Page 21 of California Wild

Then, before he could think better of it—he answered.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, thick with sleep. “Hayley?”

A pause. Then—a breathy laugh.

“Jesse?”

She was slurring.

Jesse closed his eyes, rubbing his face.

Drunk. She was fucking drunk.

A wave of something he couldn’t name settled in his chest.

“Hayley,” he muttered, clearing his throat, sitting up. “What’s going on? It’s two in the morning.”

“I know.” Another laugh. “Shit. Is it? Oh my god. I didn’t—” She broke off, distracted, like she’d forgotten mid-sentence what she was saying.

In the background, Jesse could hear noise.

Laughter. Music. The distant echo of a bar, doors swinging open and closed.

Jesse dragged a hand through his hair. “Where are you?”

“Downtown,” she said, breezy and light. “We’ve been celebrating.”

Jesse frowned. “Celebrating what?”

A beat. Then—

“Jesse, you won’t believe this. The label took us out. Because—” She inhaled, sudden excitement flooding her voice. “We got it, Jesse. The gig. The one we wanted. Stone Sour just backed out of opening for Linkin Park for the last leg of their world tour… and for Soundwave in Australia. So—we booked it! Dead Run Riot is going to Australia!”

Something tightened in his chest.

She wasn’t talking about just any gig.

This was the one.

The break.

Jesse exhaled, leaning forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. “Shit, Fox.” A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “That’s huge.”

“I know, right?” She giggled. “I wanted to call you earlier, but, um—”

She trailed off.

Jesse knew why.

Because Monday morning had been the apology.

She had read it.

And she hadn’t answered.

Until now.

“Your message,” she said, softer now.

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