Page 110 of California Wild

Jesse huffed a small laugh. “Isaac’s an idiot.”

“No, no, no—don’t try to skate past this, Navarro.” She poked him in the side, making him twitch. “You play guitar. In a band.”

“It’s not a band.”

“What do you call a group of people who play instruments together?”

Jesse sighed. “A coping mechanism.”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

They turned onto a quieter street, one of those peaceful little lanes lined with palm trees and old Spanish-style houses with bougainvillea spilling over the walls. It was the kind of neighborhood where time slowed down. A little pocket of paradise.

Hayley nudged him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Jesse shrugged, shifting the bags in his grip. “Didn’t seem important.”

“Not important?” She shot him an incredulous look. “Jesse, I’m a musician. This is literally my entire life. And you—you never even mentioned it.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Because it’s not like that. It’s just fucking around. We jam sometimes, blow off steam… in Dom’s basement. It’s not like we’re out there headlining shows.”

“That’s not the point,” she pressed. “The point is—I don’t even know this about you.” She stopped walking for a second, making him pause too. “How do I not know you play guitar?”

Jesse stared at her, a mixture of amusement and something heavier curling in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Because the truth was—she knew the old him. The wild Jesse. The reckless one. The one who played hard, partied harder, and burned out faster than he could repair.

She didn’t know the man he’d spent the last three years trying to become.

“Babe,” he started, adjusting the grocery bags in his arms, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Hayley folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “It matters.”

He sighed, smirking slightly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal to me,” she said, softer this time. “Because I thought I knew everything about you.”

Jesse let out a slow breath, running his tongue over his teeth. “You knew a version of me.”

Her expression faltered for half a second, just long enough for him to catch it. Then she squared her shoulders, stepping closer, reaching out to hook a finger in the hem of his shirt.

“I want to know all of you,” she said. “The now you. The one I missed.”

Jesse swallowed, heat creeping up his spine. Because fuck. The way she looked at him—like she wasn’t going anywhere, like she was still holding on—made something dangerous swell in his chest.

Without thinking, he dropped one of the bags into his other arm and reached for her, his fingers slipping through hers, linking them together.

Hayley’s lips curved slightly, like she was surprised but pleased.

Jesse squeezed her hand, then smirked. “You just want me to play for you.”

She grinned. “Well, duh.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Jesus.”

They started walking again, her hand still in his, swinging between them.

“Okay, okay,” she continued. “Follow-up question—what kind of music do you guys play?”

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