Page 30 of August Lane

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“I would have told you before if you had listened to me.”

“Why would I do that?” She shoved the flyer at his chest. “Why would I listen to anything you had to say? You had my number for thirteen years and never bothered to use it.”

Luke worked his jaw in a way she’d seen countless times before. He was searching for words that might calm her, rejecting anything that might create more conflict. “You wouldn’t have wanted to hear from me,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for this. For you.”

August wasn’t ready for him, either. She’d realized it the minute Bill said Luke was coming back. She was right where he left her all those years ago—hurt, angry, and humiliated by what he’d done. It was easier to think of him as a list of offenses instead of a man. Luke lied. Luke left. Luke was selfish. It was a simple and uncluttered hate that only worked in the absence of contradictions. But that’s what he was, a bundle of things at war with each other. Luke lied but also looked lost. Luke left but had returned to the sight of his worst nightmares. Luke was selfish but wore regret like a penitent King Midas desperate to touch something real.

Birdie used to say that love wasn’t feeling. It was doing. Despite how August felt, she couldn’t act on it, no matter how much she wanted to.She couldn’t love him anymore. Shecouldn’t. The shame would eat her alive.

“Congratulations on your growth,” August said. “But I won’t forgive you, so don’t bother asking.”

Luke’s expression sharpened, like she’d cut somewhere deep. “I don’t want your forgiveness, August.”

It shouldn’t have hurt after what she’d just said. She had no right to care. But that was her way, wasn’t it? How did Birdie put it? Contrary, just to be contrary? That was her curse. “Then what do you want?”

Luke balled his hands into fists. The wordpeacewas drawn across his knuckles in black ink. “I owe you. Everything I have, which hasn’t been much lately, but that’s about to change because of your mother.”

Her face warmed. “Are you offering me money?”

“Only if you need it,” Luke said. “Only if you could stomach taking it from me.”

August saw herself through his eyes. A small-town lifer who couldn’t get it together enough to leave this place. “But not credit.”

Luke stared at her for a long moment. “I’d lose everything if I did that.”

August felt herself hardening. Any lingering sympathy she had toward him drained away. “Like that money.”

“No. I mean, yes, but it’s not just that. It’s complicated—”

“Well, I’ll make it simple.” August moved closer. “You’re not singing ‘Another Love Song.’”

“Yes, I am. I hate it as much as you—”

“No, you don’t. I swear you don’t.”

“Okay.” He lifted his hands. “You’re right. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. But it’s what she hired me to do. I don’t have a choice.”

“This is your choice. Sing one line of that song, and I’ll tell everyone you lied about writing it to win that dumb reality show.”

Luke looked horrified, staring blankly like she’d transformed into someone else. Maybe she had. Offering money was like baring his neck to a bloodthirsty vampire. He’d made her his monster.

“You want me to quit? Walk away from the last chance to do anythingwith my life? Music is all I’m good for. I fuck this up, they won’t touch me again.”

His voice was tight, hinting at the first genuine anger she’d seen since he returned. She wanted more of it. She wanted him to feel what she’d been carrying inside for years.

“I didn’t tell you to quit,” she said. “Sing something else.”

“That song is all anyone wants from me.”

“Because you never gave them anything else! Just country-bro bullshit that only works for white boys. You hid more than a songwriting credit, Luke. You hid yourself. You hid your voice.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He was yelling now, matching her fury. “I am very much aware that I fucked my career before it started. But I can’t change it. I tried and failed repeatedly. And we both know it’s ’cause I can’t write shit without you!”

The solution came to her with such clarity she struggled to put it into words. “You’re right” was all she said as a plan tumbled into place.

Luke had everything to lose, but since Birdie died, August had nothing worth protecting. She hated her job. Her family barely tolerated her. She’d spent most of her adult life caring for Birdie because that’s what you did when you loved someone. You stayed.

Meanwhile, Luke had done the opposite, putting his ambition over everything. Now here they were, standing at two life-altering precipices with completely different trajectories. Luke’s was pointed skyward, with unlimited potential, while hers was a slow disintegration, like an old tree no one knew was dying.