Chapter 3

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Gone.

My home. The porch where I learned to play guitar. The bedroom where I wrote the songs that brought me to her. Leveled. Turned to dirt and dust.

"She told me she was fighting for it," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "She said it was our future. A place to escape to when Nashville got to be too much."

"I' m sorry, Liam," Shane said, his voice thick with regret. "I should have told you sooner. I just... I didn' t know how."

He had been against it from the start, me letting Cassidy handle my personal affairs. But I' d trusted her. Implicitly. I' d handed her the keys to my past, and she' d sold it for scrap.

I closed my eyes, but the image of the farmhouse was burned into my mind. I didn' t say another word for the rest of the drive. I just let the pain wash over me, a cold, deadening tide.

Even though I knew what I' d find, I had to see it. We pulled off the main road onto the familiar dirt track. But instead of my family' s old white farmhouse, there was just a vast, empty field of churned-up mud, littered with the debris of construction.

Meanwhile, in a multi-million dollar Aspen cabin, Cassidy was pouring Cal Rivers another glass of champagne.

"The numbers are incredible," Cal said, scrolling through his phone. "The post has over a million likes. Everyone is talking about us."

"That' s the point, Caleb," Cassidy said, her voice smooth as silk. "We' re creating a narrative. You' re the new king, and I' m the queen who crowned you."

"What about Liam?" Cal asked, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "He' s been quiet. Too quiet."

Cassidy waved a dismissive hand. "Liam is emotional. He' ll sulk for a few days, write a few sad songs, and then he' ll come crawling back. He always does. He can' t function without me."

Cal smiled, leaning in closer. "I wrote a new chorus this morning. Inspired by... all this."

He hummed a few bars of a catchy, upbeat melody. Cassidy listened, a professional, appraising look on her face. For a fleeting moment, as Cal sang about finding his muse in the mountains, her smile tightened. A ghost of a memory-another boy, another song, written on a dusty farmhouse porch years ago.

She pushed it away. That was the past. Cal was the future.

I got out of Shane' s truck and walked toward the rubble. The air was crisp and clean, so different from the city smog. It smelled like home, even if home was no longer there.

A car pulled up behind us. A woman got out.

"Liam?"

I turned. It took me a second to place her.

"Harper? Harper Grace?"

It was my childhood friend. We' d grown up on neighboring farms. I hadn' t seen her in years. She was a real estate agent now, sharp and professional in a tailored blazer, but her eyes were the same-warm and kind.

"I saw Shane' s truck," she said, her expression softening with sympathy. "I' m so sorry, Liam. This whole thing was a raw deal."

She was here surveying the land for a client interested in the new development. She told me how the state had strong-armed all the local families, but that the payout Cassidy accepted was criminally low. "She didn' t even negotiate. It was like she wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible."

We stood there for a long time, talking about the old days, the shared memories that now lay buried under the mud. Her pragmatic anger on my behalf was a strange comfort.

Then, a flash.

From the trees at the edge of the property. Another flash.

A local paparazzo, probably tipped off by someone in town that a "Nashville star" was back. He' d gotten his shot.

Me, looking heartbroken. Harper, her hand on my arm in a gesture of comfort. The perfect picture to spin a new story.

By the time we got back in the truck, my phone was buzzing again. A new TMZ alert.

"Liam O' Connell Moves On With Hometown Flame Amidst Cassidy Vance Drama."