Page 72 of California Wild

Jesse kissed her one last time, deep and slow and memorizing, like he was leaving a piece of himself with her.

Then he pulled away.

And before he could make the mistake of looking back—

He was out the door.

Chapter 11

The week passed in a blur of movement, noise, and exhaustion.

Hayley barely slept after Jesse left. The sheets still smelled like him, warm and faintly salty, like sweat and soap and something deeper—something that reminded her of his skin, his hands, his breath against her neck. She had curled into the pillow, clutching it like an idiot, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

By the time she boarded the flight to New Zealand, she was running on fumes. The others were hyped—Caiden especially, bouncing in his seat, flashing grins at the cameras filming their departure. The label had arranged everything: first-class seats, in-flight interviews, carefully curated social media moments. Hayley answered questions, smiled when she was supposed to, let Caiden crack jokes and throw an arm around her shoulders.

But when she sat back, earphones in, watching the clouds roll beneath them, she let herself drift into the strange, suspended limbo of distance.

Jesse was gone.

Not just gone—completely unreachable.

It was a familiar ache, one she had felt before.

One she had promised herself she’d never feel again.

She pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the sky turn from dusk to black. Somewhere over the Pacific, she finally let sleep take her.

The moment they landed in Auckland, it was chaos.

A wall of cameras at the airport, fans waiting behind barriers, waving signs, screaming their names. Hayley adjusted her sunglasses, tucking her hair beneath the hood of her sweatshirt, but there was no hiding. Not when Caiden was basking in the attention, tugging her into the spotlight with him.

“Give ‘em something, Fox,” he said, voice low and teasing as he slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into the perfect shot.

The crowd exploded.

Flashes went off. Shouts rose.

She smiled for the cameras, gave them what they wanted, let Caiden’s hand linger at her hip longer than it should have. This was part of it. The tour. The image. The momentum.

But as they were whisked into waiting cars, as the city lights blurred past the windows, she felt something sharp and bitter coil beneath her ribs.

The last time she had been in a car like this, on the way to something massive, Jesse had been sitting beside her. His hand had been on her thigh, his thumb stroking lazily over her skin, his voice low and teasing in her ear.

Now, there was only Caiden.

And she was so fucking tired.

The rehearsals were brutal.

Twelve-hour days locked in a warehouse space, fine-tuning every sound, every transition. The crew adjusted stage layouts, light cues, backup tracks. Hayley’s voice was raw by the end of the second day, her fingers cramping from clutching the mic.

“Breathe, Fox,” Billy told her between takes, tossing her a bottle of water. “You sound tight.”

Hayley took a sip, rolled out her shoulders. He was right. She felt coiled, wound too tight, like she was fighting something she couldn’t shake.

Jesse had always known how to fix that.

How to unravel her. How to make her forget everything except the feel of his hands and the sound of his voice telling her exactly what to do.

---