I can’t tell what the hell she’s thinking. She’s retreated back behind those golden eyes like a ghost, and I can’t reach her. There’s nothing I can say to make this choice for her, nothing I can do to shoulder this burden.

It’s her call.

So, I give her space when she tells me she’s going to take a nap in my bed. I know she needs to be alone to process. The last thing I want to do is pressure her into a decision she’s going to regret a few months down the line. At the same time… I can’t pretend I’m not excited about the Route 66 deal.

I’d get to follow my dreams. So would Linc and Aiden.

But she never dreamed of this. Felicity never wanted anything to do with this life.

I’m jittery from the anxiety, from not knowing how this is going to play out, even after I pop two little white pills in my mouth and chase them down with a beer in the bathroom. The guys are just as on edge. I’ve never heard our apartment so quiet as we sit on the sofa, staring into space.

Three men awaiting life sentences.

Noon.

One o’clock.

Two o’clock.

When there’s still no word from her at three, we switch from beer to whiskey, passing around the bottle in grim routine. This morning, our dreams felt so close I could reach out and grab them with both hands. Now, with each tick of the clock, I feel them slipping through my grasp.

It’s selfish as hell to admit, even to myself, but I want this. I want this so bad, I can already see it — the four of us out in LA, sharing a loft, making music all day long. An album with a sound we control and cultivate, produced by a studio that supports our vision. That future is so damn clear in my mind. And I want it, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

Except her.

I want Felicity Wilde more than any stack of papers. More than seeing my name on a billboard. More than millions of fans screaming for my songs.

Now that I know what it feels like to lose her, I never plan on doing it again, if I can help it. Even if she turns down this record deal. Linc and Aiden might be resentful, but I’ll find a way to deal with it. I’ll figure out a way to fulfill my dreams without dragging her into them against her will.

It’s five on the dot when my bedroom door finally cracks open.

All three of us turn to watch her as she walks into the room, looking fragile as she stands there barefoot, wearing one of those gossamer sundresses that cling to her curves so perfectly. I try to read her answer on her face, but she’s a master at concealing her thoughts.

“Well?” Linc practically spits, feeling far less patient.

Her eyes dart to mine and, slowly, a grin spreads across her face. I feel my chest expand with joy and relief and excitement.

“Let’s do it.” She laughs. “Let’s make an album.”

Aiden and Linc holler so loud, I’m sure the neighbors think there’s a homicide in progress. I hold out my arms and Felicity hurls herself into them, laughing as I spin her around the room in dizzying circles.

* * *

We lie beneath my sheets later that night, breathing each other in. My arms are wrapped around her, tracing circles on her bare skin with my fingertips. Her head is on my chest, listening to each beat of my heart as it pounds beneath her ear.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask softly. “I know it’s all happening pretty fast.”

Her head lifts until her eyes find mine. “I’m sure.”

“It’s going to be good.” I grin. “Better than good, Felicity. It’s going be amazing.”

“I know.”

“We still have to decide on the band name.” My brows draw together. “Anything come to you, yet? Linc wants something short that also has meaning. He suggested we go by Nash — which is so fucking terrible I refuse to dignify it with any actual consideration. Aiden wants something unique — The Wandering Souls or When Darkness Comes or some equally awful shit.”

“Short, unique, and also meaningful. That’s a tall order.” Felicity laughs. “What about you? Any suggestions, since you seem to hate everyone else’s ideas?”

“Nothing’s come to mind yet.”

She’s silent for a long time — so long I think she’s fallen asleep, but when I glance down, I see her eyes are open and full of thoughts. Her murmur is achingly soft. “Wildwood.”

“What?”

“As a name for the band. What about Wildwood?” Her eyes lift. “Wilde and Woods. Your last name and mine, combined. It’s short, it’s unique, and it has meaning.”

I grin. “You, Felicity Wilde, are a genius. Have I told you that?”

“Not today.”

I glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven thirty. There’s still time.”

“Cutting it pretty close there, mister.” Her smile wavers a bit as a thought occurs to her. “Hard to believe it’s our last night in Nashville.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to leave so soon?” A fissure of unease runs through me as I think about our flight tomorrow night. Francesca managed to book us on the same red-eye she’s taking back to LA. “If you have loose ends you need to tie up here…”

“They’re already tied,” Felicity murmurs. “I thought I was leaving back on the Fourth, remember? I said goodbye to Gran. Quit my job. Cleared all my stuff out of the apartment above The Nightingale. The only thing I have to do is grab my bag and my guitar from Carly’s when I go over to say goodbye to her tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” My gaze scans her face. “You ever plan on telling me what you were running away from?”

There’s a flicker of fear in her eyes. “I will. I promise. I just…”

“Shhh.” My lips find hers. “I’m not trying to push you. I just want you to know, I’m here. No matter what you need.”

She cuddles closer to me. I press my lips against her hair and breathe in her scent. It soothes the nervous energy inside me like a balm applied directly on my soul.

“Ryder?” she says after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“You won’t become one of those Hollywood health nuts who measures every ounce of boiled chicken that passes his lips and makes me run ten miles every morning? Because I’m not a runner. My face gets all red, my arms do this strange flailing thing, and—” She sighs. “It’s not pretty.”

I laugh. “I promise.”

“I also don’t do yoga.”

“Neither do I, baby.” My hands slide lower down her body. “Though, I can think of several positions I’d like to try out with you…”

Her giggles soon turn into gasps as our last night in Nashville slips away.