Page 106 of Everything In Between
I’m watching the road pass by, appreciating how the pines seem to tower over the road and stretch on for miles. Hayes switches the station and then turns up the volume a smidge when the radio host states she has an exciting announcement. I mildly tune in, still looking out the window at the beautiful Wisconsin scenery, getting lost in the thought of Mickey and Preston being the ring bearers at our wedding.
Or more specifically, getting lost in the thoughts of Hayes’s and my wedding.
“You all are in for a treat now. This is Meghan Connelly’s brand new single, fresh out of the recording studio. It’s called ‘A Piece of Me.’ Enjoy.”
I blink, staring at the radio, a little surprised at the coincidence that her new song is the same name of one I’ve written in the past. The song starts and as it progresses, my mouth goes dry as I listen to the words.
No. It can’t be.
It ismysong.
But it’s not.
Those are my words, but it’s not the right melody, or the right beat, or the rightanything.
But those are undeniably my words.
The exact same words I sang for Hayes on Christmas Day.
I turn to him, and he’s watching me with wide eyes and a slack jaw, picking up on what’s happening right now, too. Any fluffy, fairytale daydreams I was having quickly turn to ice, cutting through my heart and freezing me from head to toe.
“Hayes,” I whisper, unable to hide the betrayal seeping through me. “This ismysong.”
His expression deepens into something less akin to surprise and more like hatred. “I thought those were your lyrics.”
I wrap my arms around my middle. He doesn’t get it. “Hayes,” I say again.
“What?”
“Youare theonlyperson I’ve played this song for. Ever,” I add. I’m going to throw up. The implications of what I’m telling him are too much. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. There is no version of my life where I can imagine Hayes betraying me like this, but how else could my song have ended up on the radio?
He catches on quickly, and he shakes his head, holding his hands up as we’re stopped at a stop sign. “I would never, Jersey. You can’t possibly think I would have leaked it. It doesn’t even sound the same!”
“You said you wished you would have recorded it,” I whisper, helplessness oozing into accusation.
“Yeah, but I didn’t!” His voice breaks. “Jersey, I love you. I would never betray you. I swear, on everything, I had nothing to do with this.”
I bury my face in my hands, focusing on my breathing.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count down from fifty.
All around me, the world is crumbling. My words, my most prized possession, sung into existence in a way that destroys their depth, the very essence of their meaning. The most intimate parts of me being aired out to dry and then donned by someone else.
I never could have foreseen this happening without my explicit knowledge.
I feel violated and dirty.
Someone stole from me and blasted it across every airwave and every streaming service.
Dizziness consumes me and the whole world tilts in the wrong direction, past the point of no return.
“Stop the car,” I mutter before clapping a hand over my mouth.
He does without any hesitation, pulling over to the side of the road. We’re only minutes away from the house, but it’s too late.
I toss open the door and stumble out of my seat just in time for my lunch to come hurling forward.
On my hands and knees, I retch, the weight of the situation souring in my gut like spoiled milk. My stomach revolts at the idea that someone would do this to me. My head continues to spin, trying to make sense of such a betrayal.
