Page 37 of Just Business

I’m closing in on myself. It’s coming in like the tide and no matter how hard I try I can’t stop it. The nightmare was the catalyst, but now everything is spinning inside my head. And I just want it to stop.

As soon as Penny headed down to her house this morning, I found myself pacing the length of the apartment. This is always how it starts. Something sets me off. My mind starts racing, and before I know it, I’m half a bottle deep. More than half, most of the time. It starts in my chest. A slow burn that spreads until all I can think about is how easy it would be to flip the switch. Turn it off.

Checking to make sure she’s not outside, I grab my hat and head to the van. For a fleeting moment I consider stopping in and having a drink or two at the bar to take the edge off. But I know that won’t do it. I bypass the bar and head to the liquor store at the end of the block.

With the brim of my hat as low as it’ll go, I slide on my aviators and head inside. Ty has always laughed that I’ve considered a hat and sunglasses a disguise. He’s probably right. It’s never stopped the photos. But in Singing River I figure it's good enough.

I grab a couple of bottles of Jack, then head back to the apartment. The weight of the bag in my hand is a two-ton brick. But the weight on my chest? Even heavier.

As soon as I enter, I pop the cork and put the bottle to my lips. I hesitate a beat. Two. Then I close my eyes as the whiskey hits my throat, traveling down until it settles low and warm in my belly.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Ty

Haven’t heard from you much. Just checking in.

Several minutes pass. Another buzz.

Ty

Have fun with your new landlord. Been missing your smart ass.

And there it is. Shame. That fickle friend I haven’t seen in a few days sits right beside me. Every bit of vitriol my father has ever hurled my way comes to the forefront of my mind.

“You’re looking more and more like your old man.”

“Just a drunk with a little bit of talent.”

I put the bottle to my mouth again and take a long pull.

I do it again.

And again.

Until finally—silence.

“Penn! I’m here,” Austin calls from my living room.

“I’m almost ready! I’ll be down in a sec,” I say around my toothbrush. Once I’ve finished in the bathroom, I hurry back to my room to finish getting dressed.

Today is the River Fest on Main Street, and I dressed up more than usual since there’s the street dance tonight with the local cover band, The Late Nighters, performing. I’m wearing my favorite sundress—it’s creamy white with a pattern of tiny blue and yellow flowers and spaghetti straps that tie at my shoulders.

When I step into the living room, Austin is perched on the edge of the couch absentmindedly scratching Honey’s head. He’s scribbling in his notebook unaware of my presence so I study him. Since the night of his nightmare he’s been a lot more subdued. Quieter. The day after he texted asking if I’d be upset if we didn’t have dinner together that night. I wasn’t surprised. I’m sure he needed time to process everything that had happened. Of course I told him I understood.

It’s clear a lot is weighing on his mind that he’s trying to sort through. I’ve even heard it in his songs as we’ve recorded this week. There’s a rawness, a vulnerability in his lyrics and I’ve come to realize these aren’t just song lyrics. They’re pieces of his story, snippets of him. His sessions this week have been a lot more intense with later nights while we all work to do every song justice. We’ve worked so late that most nights we order take-out or Lisa drops in with food.

There’s also been a shift between us since his nightmare. Neither of us has acknowledged it, but something is building, and all bets are off on who will cave first. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position broke my heart into a million pieces, and when I spent the next day putting those pieces back together, I realized that in a very short time, I’ve developed feelings for this man. The clock is ticking on Austin’s time in Singing River, but despite all the unknowns, not falling for him is becoming damn near impossible.

Josie was right when she predicted I’d throw my rule book out the window. In my head I’ve rewritten every single one of them. I’ve been debating for the last few days whether I should give him the green light once his studio time ends. At least then he won’t be my client. That was rule number one. Don’t date the clients. That’s an easy fix. I’m excited about this and absolutely terrified at the same time.

Austin’s phone buzzes, interrupting my musings, and I watch him glance down, his expression darkening, before turning it over with a measured exhale. Clearing my throat so I don’t startle him, I slowly enter the room. He holds up a finger in aone secondgesture and finishes what he’s writing, brows pinched in concentration. But when he looks up, his entire face shifts. His brows relax and his eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. Standing, he walks over to me, until we’re just a few inches apart.

“You look beautiful.” Austin lets out a quick breath. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you.” Unlike when we were fishing and he told me that, today I accept the compliment, beaming up at him. It takes everything I’ve got not to preen under his attention.

Since we’ve put in extra hours recording this week, we decide to take a half day off so everyone can attend the festival. I’m hoping today will be a good distraction for Austin and whatever emotions are roiling inside of him.

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