Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
How had I lost track of time? It seemed like years had passed since I’d first gone to Legacy and Majestic to arrange for the festival sponsorship and ended up kissing Trace in his cabin.
He laughed. “Some of us have been counting down, man. Zee Barlo’s playing, and he’s hot as fuck. Should be a huge crowd, I think.”
“Yeah, that’s—” I stopped dead as the wildest idea occurred to me. “Gabe. You’re a genius.”
“I am? I mean, pfft. Of course I am. Been telling people that for years. Maybe you could drop it in the group chat—”
“I’ll do you one better,” I promised. “I’ll buy you a drink this weekend at Timber and announce it to the bar.”
His grin came through the line in his familiar voice. “Yeah? Excellent. See you there. Love you, cousin.”
And then he was gone. I gathered myself together and shot him a final text.
Love you, too. Thank you always.
He sent back a heart, and I closed my eyes to have a little moment of genuine gratitude for the big, loving family I’d been born into. They were seriously better than anything.
And they would be even better when I was no longer keeping a giant secret from them.
When I was brave enough to claim the life I wanted and strong enough to hold it.
I shot off another few texts—Sunny was going to get whiplash from all my conflicting instructions, but I figured she’d be okay with it. Then I climbed back into the van, packed a bag as silently as I could, and wrote a note for Trace.
Before I left, I pressed a soft kiss to Trace’s forehead and murmured my love into his skin, feeling a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in… god, ever.
Then I snuck out of the van once again, and I made my way home.
To Legacy.
26
TRACE
I woke up with the sun piercing my eyes through the skylight. It took me a minute to realize that Wolfe wasn’t in bed next to me.
“Baby?” I called out, voice rough from sleep.
When there was no response, I squinted toward the little shower cubicle that also held the toilet.
Nothing. He wasn’t in here at all.
I briefly panicked that he’d already headed into Montrose without me, but then I quickly remembered I was sitting in his only vehicle.
Scanning the area around me, I realized his phone was missing, but I also saw his guitar was missing. I climbed off the bed and looked around, finally noticing a note folded into the van’s door handle.
Trace—
I don’t have time to wake you and explain, but there’s something important I need to do. Please trust me. When I’m done, I’ll meet you at home. Come find me.
In the meantime, know that every song I’ve ever written was for you. They’ve all been for you.
You’re the best muse I could have asked for.
With all of my love,
Your Wolfe
At first, I thought the “important thing” he needed to do was talk to Jake. It would make sense.
Then my phone pinged with a text from Clay Dennison in Montrose.
Clay
Jake Mason signed the NDA you sent.
That was a surprise. Clay had woken up a local attorney to prepare it, but I hadn’t expected Jake to sign it so quickly. I guessed he really cared about Shay after all.
Or maybe Wolfe had been there and somehow talked him into it?
Any chance you’ve seen Wolfe this morning? Did he come in to provide his statement?
Clay
No. His attorney said that they’d provide a video statement from the plane. Thought you knew.
The plane? What the fuck?
No, I didn’t fucking know. And suddenly, I was reading Wolfe’s note in a whole different way.
Why was he flying home? Had there been an emergency?
Surely I would’ve gotten a text if it were something Marian-related.
Which meant… something related to Fletcher? To Jake? I had no fucking clue.
Clay
FYI - blood test confirmed Lorazepam/Ativan. Nothing long-lasting. Easy for Mason to get his hands on. Officers searching his house now. Sister confused and upset but cooperative. I’ll keep you updated.
I felt bad for Shay, but I felt way worse for Wolfe.
Wolfe… who was on a damn plane.
I blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the mattress, wishing his sudden departure didn’t sting so badly.
Why not talk to me before running away? Was he having doubts about us? Did he not trust me?
I ran my finger over Wolfe’s note, reading it again with fresh eyes.
Every song I’ve ever written was for you. They’ve all been for you.
And then, All my love, Your Wolfe
Those weren’t the words of a man having doubts. Those were the words of a man who’d decided to take some kind of action, like me last night, even if it meant asking forgiveness rather than permission.
So I’d do what my Wolfe had asked: I’d trust him.
I’d trust that what we had was real and that he meant it when he’d said he loved me.