“Season-ending injury for Vogt and the Majestics”
“Pop sensation responsible for football star’s poor concentration resulting in injury”
My driver pulls up at the front stoop, and I angrily shove my phone into my pocket. Hopefully Jersey hasn’t seen these. It’s horseshit! Lying fuckers! “Thanks, man. See you soon,” I tell my driver as calmly as I can. He doesn’t deserve my wrath.
I take a deep breath and make my way inside the house. As I walk into the living room, I hear Jersey in an animated conversation.
“No, I’m telling you, I won’t be there... I don’t know, Cal, but figure it out.” She groans. “Hayes’s injury is severe. It’s not just a sprained ankle. I’m staying here with him, and that’s final.”
My heart thuds as I peek into the living room to see her with her headphones in, phone in hand, glowering down at her planner in front of her. And all my concerns with the media are forgotten. I can deal with that as it comes.
“I’ll be back in the New Year, and we can figure out rescheduling then, or you can email Bethany and she’ll take care of it for me. She has my tentative schedule, and she’s aware of the situation.” She sucks in a breath and turns around, sensing my presence. She holds up one finger, giving me a tight smile. “Cal, for once,pleasedon’t be such an ass. We’ll talk later.”
She hangs up and then pulls her earbuds out of her ears, standing up and coming over to see me. “Hey there!” Her voice is lighter than I was expecting, given the nature of her last conversation. “How’d it go with the doc?” she asks as soon as she’s in front of me. She runs her hand down the side of my face, her brown eyes searching every inch of me.
An unusual sense of panic runs through me and I’m quick to deflect. “Oh, it was fine.” For some reason, telling Jersey that I’m out for the season makes it more real, and I’m not ready to admit that out loud to her yet. “What have you been up to?”
Jersey tilts her head to the side, noting my quick change of subject but apparently choosing not to question me. She glances back toward her phone sitting on the table. “Callum’s been calling me relentlessly since he caught wind of your injury. He’s pissed that I left—he’s under some sort of delusion that since you’re injured, I should be high-tailing it back to LA” She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she lets out a heavy, frustrated breath. “Before he called this last time, I was listening to a few demos he sent over for the songs I’ll be working on next time I’m in the studio.”
I’m much more comfortable talking about Jersey and her career—now that mine is pretty much over for the season. It bothers me that her manager has been on her ass for taking some time off to be with me, but I know there’s not much she can do about the situation. I’m thankful that she wants to stick around while I’m recuperating.
“Will you sing them for me?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes and waves me off before walking back into the living room and settling on the couch. I follow after her on my crutches, trying to fight the smirk off my face, already anticipating her answer. “If I sing for you, it’s going to be somethingIwrote, not something these big wigs at the studio pieced together. Trust me, it’s not really worth hearing until it’s all finalized.”
I know by now that Jersey is not the biggest fan of what her label provides for her. At the very heart of it, I couldn’t care less about the lyrics or the words. I appreciate the sound of her voice.
Leaning my crutches against the arm of the sofa, I fall into the cushions next to her and elevate my busted knee on the table. Opening my arm for her, Jersey wastes no time settling into my side and resting her head on my shoulder. I trace light patterns over the smooth skin of her arm and lean my head back against the back of the couch, closing my eyes and breathing deeply.
I know I have to say it out loud. I have to admit it to Jersey and, more importantly, admit it to myself. “I’m done for the season.”
“Are you okay?” she asks softly a few moments later. Her voice is timid, like she’s afraid to question me. She hasn’t asked this question outright yet, but I’ve seen it in her eyes ever since we got home last night. She’s curious to know how I am, but not confident enough that I’ll let her in on the inner workings of my mind.
I will though. Of course, I will. I’d do anything for her.
“I don’t know,” I admit and a pain rises in my chest. With my free hand not wrapped around Jersey’s shoulders, I rub at my sternum, trying to ease the discomfort. “I will be... eventually.”
Her delicate hand falls on my chest, right over my heart, and I cover it with mine, loving the way her small fingers fit in mine.
“I wish there was something I could do,” she whispers.
“You’re doing it,” I reassure her, turning my head and pressing my lips to her forehead. I mean it. I can’t imagine what dark place I’d be in if she weren’t here with me. “I’ll bounce back. It’s just a tough pill to swallow at first. This is the first time I’ve had to take a step back in my professional career. I’m trying to make peace with that.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then she says, “Your mom told me about your ankle injury your freshman year of high school.”
I chuckle to myself, remembering those days and how important everything felt back then. I never thought I’d be where I am today—dreamed it, sure, but never actually imagined I’d be the lucky one.
“She said you’re always aglass-half-fullkind of guy.”
“I try to be,” I say.
“But you’re allowed to be sad too,” Jersey says, pulling back a bit so I can see her eyes. She has this way of staring directly into my soul that sends shivers down my spine. “You’re allowed to be sad for now, but then you have to get up and come back even stronger.”
I run my hand over her head, tucking a few stray strands behind her ear. “How’d I get so lucky to have you in my life?”
She fights off a smile. “You made the effort. And that means a lot in my book.”
Leaning forward, I claim her lips in a gentle kiss, savoring her and thanking every other fool she had in her life for letting her go so she could find her way to me.
