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My mind drifts to Daniel. What would he think if he saw us now? His best friend and his little sister, barely speaking, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The thought makes my stomach churn. I've always valued Daniel's trust, his friendship. The idea of disappointing him, of causing trouble between him and Scarlett... it's unbearable.
I glance at Scarlett again. Her jaw is set, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on her thigh. She looks... conflicted. Like she's wrestling with something internally. I wonder what's going through her mind. Is she regretting agreeing to this trip? Regretting giving me a chance?
The thought sends a jolt of panic through me. I can't let this continue. I can't let one stupid moment ruin everything.
“Scarlett,” I start, my voice hoarse from disuse. “I?—”
“Don't,” she cuts me off, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes are guarded, but I can see a flicker of something else there. Hurt? Disappointment? “Just... don't, Jett.”
I swallow hard, nodding. Message received. But I can't just let it go. I can't let her think that this is who I really am.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the car over to the side of the road. Scarlett looks at me, surprise and wariness warring on her face.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I turn in my seat to face her fully. “I'm sorry,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I acted like a jerk back there. I know I disappointed you. And I'm sorry.”
Scarlett's expression softens slightly, but she doesn't say anything. I forge on, determined to make her understand.
“I've been defensive for so long,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “Always on guard, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's exhausting, and sometimes... sometimes I lash out. But that's not an excuse. I know that.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “I'm working on it, Scar. I promise. I want to be better. I want to be the kind of person who deserves your friendship, who deserves Daniel's trust.”
Scarlett studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks finally.
“Because...” I pause, considering my words carefully. “Because your opinion matters to me. Because I don't want you to think that's who I really am. And because... I like who I am when I'm with you. The real me, not the rock star persona.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of Scarlett's lips. “The real you, huh? And who's that?”
I feel a glimmer of hope at her softening expression. “Just a guy who loves music, who values his friends, and who's trying his best to navigate this crazy life. A guy who sometimes screws up, but who's always trying to do better.”
Scarlett nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “Okay,” she says softly. “I can work with that.”
Scarlett's words hang in the air between us, a tentative olive branch. I feel the tension in my shoulders ease slightly, but there's still something off about her demeanor. She's fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her eyes darting around nervously.
“Scar,” I say gently, “what's going on? There's something else bothering you, isn't there?”
She bites her lip, hesitating. Then, with a deep sigh, she meets my gaze. “I lost my job, Jett.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch. “What? When?”
“Right before this trip,” she admits, her voice small. “The whole department was retrenched. I... I haven't told anyone yet. Not even Daniel.”
Suddenly, her earlier defensiveness makes sense. She's been carrying this weight alone, putting on a brave face. My heart aches for her.
“Scarlett, I'm so sorry,” I say, resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand. “That must be incredibly stressful.”
She nods, blinking rapidly. “It is. I mean, I hated that job, but it was stability, you know? And now...” She trails off, shrugging helplessly.
I watch her, my mind racing. I want to help, to take away her worry. And then, before I can think better of it, the words tumble out of my mouth: “What if you came to work for me?”
Scarlett's head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “What?”
I plow on, the idea taking shape as I speak. “I mean it. You're an accountant, right? I could use someone I trust to help manage my finances, keep track of tour expenses, that sort of thing.”
For a moment, Scarlett just stares at me, her expression unreadable. Then, to my relief, she bursts out laughing. It's a genuine laugh, the kind that crinkles her eyes and lights up her whole face. I can't help but grin in response.
“Oh, Jett,” she says, shaking her head. “You can't just offer people jobs like that.”
