Page 106 of The Sound Between Us

“It’s nothing that exciting. Just industry men being... well, industry men.”

She nods, understanding the code immediately. “Harrison Carter, right?”

I say nothing. My silence is confirmation enough.

“You don’t have to explain,” her tone is uncharacteristically soft. “But you look devastated.”

“That’s... not entirely inaccurate.”

The wine helps. Loosens something. Makes the truth feel slightly less sharp.

“I’m supposed to be flying to LA next week,” I say it casually. “Uncle Vinny’s set up studio time. With the same guy Elementary were recording with. He says it’s time I made something of myself, but of all the studios in LA he picked that one…?”

Hailey’s wine pauses mid-sip. “You think Uncle Vin is in on a Carter shaped ambush?”

The knot that’s been twisting in my stomach since I got back on home soil cranks tighter. “I don’t think he’d do that to me, would he?”

Hailey blinks and then shakes her head. “You’re his favourite. He’d do anything for you, even punch Carter in the face.” Briefly, her face folds before she smooths it away.

“So you’re going back? To LA?”

“It’s where the work is.”

“Right.” Her voice is unreadable. “And you’re ready for that?”

The silence stretches between us, the question settling deep.

“Maybe I need to prove I can be in that world and not fall apart. That I’m not just some girl Harrison... discarded.”

Hailey looks away, then says, almost carefully, “Men like Harrison... they collect women. Proof of status. Accessories.”

“You think that’s what I was to him?”

“I think you scared him. Because you weren’t playing a role.”

I don’t respond. Can’t. Because the thought is terrifying and possibly true.

“I’ve made choices,” she adds, so softly it’s almost lost. “Ones I thought were clever. Strategic. They weren’t.”

My phone buzzes on the coffee table. We both glance at it—Harrison Carter flashes on the screen before I quickly decline the call. My stomach drops.

“That’s the third time today,” I mutter, turning the phone face down.

Hailey’s expression shifts, something calculating flickering behind her eyes. “He’s been calling you?”

“I’m not answering.”

“Right. Of course.” But there’s something in her tone now, sharper. “And you’re still planning to go back to LA? Knowing he’s... trying to reach you?”

Suddenly this invitation, this perfectly timed concern, feels less accidental and more calculated.

“Hailey,” I say slowly. “Why did you really ask me here?”

She takes a long sip of wine, buying time. “Because you looked like you needed someone.”

“I needed someone, or you needed something?”

For a moment, the mask slips entirely. She looks younger, more uncertain. “Maybe both.”