Page 23 of California Wild

“Yeah.”

His throat went tight.

“It would be nice to count you as a friend,” he said, voice low.

Another long pause.

Then, soft—“Yeah. You too.”

Click.

Jesse stared at the screen, at the dark space where her name had just been.

Then, before he could stop himself, he flipped open Google.

Linkin Park tour dates.

His gaze scanned the results.

Australia. New Zealand. Soundwave Festival.

She was leaving in days.

Jesse let his phone drop onto his chest, staring at the ceiling.

One year sober.

Three years since he first touched her.

And now, she was about to disappear across the world.

And Jesse? Jesse had no idea what the hell he was doing.

Chapter 4

Hayley had barely slept. She blamed the excitement. The reality of landing the biggest opportunity of her career was finally sinking in.

She sucked in dusty air as she strode through the narrow hallway of The Fallout, the San Diego rehearsal space they’d been practically living in for the last year. The overhead fans spun lazily, rattling uselessly against the heat, doing nothing to push out the California sun bleeding through the high warehouse windows.

Inside, the space was pure chaos. Flight cases were half-packed, cables lay tangled in messy piles, and stacks of setlists and travel itineraries were crumpled on the table like discarded thoughts. Kilgor was in the corner, drumming on a practice pad, mindlessly beating out rhythms as if his hands didn’t know how to stay still. Billy sat nearby, tuning his bass with the same unbothered energy he always carried, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Their tour manager, Zoe, paced near the merch boxes,her phone pressed to her ear, talking too fast in a voice that carried over the noise.

Hayley wiped the sweat off her neck, feeling the dampness clinging to the back of her shirt, and grabbed the iced coffee she’d abandoned on an amp earlier. The plastic cup was slick with condensation, and when she took a sip, it was mostly melted ice—watery, lukewarm, barely even coffee anymore. She grimaced but drank it anyway.

Her mind was splitting in a hundred directions at once. Pack. Rehearse. Get the label’s press schedule locked in. Try not to have a meltdown. She should have been vibrating with excitement—Australia, New Zealand, opening for Linkin Park. It was the kind of opportunity that changed everything, the kind of break most musicians spent their whole lives chasing.

It didn’t seem to matter how much caffeine she had. She felt off. Maybe it was the hangover. The chaos. Or maybe—

She flipped her phone over, staring at the lock screen. Maybe it was the fact that she called her ex after the bar—when she was too drunk to make sense—and said god knows what.

Jesse’s text from this morning still sat there, unopened.

Jesse: Morning, Fox. Going into work, so I’ll be off the grid for a bit. If you want to chat later or whatever, I’ll be around. Hope you feel okay after last night haha. Have a great day.

Hayley exhaled, heart tightening. What the hell was she doing? He’d apologized. She’d ignored it. There seemed to be a tacit agreement to just move on. They were three years ago. Then, drunk at 2 AM, she’d called him like an idiot.

And instead of calling her out, instead of being his usual cocky, selfish, infuriating self—he was just… nice.

Friendly.

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