When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing. My phone was somewhere in the bed, which I only knew because I felt it vibrating somewhere in the tangled sheets, and once I’d gotten some sense of awareness I flung them off and immediately went reaching for it.

To my horror, it was already after 1 PM. I hadn’t slept this late in years, but after the hard work I’d put into the bar with the crew the night before, maybe it wasn’t so surprising I was so tired.

There was also the stress of the reporter and the tension between Jason and me, the same stress that refused to leave me alone after I’d gotten home. I felt like the worst person in the world when I’d turned down Jason’s offer to go back to his place and spend the night, but I just didn’t think it was a good idea. I hadn’t been home all day long to check on mom, and I really needed to make sure she was okay.

But I also just thought a night apart would do us both some good.

My phone finally stopped vibrating, which stirred me back into the moment, and I looked down at the screen in amazement to find over a dozen phone calls and voicemails, thirty text messages, and four hundred emails. I had no idea what was going on—my phone never blew up like this—but I could only assume it wasn’t good.

I tapped over to the phone app and found a series of voicemails from Tom, my manager, and my heart dropped into my stomach. The only reason Tom would be calling was if he had bad news. I tapped on the first message and held the phone to my ear.

“Dan, I don’t know where the hell you are, I don’t know if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, which wouldn’t surprise me, but you really need to call me as soon as you get this. It’s big news and not good news,” Tom said, his voice high and frantic. I tapped to listen to the next message, but it was more or less the exact same thing, so I set it aside and went through my texts.

Almost all of them made reference to an article they’d read about me and the song dedication I’d made to Jason. It was my worst fear come to life, something that seemed like it was a nightmare, so I slapped myself on the forehead a few times just to make sure that I wasn’t asleep.

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. Jason was right to be afraid. What the hell was I thinking to allow that reporter into the bar? And why had he published something without my permission anyway? Had he really even talked to my publicist, or was that just something he made up to get through the door?

As much as I didn’t want to, I knew I had to talk to Tom, so I tapped on his phone number to start the call. He answered almost right away.

“Where the hell have you been? Why was it so difficult to get a hold of you?” he asked, or more accurately shouted.

“I worked late at the bar last night and I’m a little exhausted, that’s all,” I said. “I just woke up and saw the messages and emails and everything else. What the hell happened?”

“That’s a damn good question, I was hoping to ask you the same thing. What the hell is this all about? Are you trying to ruin your career?” Tom asked.

“No, absolutely not, it was just a misunderstanding. I don’t know why this reporter thought he could print this crap, but I told him explicitly Jason and that we were just business partners,” I said.

“Well, none of that matters. It’s all out in the public now and the label is coming unglued. I don’t care what it costs you, I don’t care if you have to catch a ride here on the pony express, you need to get your ass back out to Hollywood so we can do some serious damage control,” Tom said.

“I can’t just leave, what about my mom?” I asked.

“You can, and you have to. I want you on the next flight out of there. Book a private charter if you have to, I don’t care, the label will pay for it. We’ve got to get you back out here and whip together a campaign to fight this,” Tom said. “The label boss is calling right now, as a matter fact. Text me when you’ve got a flight and when I can expect you,” he continued and hung up the phone before I could say anything else.

My mind spun. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t just leave because mom had no one to take care of her.

But I also couldn’t stay. I had to get back out to Hollywood to make sure that we put a damper on all this. The label couldn’t do it without me. They’d no doubt send me out on some press tour in order to correct the record, though I didn’t even know if that was possible at this point.

I dashed downstairs, barely dressed, to see what Mom was doing. If anyone could calm me down, if anyone could help me make sense of this, it would be her. Unlucky for me, she was awake and well, but she was accompanied by a woman her own age, a woman I barely recognized: her best friend, Sandy.

“Oh, there you are, sugar, I was starting to get worried about you,” Mom said, her face lighting up when she saw me come down the stairs, though she did look a little scandalized that I’d come down without many clothes on.

“Good afternoon. Hi, Sandy,” I said. “You know, I don’t normally come downstairs in my underwear, but today is not a normal day by any means,” I said and Sandy only chuckled.

“That’s okay, I’m enjoying the view,” Sandy said and my face burned. I should’ve been used to those sort of comments by now but they never really lost their impact.

“Is everything okay? You haven’t slept this late since you were a teenager,” Mom said.

“No, it’s definitely not okay. I’m kinda freaking out,” I said and immediately Mom’s face turned to one of concern as she pushed herself forward in her wheelchair to the stairs.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s Jason, the bar, all of it,” I said, so frantic I could barely keep my thoughts straight. Everything felt like it was crumbling down around me like I’d gone to sleep in a dream and woken up in a living nightmare.

“It’s what?” Mom asked, her voice low now, her hand gripping mine.

“It’s a long story, but the press has picked up that I and Jason are seeing each other and I guess they’re having a field day with it. Tom blew up my phone this morning trying to get a hold of me, but I was so tired from working last night I didn’t even hear or feel it ringing, and now they want me back in California,” I dumped and the color drained from Mom’s face, though there wasn’t much there to begin with.

“But I’m not leaving you, I can’t do it. The label will just have to figure out something else. Maybe I can do an Internet broadcast from here at the house or something if I have to,” I said, grasping for ideas. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be a good start.

“Dan, sugar, you know I hate to say this, but I told you so,” she said, though I didn’t believe for a second that she hated to say it. She’d waited to say it her entire life.

