Benny Everhart was never supposed to go solo.
At 35, she's a seasoned musician with a voice that once defined a generation-alongside the four childhood friends she grew up with in Maine. United by their passion for music, they were discovered in 201...
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Benny's POV
The cabin felt colder on the way back.
Same plush leather seats. Same soft overhead lights. Same espresso pillows on the cream couch. But this time? It felt hollow. Like all the air had shifted.
I was in the same damn spot I'd been flying into London. Hoodie on. Hat low. But my knee wouldn't stop bouncing, and I kept checking my phone even though I already knew exactly what was on it.
That post.
That photo.
That kiss.
Still burned behind my eyes like I hadn't been trying for months to build something solid with Madison. Still playing like a loop I couldn't stop. Her face in the dark. His hand on her waist. Her lips on his.
And me? I was the one sitting on a plane full of people who loved me, trying not to crack my phone in half.
Fallon had clocked the shift in me before we even boarded. Didn't say anything—just dropped into the seat across from me and handed me a Red Bull without a word. Amelia was quieter than usual. Damon looked like he was waiting for me to say something first. Bowie had his headphones on, but even he kept sneaking glances.
We were an hour into the flight before anyone spoke.
"Yo," Amelia finally said, shifting in her seat beside me. "Can I just ask... what the fuck was that?"
I didn't say anything. Just stared at the ceiling like maybe if I looked hard enough, it'd give me an answer.
Amelia let out a breath. "I mean, seriously. She really thought you were cheating? And instead of talking to you, she gets pissed and goes out with Zach fucking Bia?"
Her voice cracked on his name. It was the angriest I'd heard her in a while.
"She was insecure," I said, jaw tight. "She saw me out with Ariana and assumed the worst."
Fallon snorted. "Even if you were flirting—which you weren't—what kind of twisted math makes 'possibly jealous' equal 'tongue my ex in a club'?"
I finally sat up, ran a hand down my face. "I don't know. I really don't. But she didn't ask. She didn't even text. Just radio silence and then... that."
Amelia shook her head, biting her thumbnail. "She spiraled. Classic Madison defense mode. Get ahead of the hurt by doing something reckless first."
Damon leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. "Benny, I hate to say it... but I'm not surprised."
