I remember how I felt when she was here, how the music softened the edges of the world. And softened my edges as well.

My phone is still logged into her account. I never signed out because I couldn’t bring myself to. It made us too… over. Like closing the last door between us.

I scroll, finding her favorite playlist. The one I listened to countless times because she played the thing nonstop.

I’m about to tap it, needing to hear something familiar, when another playlist jumps out at me. My heart stumbles.

Missing Big Guy. Created one week ago––a full fortnight after she told me she met someone else, was moving on, and I should do the same.

I stare at the list, blinking hard, as though I could be imagining things. But there it is in her account––a whole list of songs dedicated to the playlist Missing Big Guy.

I hit play. The first few notes of song one drift through the room, soft and slow. It’s too much… and still not enough.

I close my eyes, let it wrap around me. Her playlist. Her pain. Because if this is about me, she’s not okay either.

I’m not sure what this means. But it isn’t random.

And there’s one person who might help me make sense of it.

She’s always had a sixth sense about people—especially Magnolia. She recognized the shift between us before we understood what was happening. If anyone can hear past the noise and help me find the truth buried in this music, it’s Laurelyn.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my keys. I don’t bother changing clothes or fixing my hair. I just drive, the weight of the music still sitting in my chest like an anchor.

By the time I reach the McLachlan house, the sun is dipping low behind the trees, casting the vineyard in a rich amber glow. I spot Jack stepping off the ATV, his boots thick with dirt, khaki work pants creased and stained from a long day tending his grapes. His button-down hangs loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dust smudging the fabric. He yanks off his wide-brimmed hat, revealing hair flattened and crimped from sweat.

He wipes a hand down his shirt before clocking me. “This is an unexpected surprise. Everything all right?”

I nod even though it’s a lie. “Yeah. I’ve come to see Laurelyn. I have questions for her.”

His laid-back tone shifts into something quieter. “You okay, mate?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just I need her take on something. Woman stuff, I guess you’d say.”

“You mean Magnolia stuff.” There’s no judgment. Just understanding.

“Am I that easy to read?”

He jerks his head toward the side of the house. “You’ve come to the right place. L’s working in the studio.”

I follow him around back, gravel crunching beneath our feet.