I had some help

Twenty-five

The crowd erupted into applause, but Morgan remained rooted to the spot. He watched as Michael hugged Alex, pride and camaraderie evident on his face.

Alex glanced out into the audience, her eyes finding Bailey. The connection between them was undeniable, and it made Morgan realize just how much had changed.

As the applause died down and the stage lights dimmed, Morgan slipped away from the sidelines. He needed to process what he had just heard and figure out where he stood in this new reality where Alex was moving forward without him.

Morgan had three more songs before his turn on stage. He retreated to his dressing room, the weight of the previous performance pressing heavily on him. As he changed, he poured himself a shot, hoping to numb the ache.

All he could think about was one of the times he drunk called her from California.

The clock on Morgan's bedside table read 12:57 a.m., its soft green glow barely illuminating the dark room. Empty beer cans and an almost empty bottle of whiskey were strewn across his dresser. He lay sprawled on his bed, the room spinning slightly as he reached for his phone.

Morgan stared at the screen, Alex's name highlighted in his contacts. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button. The alcohol had dulled his better judgment, and the longing he felt for her became overwhelming. With a sigh, he pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear, listening to the ring.

"Pick up, pick up." He muttered to himself, his voice slurred and desperate. When the ringing stopped, and the line connected, he could hear her groggy voice on the other end.

"Hello?" Alex's voice was soft but laced with confusion.

Morgan struggled to find his words, his mind clouded by the alcohol. "Alex... it's me." He finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Morgan?" Her voice sharpened with surprise and worry. "It's three in the morning. Are you okay?"

Morgan swallowed hard, his throat dry and aching. "I don't know." He admitted, his voice cracking. "I just... I can't stop thinking about you."

There was a heavy silence on the other end, and Morgan could almost see her taking a deep breath. "Morgan, we've talked about this. You can't keep calling me like this, especially when you're drunk."

"I know." He replied, a lump forming in his throat. "But I miss you, Alex. I miss us."

He heard her sigh, the sound filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "You told me you were leaving for 'The Voice' an hour before your flight to California, Morgan. You didn't give me a choice. You just left."

Morgan winced at the memory. He remembered the look of shock and betrayal on her face when he told her, and how he felt a gnawing regret as he boarded the plane. "I know I messed up." He said, his voice breaking. "I thought it was my big break, but I didn't think about what I was leaving behind."

"That's the problem, Morgan." Alex said quietly. "You didn't think. And now we're both hurting."

Morgan closed his eyes, feeling the sting of her words. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I was scared. I thought if I told you earlier, you'd try to talk me out of it, and I wasn't strong enough to resist."

"And now?" She asked, her voice softer but still edged with pain.

"And now... I just want you back." He confessed. "I want to fix things, I want to drive to Tennessee by myself and make things right. I want to hold you, wrap you in my arms and stay like that forever. I need you Alex."