Page 64 of Home Coming

How could she? He defended the world from bad guys just as surely as he’d defended her from the paparazzi. And defending the world was a hell of a lot more important than escorting her to interviews.

This was what life would always be like for Quinn. Him running off to put out the biggest fire. Leaving his loved ones behind.

“Hey.” Josie walked back into the kitchen after taking a shower. “How are you doing?”

Her tone told Bailey her friend was handling her with kid gloves. Expecting her to be upset about Quinn’s abrupt departure.

To prove her wrong she pasted on a smile.

“You mean now that my security detail has left me? I’m fine. I’ve got tons to do. I probably won’t even leave the house for days. Weeks even. I have to catch up on making all the sponsor videos I’ve been neglecting. And reply to all the nice comments on my socials. And I think I’m going to write some music to go along with the lyrics I’ve been jotting down. Just like you said. I should write more songs. I even ordered a blank music notebook the other day online.”

Josie’s eyes popped wide. “Really? Great. That’s amazing. I’m so excited for you.”

At least somebody was. Bailey was the opposite of excited but she was determined. She’d been through this before when Quinn had announced he was joining the Navy at eighteen. He was there one day and gone the next.

She’d gotten through it then. She’d get through it again now.

“So I hate to bail on you, but I’ve actually got some work to do,” Josie began.

“Oh. No. Don’t worry about me. Go. I’m fine. I was just about to get started on some writing anyway. Just going to take my tea with me…”

She hunkered down in her favorite writing chair in the living room that felt more like home to her than anyplace else ever had and just wrote. Lyrics. Music.

The guitar, pencil and the blank music notebook that had amazingly been delivered in one day from Amazon were going to be her constant companions, along with her mug of tea that she refilled throughout the day’s worth of hours.

She couldn’t have Quinn, but she did have her music.

Xander would certainly be happy to hear she was writing when she spoke to him next. She didn’t know how Quinn felt about it because she didn’t hear from him. Not even to let her know that he’d arrived safely. Not that she was watching the time and counting the hours it would take him to fly to California.

Maybe they weren’t even friends after all. Wouldn’t a friend shoot someone a text to say they’d made the journey across the country safe and sound?

Or maybe she didn’t know what friendship was. Not at all. She’d been a shitty friend to Josie this past decade. And Josie had forgiven her and opened her home to her. Gave her someplace safe to stay. Gave her more than that—unfailing, unconditional friendship.

Josie knew what friendship was. She was a good friend. She should be writing a song about Josie. About friendship instead of love— Sadly, she had a feeling that wouldn’t sell. The world was an upside down place. If only she could hide out from it in the Baldwin’s house forever.

Maybe the Baldwins would let her stay if she paid them rent.

God, that sounded nice. Not leaving this cocoon of solitude. Doing nothing but a few sponsor videos with the products delivered to the door to make some money. Binging Netflix. Baking sweets. Her and her friend.

The perfect existence.

Or it would have been if Xander didn’t decide to FaceTime her the next day when she was writing like the wind, head down, knot in stomach, heart broken.

There had been a single text from Quinn to Josie that announced he was back in California and would be out of touch for a while, but that she and his parents shouldn’t worry and he’d call when he could. Nothing to her. Not even a mention or inclusion in his text to Josie.

Out of sight, out of mind. If only that concept worked as well on Xander as it did on Quinn.

With a sigh, she hit to answer her manager’s video call. “Yes, Xander.”

“How quickly can you get an album worth of songs written?”

She drew back, surprised, though she shouldn’t be. Xander always wanted things instantly.

“I don’t know. It’s not like an assembly line. You can’t force creativity to fit your time table,” she told him with a frown.

Although, truth be told she’d made huge headway today. Apparently heartbreak and depression were great creative inspiration.

No wonder all the best creatives were notoriously morose and despondent. Hemingway. Van Gough. Cobain. Woolf. Bailey Knowles… She didn’t quite fit in with that line-up of legends, did she? But she was willing to take inspiration wherever she could find it.

---