Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,59

I will feel the euphoria of the game again. I work through hell every day to reach toward a goal that’s more than worth the pain. What must it be like to work through hell for nothing? To fight toward a future you don’t want and maintain a universe that’s crushing you? That’s Genevieve’s fight. She battles through rehab every day of her life with no hope of ever fixing what’s broken.

“Oliver?”

God, she breaks my heart. Doesn’t she see how much she needs a breakaway? To just let herself fall?

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be Genevieve Fox anymore.”

CHAPTER 12

She holds the trigger with reverent bliss

Caressing the end of her

the death of her

the test of her

Until through the mist

Of endless tears

Insincere years

She presses down to expose

Not a blast

But a path

GENEVIEVE

I said it. Uttering that monumental truth should have triggered apocalyptic fires and discordant trumpet blasts, but if anything, I just feel relieved. And Oliver? Smiles. Yep, he’s actually smiling when I look up into those warm brown eyes.

“Why do you look happy?” I ask, suspiciously.

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m not happy. Just smiling.”

“Smiling means you’re happy. You want your new girlfriend to be the disgrace of the century?”

He huffs a dry laugh. “Disgrace of the century? Seems a bit extreme.”

“I just said I don’t want to be Genevieve Fox.”

“Yeah, you were finally honest with yourself. And I’m smiling because you’re smiling.”

I still in his arms. Test my lips. Oh my gosh. I am. My smile widens. “I shouldn’t be smiling. This is catastrophic.”

He shrugs. “Is it? Let’s go upstairs and see how many newborn kittens died and nuclear bombs detonated because you decided you’d rather not sing some stuff anymore.”

I snort a laugh and swat his chest. “Yeah? And is that how you felt when you realized your knee was busted and you were about to lose everything?”

His smile falters. “No, but I lost something I loved. Something I wanted more than anything and had worked my entire life to achieve. What are you losing, Genevieve?”

“Something I’m not sure I ever wanted,” I breathe without thinking. More truth. Oliver seems to draw it from me like poison from a venomous bite. Is that how healing works? The first step over the cliff to the ground. Decide you’re ready to fall. “I feel so strange. Terrified, and yet free.”

His smile returns. “That sounds about right. You decided you want to jump. Now we just figure out how.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I mutter.

“As easy as working my way back through a major injury? We’re both on the same journey, Genevieve. The difference is I’m taking the pain for something I want. After the fall, you’re going to face a shitstorm of a climb. Wouldn’t you rather it be for a prize that’s worth it? What’s at the top of the mountain for you? What makes you happy, Gen?”

This moment.

That smile.

Those eyes.

“You.” I glance up into his beautiful, strong face. He smiles back, and I trace his lips, still in disbelief he came into my life when I needed him most. Or is he the reason my long-brewing battle has finally come into focus? It can’t be a coincidence that Oliver met a girl afraid of mirrors and now sits beside a girl prepared to blow up her life for something better. While smiling.

“Good. What else?”

I think back to my studio this morning, the flutter in my stomach at the thought of meeting Joel again in a few hours to finish recording.

“My own music.”

Oliver looks downright smug when that slips out. I think he enjoyed hearing it as much as I enjoyed saying it. And I did. It made me more than happy. It made me feel free. Whole. Like a badass who could face an entire damn wall of mirrors if she wanted to.

“Speaking of… what are you doing tonight? Want to get a taste of my world?” I ask.

“First we’re going to record the lead vocal,” Joel explains to Oliver, handing him a set of studio headphones. My heart skips watching his awed expression as he takes the extra seat near the console. I love that I get to impress him for once. Joel adjusts his own headphones and runs a test clip of the track from the computer. Oliver’s eyes widen as his gaze shoots to me.

“Oh, shit. That’s you?” he says, louder than necessary because of the music blasting in his ears. Music I can’t hear since I’m the only one not with headphones at the moment. Mine are