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Not that it matters. Whether I do what he insists or not, all Grandfather cares about are the results. People liked me in that video—only rich people got annoyed. And they’re mostly annoyed at themselves for being soulless, not at me for pointing it out. Which means it’s good for his image to be connected to me. It could have just as easily gone the other way.

That’s what makes me a wild card.

Nothing I do is premeditated, and I certainly never know how people will take it. My safest play is the sameas it’s always been. Stay home, keep my mouth shut, and stay away from any kind of attention. Emerson—the Richmond heir—and Jake donotmake it easier. The last thing I need to do is start dating the latest fashion wonderboy, but he’s justsocute.

Waking up to a dozen messages from friends and coworkers about my internet fame wasn’t wonderful. But Easton rushing over here to make sure I’m okay? Reassuring me that he’s still interested, even though I was a complete mess? Telling me that he doesn’t care what his board thinks?

It’s pretty cute.

Even so, it’searly, and it has not been a great day.

Thankfully, Jake’s not actually home. That means I can go for a run alone, which I do. I feel a lot better once I’ve worked up a sweat, and while I’m in the shower, I have an idea for a song. When Jake finally does walk through the front door, looking like maybe he had an early morning shoot, I’ve got almost the entire chorus worked out.

“Hey, listen to this.”

I start banging away without thinking or even really more than glancing his way. “And then I was thinking I’d transition like this.” I play my coda, and then the first two lines of the verse. “It’s blocky, but maybe if I. . .” I trail off, erasing a line and cleaning it up.

“You are?—”

I snap my head back, surprised Jake’s standing just behind me. He crossed the room without me even noticing.

“What?”

His hand brushes the hair hanging down my back. “Your hair’s sopping wet. The entire back of your shirt is soaked.”

I shrug. “I had this idea while I was in the shower, and I just wanted to get it down.”

“It’s even better than the one you wrote the other day,” he says softly. “I’m impressed.”

“Do you really think so?” Then it hits me, how to finish out the opening lines. “Oh! What about this.” I play them all together, and then I plunge into the chorus. “I even had an idea for words. What do you think about these?” I clear my throat. “Don’t judge my voice, because I just had a yogurt.”

“Bea, stop with the self-deprecating crap about your voice. You sound amazing. Just sing.”

That surprises me, but I shake it off. “Okay. Here goes.” I swallow, and then I launch into it. “Walking that fine line, but it’s never enough; When the one who makes you small is so rough; Nothing you do will ever earn a smile; You should really quit caring, at least for a while.”

I hunch my shoulders then, hearing just how corny it sounds.

“You know what? Never mind. The lyrics need work.”

Jake drops a hand on my shoulder. “That was—it wasreallygood, Hornet. I mean it.”

I turn around slowly. “Are you just being nice?”

He shakes his head. “Not even a little. I know your grandfather came today. Is that what inspired this?”

“How do you know—” It doesn’t matter. “It was and it wasn’t, actually. I am talking about him, kind of, but I think the song’s because of Easton. You know, that video’s a mess, but he wasn’t even mad. I embarrassed him, and I criticized his company, mocking everyone who buys his brand, really, and instead of getting upset with me, he came over to make sure I’m alright.”

Jake frowns.

“I guess it made me realize what peopleshoulddo. It’s what I’ve never had.”

“I don’t criticize you,” Jake says.

I sigh. “True, but you don’t push me, either. I’m writing songs, plural. Not a song. I’m halfway through my second in a week. Maybe I’ll enter that contest after all.”

“You were mad about it,” he says. “You said that woman was a jerk.”

I shrug. “Maybe I needed someone to believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”

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