After Ana left me, I went into hibernation. I literally turned into a bear. OK, I didn’t literally turn into one. I’m not a shape-shifter. But I think I came as close to becoming a bear as a normal, full-blooded human can.

I went off the grid. I’m not talking a Mammoth cabin with a caretaker hooking you up with L.A. gourmet dinners in the freezer. I’m talking a hardcore, can’t find a trace of you off-the-grid cabin. The kind my brother, Heath, knows all about.

Heath went off the grid sometime before his graduation from college. It had about killed our father. I think he’d been two credits shy of earning his diploma, whatever credits were. I didn’t know the details, but I got the picture. My younger brother had been about to graduate and instead of donning the cap and gown and posing for photos he’d help up his middle finger and gone Off The Grid.

I knew all about holding up my middle finger. But I needed Heath to help me disappear. Lucky for me, he answered my call and set me up in a cabin near his in Vermont. When I say near his, it was probably about 30 miles away but I think there were maybe only two houses in between us. I’m exaggerating, like the bear thing. But the essence is true. In the cold and snow in a basic, rustic cabin I felt completely alone.

Which was exactly what I wanted. I’d never felt that way before. I’d always sought out a constant hum of activity. Now, I understood the other path my younger brother had taken. Stripped down, there were no distractions. No cell phone, no internet, no fans, no cameras. There was no bullshit. Just you and the elements.

And a piano. I knew that maybe was a little L.A. of me to insist on having a piano, but it wasn’t like I was demanding that roadies remove all the green M&Ms from the backstage dishes. Not that I’d ever done that, just for the record. But I needed a piano. I knew I had something I needed to work on, to finish up.

And I did, with the wind howling that the snow piling up outside, I let it all out into that song. Undone. I wrote it all for Ana, about Ana, with what was left of me after Ana had walked away.

I’d already written a lot of what I said in the song in a letter to her. Before I took off for the cabin, I wrote a long letter, the kind men used to write women when they used quills instead of pens. Or at least I hoped it was that kind of a letter. I was shit at writing. She probably couldn’t even read my handwriting. But I didn’t care, I wanted to write her exactly how I felt without worrying about how dumb I sounded or what she might think of me. I stayed up all night telling her exactly how much she meant to me, how she’d changed everything in my life and I never wanted to be without her. I loved her. I sealed it and stamped it and brought it down to the post office like a regular citizen and off it went.

I never heard back from her. Not even a cursory “thanks for the note!” Nothing. I guess I hadn’t really expected her to hop on the next flight back to California and run into my arms, but it would have been nice.

So, instead of burying myself in Ana like I wanted to, I did the next best thing. I took off for the wilds of Vermont and wrote a song unlike any I’d ever written before. I figured that was a good thing. If I wanted to make big changes in my life, why not start with the core of what I did, making music? I had it finished by the time the Super Bowl rolled around, and I brought a crappy digital recording with me to play for my studio.

Lola and Joel just about crapped their pants in joy over my re-emergence. Sorry to be crass, but that about summed up the moment. I meant it when I said I’d gone off the grid. No one had been able to contact me for weeks leading up to the show. Not Connor, no one. And Ana, the one person I wanted to contact me, hadn’t.

I wondered if I was the first celebrity they’d had to hose down and shave so I could appear for a pre-game interview. I think I’d been wearing the same clothes for about a week by the time I showed up for rehearsals. Connor wasn’t looking too hot, either, though he looked more zombie than bear. I’d found him passed out in Johnny’s hotel room with two naked girls on his chest. As usual.

The thing about Connor was he never wanted to be alone. Even when we were in S.F. where we all had homes, he never seemed to want to be at his own place, always crashing over my place or Johnny’s or trying to book us into hotel suites. Once I got home, the last place I wanted to be was another goddamned hotel. Not so for Connor.

He looked peaceful lying there asleep, but I had something I wanted to talk about with him.

“Get up, mate.” I kicked his foot with my boot. He could rally with the best of them, and five minutes later we were walking down a sidewalk.

“Want one?” He offered me a cigarette.

“You know I quit.”

“I keep waiting for you to come to your senses.” We paused a moment while he protected the flame from his lighter and lit up. “Where the fuck’ve you been?” he asked after he’d taken a long drag. “Lola said New Hampshire?”

“Vermont.” He nodded like they were the same place.

“With your librarian?”

“No. She left me.”

He nodded, smoking as we walked. “Best for everyone.”

“Is it?” I looked at him, wondering why he looked so damn happy. I was really not happy. That didn’t seem to cross his radar.

“Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” I could see him tense up. “Ana said something, before she left. About you being the date-rape king. Do you know what she was talking about?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged, nonchalant. But I could hear an edge to his voice. I’d known him too long.

“You know she was drugged on New Year’s Eve?” I didn’t know exactly what I was getting at. I wasn’t 100 percent ready to accuse Connor, but I did feel like I needed to ask about it. She’d wanted me to.

Connor ran a frustrated hand through his unruly red hair. “So, you disappear for a month. You show up looking like a fucking bear. And now you’re on me about drugging some girl?”

“I didn’t say you drugged her—”

“That girl’s a fucking tease, that’s what she is. She’s got a stick up her ass and she needs something to help her loosen up.”

“Don’t talk like that about her!” Hot anger flooded through me and I stopped dead in my tracks.

“When did you become such a fucking boy scout?”

“Did you drug her?”

The way he avoided my eyes told me everything I needed to know. Again, that was the good and the bad thing about knowing someone so well. You could read them easily. He had drugged her. With a sickening lurch, I remembered how I’d found them, Ana passed out cold and him about to slip out the door with her over his shoulder. I’d thought he’d found her like that and was bringing her to safety.

“You’re an asshole,” I realized. I didn’t know if he always had been, but he sure was now.

“You’re a nasty little prig. No one even likes being around you anymore, Ash. You’re a killjoy.”

I punched him hard, so hard he fell down onto the sidewalk in a heap. I wanted to keep on going, beating him within an inch of my life, but after a few more choice words I pulled myself up and walked away. He belonged down in the gutter where I left him, but I didn’t belong down there, too. He’d dragged me down enough times in my life already.

The makeup artist before the Super Bowl show did a great job of covering up the bruise along Connor’s jaw. For the TV cameras, he looked good to go under a heavy cake of foundation. But our friendship was going to take more than makeup to make it better. An apology from him would be a start, but it didn’t look like that was coming any time soon. He sulked and avoided me and after the show I took off again, not back to Vermont but to my home in S.F.

I honestly had no idea how the Super Bowl halftime specular show went. I wasn’t interested. We didn’t make any official announcements, but The Blacklist was on hiatus. Indefinitely. I couldn’t imagine wanting to make music with Connor, or re-enter that whole crazy carnival any time soon if at all.

My label got behind the idea once they heard my single “Undone.” I didn’t lie to them. That was the only song I had, no album to follow. But they felt it was strong enough they wanted to rush it to release. A few L.A. studio sessions later and the song started hitting the airwaves.

I wasn’t even thinking about whether it would be a success. What I was wondering was whether Ana would hear it, and, if she did, what she’d think of it. I’d written it for her, after all.

But she already knew every word. I’d written it all to her in my letter, my love for her, how her leaving me left me undone. I did wonder if people might call it melodramatic. If you’d never felt that low before, you might. The lyrics were the kinds of words I’d never written before. I’d never let myself feel that vulnerable, that raw. It was a big risk.

But, it turned out, people loved it. It was a huge commercial hit, one of the biggest successes I’d ever had. Critics were calling it the best song of the 2000s, revealing a new depth to my maturation as a recording artist. Whatever that meant.

I wasn’t what you’d call an introspective man, but even I realized a lot had changed for me over the past year. Ana had certainly been the catalyst, but right before I’d met her something else big had happened. My father had died. I’d spent so long defying him, proving my own worth in opposition to all of his values. In all that rebellion, I’d almost forgotten what I wanted. Now, he wasn’t there to fight with anymore. I wasn’t saying it was a good thing that my father had passed away. I was simply realizing that since he’d been gone, I’d felt a shift. I’d always had his brick wall to rail against. Now, without it, maybe I didn’t have to fight so hard? Maybe I could let go and admit what I really wanted?

What I really wanted was Ana. I sent her a note along with the packet Lola put together. Honestly, songwriters didn’t get award party invites. There wasn’t even a BMA category for best songwriter. A lot of artists didn’t write their own songs and they didn’t exactly want to broadcast—literally—their lack of musical ability. But Ana deserved to be there. The song was hers. She’d heard the scratch of an idea from me and she’d blossomed it, grown it into the haunting tune that now played across the world. Lola knew everybody, so when I asked her to ask someone as a favor to Ash Black, not only had Ana received an invitation but I’d been able to slip my own note into the packet along with it.

I got nothing back from her, though. I guessed I could have said more in my note. I’d kept it short. But I’d said it all in the letter I’d written her back in January, and then again in the song she had to have heard a million times by now. Another long, pleading note might seem like overkill.

