Page 52 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Chapter Seventeen

Jinnie

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I WAKE UP WITH JACK’S back to me. That’s weird. Usually when we sleep together, he keeps me snug against him. I roll to my side and gently reach out, gently tugging his shoulder. He rolls to his back and murmurs something. I assume it’s probably a lyric. I watch him sleeping. He’s so relaxed. It’s getting harder to marry the two different Jacks I know. I’ve been inundated with pictures of him and the many videos of him on social media with the man next to me.

This is the Jack I know. That other guy is not him. But I’m beginning to think the other guy is quickly becoming the real Jack. He’s spending a lot of time being Jack Hayes the rockstar instead of Jack Hayes the kid from a dairy farm.

My notebook sits open on the nightstand, filled with lyrics we scribbled last night between kisses and laughter. Jack’s messy handwriting tangles with mine, words crossed out and rewritten, chords scribbled in the margins. It feels like we’ve created something real. Something lasting. He was on a roll last night. He just kept coming up with new music. Between making love and writing, we were up most of the night.

I’m not complaining.

Jack stirs, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks before his eyes open. He looks at me, a slow smile spreads across his face when he sees me watching.

“Morning,” he says.

I lean over to kiss him. His hands slide up my bare back. “We should get up,” I murmur, even as my fingers twist in his hair.

He groans, pulling me closer. “Why?”

“Because you have an album to finish.”

Jack nips at my bottom lip. “Later.”

But we do get up—eventually—and over coffee and toast we finish the last two songs. His fingers dance across the guitar strings, bringing our shared words to life. I love this. I love watching him create. More importantly, I love being part of the process. It feels right. Like I’ve stumbled onto something I didn’t know I was searching for.

“You’re staring,” Jack says without looking up.

I take a sip of coffee to hide my smile. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Marketing,” I admit. “How songs are sold. The branding behind it all.”

Jack’s fingers still on the strings. He looks up at me with surprise. “You’d be amazing at that.”

Before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and sighs. “Studio wants me in an hour.”

“Really?”

He nods. “They have been chomping at the bit to get this thing done.”

He leans back in his chair, his bare feet propped up on the edge of the table, completely at ease. I take another bite of my toast, watching him. There’s a confidence in the way he moves now, in the way he carries himself, that wasn’t there before. It’s not a bad thing—not exactly—but it’s different. It’s new.

“I guess I should hop in the shower,” I say and down the last of my coffee.

“We don’t have to rush,” he says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Let them wait.”

I pause, my eyebrows lifting slightly. “Wait?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’m the star, aren’t I? They can cool their heels for a bit.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and awkward. I put my mug down. My stomach twists, but I don’t say anything. Not yet.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice my hesitation. He just keeps talking, his voice light and easy, like this is normal. Like it’s okay. “Besides, they need me more than I need them. Now that I’ve got a whole new set of music, they’re going to want me.

This isn’t him. Or maybe it is now. I don’t know.