Page 25 of Home Coming

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn asked.

“Shh!” Bailey hissed as she watched the horror play out on screen, all while memories began to creep back. One by one.

Her renewed rage over Axel. Her continued frustration over the music career she’d given up. That last round of tasty Fireball shots that had made this all seem like a good idea.

And the song.

Oh my God, the song.

On the screen she watched herself, seated cross-legged in her pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Quinn’s guitar, adopted by Josie after he’d left it there when he’d joined the Navy, was in her hands.

She looked up from the strings to the cell and asked, “Are you recording?”

“Yup. Good to go,” Josie’s voice said from out of the frame as only her thumbs-up showed on screen.

After a nod, she started strumming. Then she began singing.

At least she sounded good. Amazingly. Even drunk and on a cell phone the audio quality was good. And, more amazingly, the song itself was good.

Horrifyingly embarrassing in its raw emotion and truth. Nothing she would have admitted to anyone in words, it clearly expressed her hurt and anger over Axel’s betrayal. And it was out there in the world for people to see—she glanced at the views—one point three million times.

Holy shit.

On screen she moved through a simple cord progression, eyes closed as she sang. Words of love and betrayal. Anger and hurt. Verse after verse. Muscle memory and years of lessons and band performances coming back to her in her drunken state.

Quinn came into frame on the video and she sucked in a breath as he leaned against the doorway and watched her sing and play. He was any girl’s dream in gray sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt. His hair mussed just enough to be roguish and sexy as hell. His muscles bulging as he gripped the door frame over his head.

On-screen Bailey hadn’t noticed him there behind her. She ended the song on the final cords, opened her eyes and looked up at the phone and Josie behind it. “That’s it.”

That’s when the video ended. The TikTok circled back to the beginning, about to replay on a never ending loop so she hit the button to pause it and silence the phone.

Last night replayed in her memory.

They’d gotten home late, leaving Josie’s car in the bar parking lot and ordering a ride since, after the mean girl encounter, Bailey had failed miserably at being the designated driver.

She and Josie had had a heart-to-heart about Axel and how badly he’d hurt her when she’d first arrived from the city. But last night had been more of afuck him, fuck the mean girls, fuck everybody, let’s get drunkkind of vibe.

That’s when the song had popped into her head.

Even drunk, she’d wanted to get it on video so when she was sober she could evaluate if it was anything or not. If it was good, at least it wouldn’t be lost. If it wasn’t, it could go into the never-to-be-seen again file.

But Josie had accidentally hit the button to go Live rather than just record.

People had seen her playing then, and were still watching it now. Hours later, the hearts and comments were still coming in. And yeah, more than one mentioned the mystery man in the gray sweatpants leaning on the doorway.

“So, who’d like to explain this?” Xander asked, again reminding her of his continued presence on the cell in her other hand.

She thrust the second cell phone back toward Josie as she said, “I didn’t know it posted. I can hide the post right now or delete—”

“Don’t you dare delete it! Have you seen your follower count? You just hit eleven million on Instagram and surpassed that number on TikTok thanks to that video. People are reposting it all over the web. It’s on every platform racking up views and comments.”

Eleven million people followed her now. And they were all witness to her heartbreak. But only one really mattered. Quinn.

She raised her gaze to meet his and saw something she couldn’t name there. Pity? God, she hoped not. Understanding, maybe? Mixed with a little bit of shock when he heard the eleven million number.

“Xander, just tell me what you want me to do,” she begged.

She was past trying to guess what was best for her career or what her manager wanted. She didn’t even know what she wanted.

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