Page 24 of Holding Hope

Avalon snorted, then winced. “Don’t tell me you have a history of forgetting to warn people about that.”

I lifted my dress to mid-thigh and placed my knee beside hers. “Nope. Just you. I do, however, have a matching scar.”

Her eyes flicked to the pale line on my skin. Something unreadable crossed her face.

I dropped my dress and opened the first aid kit. “Hold still.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t even flinch as I cleaned the wound, wiped away the dried blood, and pressed a bandage over the cut.

“When we get to town, we’ll stop by Doc’s for a tetanus shot,” I said.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Avalon muttered. “I can put on my own Band-Aids.”

“A simple thank you would’ve sufficed,” I said, grabbing a cotton ball and sanitizer. I took her hand gently and cleaned the blood from her fingertips. “I felt bad. I wanted you to fall on your ass, not bleed to death.”

Avalon’s lips curled into a smirk. “Aha. I knew you did it for revenge.”

Revenge. Three months ago, I’d wanted revenge. I had thought about going to the papers with what she’d told me—about not writing her own music. It would’ve destroyed her. But I couldn’t do it. Because I wasn’t cruel. And because some part of me still cared.

“Something like that,” I said softly. “There. You’re right as rain.”

“Thank you,” Avalon said once we were back on the road.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence settled between us again but this time, it wasn’t sharp or heavy. It was… softer. Easier.

Maybe—just maybe—we could be friends.

Friends first.

Collaborators second.

And that was as far as I’d let Avalon Kennedy into my life.

We finished the drive in a quiet that wasn’t hostile anymore—just… tentative. Like we were both learning how to breathe the same air without combusting.

Avalon had her phone out for most of the ride, but after the third dropped call and the fifth “Are you kidding me?” she gave up and shoved it into her pocket with a dramatic groan.

By the time the tops of Opal Springs’ tallest buildings came into view—all three of them—she looked like she was seconds from dying of boredom.

“Jesus,” she muttered as she stepped out onto the dirt road that cut through the center of town. “You really live in the middle of nowhere, Texas. Why didn’t you move to a big city like normal singers?”

I shrugged, climbing the steps to Doc’s office. “I wanted to be close to home.”

That was the truth—or at least the part of it I was willing to say aloud. I used to tell myself I was needed here. For Melody. For my parents. For the ranch. For Delia. But the truth was simpler: I was scared. Scared of leaving. Scared of being alone. Scared of the city swallowing me whole.

“It’s so busy out there,” I added. “Too much paparazzi.”

The door swung open, and cool air washed over me, raising goosebumps along my arms.

“Yeah, but the city has so many things you don’t have here,” Avalon said, glancing around the small waiting room before her eyes landed on mine. “Things that could make your life easier.”

“What does the city have that I need?” I asked softly. “What could it possibly offer that would make my life better than it is right now?”

Her expression told me she didn’t believe me. That she wanted to challenge me. That she wanted to prove me wrong.

“Even a recording studio?” she asked.