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From Nashville's Shadow to Austin's Spotlight

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 746    |    Released on: 13/06/2025

lur of streetlights an

ok on the st

elt like swal

led into the driveway, lights

ho

made for him

from my grandmother, a saf

boots loud on th

other' s Martin leaning ag

surprise, then his usual

e home

No shame.

long?" I asked,

d. "Whose

y important, very in-p

twitched

We were working on s

casually, like

t just shattered on

ted, hollow. "The one

d. "What are you

are lie to me. I saw you

a second, panic f

rs ago, when the muddy water of th

ut of nowhere, turning the

n, dragged me out just as

aved

d against a tree, water rising, for wha

erce, the confident

bic, anxiety-ridden m

because I lo

d my life. I owed him. I th

w was differ

n me?" he accused,

to see if you were okay,

said, deflecting. "She gets it. You just... y

it like a p

racked. "I gave up everything

let me forget i

g to my mother' s Martin. "You

a dismissive,

here. She liked it. It

k. The one you smashed my Fender over when you had one of you

ntered wood, my heartbroken te

ally. My anxiety...

With your therapist! In our house! With

was raw

up, his f

.. an inspiration. Something you

care of you, writing with you, for you, u

song... it' s the best th

. Proud of b

closer, his

y, so needy, I wouldn't need t

was so complet

almost doubted

ss, of her hand on his ar

liar, Jax.

hen his face h

t pressure me. She doesn't

as a cold, heavy

making excuses.

d, I was t

as th

just...

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From Nashville's Shadow to Austin's Spotlight
From Nashville's Shadow to Austin's Spotlight
“For seven years, I was Jackson Pierce' s shadow, his silent partner, his rock, burying my own guitar dreams to manage his fragile genius. Every industry event, every networking attempt, it was all for Jax, because his anxiety kept him prisoner in our quiet Nashville home. But one night, a casual check of our home security shattered my entire world. There, in our living room, was his "life coach," not on a video call, but in person, passionately kissing my husband. He was alive, animated, strumming my mother' s vintage Martin guitar, the one he' d always called "junk." The raw, aching melody filled the air, a song about his new muse, a passion he' d never shared with me. When I confronted him, he gaslighted me, accusing me of spying, claiming I stressed him out, that she understood his true creative soul. Then came the ultimate insult: he announced his therapist would be moving into my guest room, into my house, for "intensive therapeutic support." How could he be so brazen, so cold, so utterly devoid of shame, especially in a house bought with my grandmother' s money? Had all my sacrifice, all those years poured into him, just fueled a bottomless pit of his selfishness? "No," I told him, my voice finally steady, "she will not be staying here." "And I' m done." Sarah-Lynn Walker was finally walking away, not from him, but towards herself, ready to reclaim her own lost melody.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 8