Chapter 2

The ink on the divorce papers was barely dry.

I called Marcus Thorne, a record producer in Austin I'd met years ago.

He'd offered me a gig then, a chance to front my own band.

I'd turned him down. For Izzy. For our life in Nashville.

"Liam Walker! To what do I owe the honor?" Marcus's voice boomed over the line.

"Marcus, is that offer still on the table? The one from a few years back?"

Silence. Then, "Are you serious? Hell yes, it's still on the table! I've been waiting for you to come to your senses. Nashville was wasting your talent, son."

His enthusiasm was a small balm on a raw wound.

"I can be there in a week," I said. "Just need to tie up a few loose ends here."

"The sooner, the better, Liam! Austin's ready for you."

I hung up, a sliver of something like peace settling in my chest.

Austin. A new city. A new start.

No memories of Izzy on every corner.

I thought back to that offer from Marcus.

Izzy had just gotten her first big break.

She' d asked me to stay, to be her anchor, her songwriter.

"We're a team, Liam," she'd said. "I need you."

And I, blinded by love, had agreed.

Now, the bitter truth: my choice had been a mistake.

But there was no use dwelling on it. Forward was the only way.

That night, sleep was a battlefield.

Memories of Izzy, of our life together, assaulted me.

Her laughter, the way she hummed when she was writing, the feel of her hand in mine.

The sacrifices I'd made, the songs I'd written for her, the dreams we'd shared.

All of it now tainted, twisted by her betrayal.

The image of her face, soft with fake concern as she handed me the divorce papers, burned behind my eyelids.

I woke up to the gray light of dawn, the other side of the bed cold and empty.

The silence in the house was deafening.

Slowly, I got up, showered, dressed.

The motions were mechanical, detached.

My phone buzzed. A text message.

From Cody.

A picture. Him and Izzy.

She was wearing a white dress, a simple, elegant one.

He was in a suit, grinning, his arm around her waist.

They were standing under a flower arch. A wedding.

Her smile. It was radiant, a genuine, unforced joy I hadn't seen on her face in years.

Not since before she became the "Country Queen."

Not with me.

The caption read: "She's finally mine, Walker. Where she always belonged."

My breath hitched.

So soon. She hadn't even waited.

The "dying" man looked remarkably healthy.

The pain was a fresh stab, sharp and deep.

I realized then that the lack of true joy in our marriage, the shadows I' d often seen in her eyes, it wasn' t the pressure of fame.

It was him. It had always been him.

A bitter laugh escaped me, raw and shaky. Tears pricked my eyes.

I didn't reply. I deleted the message, the picture.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

I started packing. Just a few clothes, my guitar, my notebooks.

The rest, the house, the furniture, the life we'd built – it was all hers. Tainted.

I called The Bluebird Cafe.

"Hey, Sarah, it's Liam. I won't be in today. Or any other day. I'm leaving Nashville."

"Liam! What? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just... time for a change. I'll work my last shift tonight if you need me to cover."

"Okay, Liam. We'll miss you."

One last shift. Then, freedom.

That evening, at The Bluebird, the usual crowd was in.

As I wiped down the counter, I heard a commotion near the entrance.

A familiar, boisterous laugh.

"Izzy Hayes just bought out the entire top floor of The Hermitage Hotel for her wedding party!" someone shouted.

My heart clenched.

Then, she walked in.

Izzy. Surrounded by her Nashville "friends," the Glitter Gulch posse.

They were all laughing, champagne flutes in hand.

"Darling, you look radiant!" one of them gushed. "Cody is a lucky man!"

Another chimed in, "Well, it's about time! We all knew you were crazy about him, even when you were with... what's-his-name."

A dismissive wave of her hand.

"She even had that little cabin out by Percy Priest Lake fixed up for their 'secret getaways' years ago," someone else whispered, not quite quietly enough.

"Remember how she used to sneak off, saying she needed 'inspiration'? Inspiration Cody, more like!"

They giggled.

Izzy just smiled, a secretive, satisfied look on her face.

"She always said Liam was just... convenient," one of them added, her voice dripping with condescension. "A good songwriter, but no fire, you know?"