But what did Ana think of the song? Our song. I’d created the lyrics and I suppose a case could be made that I’d come up with the original melody. A whole team of lawyers from the label had tried to talk me out of giving Ana songwriting credit, or at least they advocated for co-credit. But my lawyer, Nelson, had stuck by me. He’d insisted. It was his client’s wish. And what Nelson insisted upon, Nelson got.

I didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. I didn’t need to prove I could write a song like that. It was Ana’s song. Now I just needed to know what she thought of it. And, more importantly, what she thought of us.

The night of the awards show, I flew solo. It felt strange to be there without my band mates. Strange but good.

Walking into the pre-party, I was completely sober. How’s that for crazy? Rock god Ash Black sober. At night. At a party. What were the chances?

Stylists put me all in white. A little cheesy, I’ll admit, but sure, I went with it. I cut off most of my hair, too. It felt cleaner, like a fresh start.

Pit Bull came over and gave me some shit about stealing his look. We both wore all white and rocked mirrored aviator shades. I wasn’t saying anything, but I had about a foot of height on the guy. He was pretty cool, though.

I still didn’t know if Ana was coming or not. She’d RSVP’d yes, I got that out of Lola. But sometimes people said they’d show and then didn’t. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much.

Even if I did see her, who knew if she’d want to talk to me? She’d closed up shop after that night in the cabin. I didn’t even know exactly what she’d overheard me and Connor talking about. I’d been pretty drunk. I remembered Connor telling me that his sister was in the hospital from an overdose. And I remembered giving him a lot of reassurances that nothing was going to change. Everything was going to stay the same.

It must have been some of that talk she overhead. So, I honestly couldn’t deny whatever stupid things she’d heard me say. I could blame it on the alcohol, or blame it on my 14 years of friendship with Connor translating into pressure and guilt.

But, really, I had to be honest. Back then, I’d had some doubts. I’d been recognizing my feelings for her, but I hadn’t been man enough to tell her. I’d let myself get spooked by it. Maybe a small part of me had wanted things to go back like they had been.

Once she’d left me? All shadow of doubt vanished. I wanted Ana. I needed Ana. Nothing else mattered. And if she gave me an opening at this awards show, I’d take it and tell her myself.

Nervous, I sipped some water and surveyed the room. People came over, said a word or two, but I was looking for one woman and one woman only. These parties were a lot easier when I’d been drunk, or had an easy lay at my side. One I was interested in, at least. I still had the easy lays all around. A woman standing eagerly in front of me gave me a sultry smile and not-so-subtly plumped up her ample breasts. It wasn’t her fault I didn’t find her attractive. Last year, I would have been all over that. Now? She wasn’t Ana and I wasn’t interested.

I was talking with a guy I didn’t know too well when she arrived. He was about my age, a Brit, and I liked his music. He had an original voice and a down-to-earth way about him. He’d only just broken out in the past year or two and didn’t seem like he’d become much of a wanker. Yet. I hoped he stayed that way.

Funny thing, we hadn’t spoken a word about Ana, not at the party or any time before then, but all of a sudden he leaned in and said under his breath, “She’s here.”

I tensed up. How did he know I was waiting to see Ana? But I guessed it was common knowledge, our romance, every step recorded and broadcast.

I turned and saw Ana across the room. I guessed she was wearing a shimmering dress, but she was what shone in the crowd. She looked amazing, radiant, and my breath caught in my throat.

The guy I’d been talking to clapped me on the back. “Good luck.”

Ana looked over at that moment and met my gaze. I guess maybe other people talked to me, maybe they didn’t. I couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else besides Ana until she finally made her way over to me. Her long legs in that dress, stretching down into high, high heels. The hemline barely hit her mid-thigh. I could reach my hand between those thighs and part her legs so easily.

She stood in front of me and swallowed, licking her lips, nervously.

“Ana.” My voice sounded husky.

“Hi, Ash.” She had a hard time meeting my eyes now that we were standing close. It took all the willpower I had not to scoop her into my arms, sink my mouth to her neck, carry her off out of the room like a caveman. She was mine. We belonged together. Didn’t she feel it, too?

Someone came up and started babbling to us about our song, congratulating us on our mega hit. There was talk of nominations for VMAs, the Grammies later in the year. I never took my eyes off of her.

“Red carpet time, people!” Lola arrived, right on cue. “Oh, look. You’re here.” Lola didn’t sound happy about it, but she could kiss my ass. She probably considered Ana a liability. Loose lips sink ships and all that. But I considered Ana my future, if she’d give me a shot.

“May I?” I extended my hand, hoping Ana would take it. In front of all those people, we hadn’t had even a second to talk. But she looked up into my eyes and with a soft smile, she put her hand in mine.