“Yeah, whatever, you were right. What do you want me to say? I can’t fix it, I can’t take it back, so I’ve got to do something, but I’m not leaving you alone,” I said.

“Go, just go. Don’t worry about me, I’ve got Sandy, I can take care of myself and Sandy can watch out for me, can’t you, Sandy?” Mom asked over her shoulder and Sandy nodded emphatically as if that settled anything.

“That’s ridiculous, she can’t be here every minute of the day,” I said.

“Well, neither can you,” she said. She hadn’t meant for it to be combative or dismissive, but it was true. I was probably less available for her than Sandy would’ve been, given that Sandy was retired and widowed.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like a good idea,” I said.

“It’ll be fine. Besides, my doctor’s appointment today delivered good news,” Mom said and my stomach dropped again. I’d completely forgotten she had an appointment today, an appointment I was supposed to take her to, and that was probably why Sandy was in the house in the first place. Mom must’ve called her and asked her to take her when she couldn’t get me out of bed.

“Good news? What good news?” I asked, desperate for something that might make me feel a little less weightless.

“I’m in remission,” Mom said, her face lighting up, and even though it was the best thing I’d heard in months, it wasn’t enough to totally take away the black cloud of what I had to deal with once I got back to California. It was enough, however, to convince me that I could leave.

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy,” I said and threw my arms around Mom’s shoulders. She held me close, digging her fingernails into my shoulders.

“I told you not to put your life on hold for me. If you need to go, then go. Do what you have to do and come back when you can. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready,” she whispered into my ear.

“I love you,” I said when I pulled away and held her hand in my hands. She was crying, but it wasn’t a sad cry, it was the happiest look in the world.

“I love you too, and I’ve never been more proud of you, I want you to know that. No matter what happens with this, you’ll always have me,” Mom said and I started to cry too. It was good to know, especially considering everything I would have to go through in the next few days and weeks. Lord only knew what would happen to my reputation as a result of this, or what would happen between me and Jason.

The thought of Jason was like having one of my lungs punctured, sucking the air out of me and making me feel like I’d never breathe again. Because the long and short of it was that, even if I didn’t manage to spin this damage into a positive light, Jason and I couldn’t go on seeing each other.

That alone was enough to trample the good news of Mom’s remission. How could I leave Jason again? I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a choice. As long as we were seeing each other, as long as we were in business together and being seen in public, these rumors would dog us for the rest of our lives, which would only make things worse for both of us.

It had to stop, for both of our sakes, but I hoped he would understand. I’d nullify the contract over the bar if I had to, pass all the profits back to Jason and George, anything I could do to smooth over the fact we would once again have to part ways. Maybe, years from now when I was no longer a country singer, we could try again—of course, assuming Jason would ever want to see me again in the first place.

“I need to go book some flights,” I said to Mom and she nodded.

“Go, do whatever you need to do. Let me know if you need a ride to the airport, I’m sure Sandy would take you,” she said and again Sandy nodded.

“I’m sorry to have ruined your good day with all this,” I said but Mom only shook her head.

“Please, you couldn’t ruin my day if you tried. Now go, before things get even worse,” she said and I dashed back upstairs to hastily throw my belongings back into the two suitcases I’d brought with me. I didn’t have time to shower, I didn’t have time to get ready, I just needed to get out the door and on my way to the airport—but I would have to stop by the bar first.

No matter how little time I had, it wasn’t so little that I could justify skipping town yet again without telling Jason. It was bad enough that I had to break things off with him as a result of my own irresponsibility, but I wouldn’t let that dictate how we parted. I wouldn’t disappear on him twice.

So, once all my things were packed, I flipped open my laptop and booked the best, fastest flight I could find. It cost a pretty penny, but I was banking on what Tom said about the label footing the bill.

I hauled everything downstairs, careful not to do any damage to mom’s beautifully painted walls with my suitcases, and Sandy came running.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“You don’t have to take me. I can call a cab. Besides, there’s a stop I need to make on the way,” I said and made brief eye contact with Mom. She looked away quickly, but she knew exactly what I was talking about.

But, unlike me, she didn’t seem disappointed about it, though she had to have known how much it hurt me.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind,” Sandy said. I appreciated the offer, but I’d been driving with her before and I knew she wouldn’t get me where I needed to go in the timeframe that I needed to get there, so I shook my head.

“Really, it’s fine, I don’t mind taking a cab,” I said, and pulled my phone out of my pocket to pull up a ridesharing app and call a ride. Even in this small town, without its own transportation system, there was a car available that would be pulling in in the next five minutes. That wasn’t as fast as I would’ve liked, but it was the best I could do. I punched in the address for the bar and stepped outside to turn the words over in my head.

How could I say this? How could I see Jason’s face again, knowing what I needed to say, and try to do it in a way that wouldn’t shatter his heart? Because no matter how I sliced it, this to him would be like a knife in the back. And it was all my fault. If I hadn’t been so stupid as to make that dedication at the bar’s grand reopening, if I’d had the slightest bit of foresight about what it might do to us and the bar itself, I would’ve kept it in my mouth where it belonged, or whispered to him while we were together.

I doubted he would ever understand, and I couldn’t blame him for that, but I hoped that one day soon he’d be able to forgive me. So, when the car pulled up outside, I threw my luggage into the trunk, greeted the driver only briefly and told him to step on it to take me to Second Chances.

The name of the bar had never seemed apter as we sped away toward it.