“I’m here to see Jersey. Can I talk to her?”

I cross my arms over my chest and glower at her. Is she a fan? How’d she find out Jersey was here with me? “Who are you?”

Jersey answers the question for me, peeking around my shoulder to see the visitor. I step aside, letting her past when I realize she recognizes the girl.

“Kelsey?” she asks, stepping forward. “What are you doing here? How’d you know where to find me?”

The girl’s eyes fall, and I catch a glisten of what I can only assume are tears. “I’m so sorry. I have your location on my phone. I’ve just been—I’m so sorry, Jersey.”

“Sorry for what?” Jersey takes another step toward her and places her hand on her shoulder.

“Your song,” Kelsey says, looking up at my girl now. Her eyes are rimmed red, and a tear streaks down her cheek. “I’m the reason your song got leaked.”

Jersey’s hand falls from the girl’s shoulder and she sucks in a breath. The world around us grows so silent we can hear the snow falling outside.

Oh shit.

I watch Jersey closely, to see what she’ll do. She rolls her lips together, studying Kelsey for a moment before she nods her head. What she says surprises me, yet it doesn’t. Jersey Matthews is one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met, even when faced with someone who has wronged her.

“I think you better come inside.”