Always the Baker

Chapter 14

14

B rax

I sat on the edge of my bed with Billie’s letter clutched in my hands. My eyes scanned the words for what felt like the hundredth time, each read-through making my heart ache a little more.

“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand over my face.

I felt like I might have screwed things up between us. A part of me knew my reaction was my ego and residual hurt from the Amalia situation. Had it not been for her, I probably wouldn’t have reacted to Billie the way I did. Yeah, Billie lied, but the lies were explainable and not personally concerning me. I valued honesty and transparency, so I still would have been angered by it, but I would have had more clarity and the ability to communicate better if it wasn’t for dealing with superficial women or women who used me.

Billie’s words were raw, honest. No fancy prose or attempts to impress me, just her truth laid bare on the page. I could practically hear her voice, that slight breathy twang creeping in when she got emotional.

“I know I’m just some small-town girl,” she’d written, “and you’re a famous star. But for a moment there, I thought maybe we had something real.”

My chest tightened and I sighed. I was exhausted from another late-night studio session. My phone buzzed. Probably my manager with more demands. But the notification caught my eye. It was an email from Billie.

My heart raced as I clicked it open. Her words spilled across the screen:

Brax, I’m sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you or cause drama. The truth is, I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I was falling in love with you. Being with you made me feel alive in a way I never have before. I know I messed up, but I hope someday you can forgive me. I haven’t heard from you. Hope you got the letter. Are you even in The Hills? Probably not. If you did and you don’t want to hear from me, just let me know.

I read it three times, letting it sink in. This was the real Billie. This was the girl I’d fallen for. I’d been so quick to write her off and assume the worst. But her letter painted a different picture, and it gave me the space to process the truth without interrupting her or listening to respond instead of listening to comprehend.

I opened my laptop, figuring I’d distract myself with some mindless scrolling. But there it was, a post from the local arts council back in Billie’s hometown. They were featuring a new mural, and the image stopped me instantly.

It was breathtaking—a sprawling landscape that seemed to pulse with life and color. Rolling hills gave way to a vibrant cityscape, bridging country and city in perfect harmony. I chuckled when I saw what looked like half of my face with black paint over it. That led me to believe Billie had done this, but that couldn’t have been the case. Maybe it was my ego making me see things that weren’t there. I zoomed in on the bottom right of the picture.

And there in the corner was Billie’s signature.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help but laugh because I sounded like her. “Lil baby actually did it.”

I zoomed in, taking in every detail. The passion behind each brushstroke was obvious. This wasn’t just some tourist trap painting; this was Billie’s heart and soul on display. She’d combined her town and the city. Was that her way of combining her reality with her dream? Her present with her future? Maybe I was reaching… but I couldn’t let it go.

My chest tightened as I remembered our conversations about her dreams. How her eyes lit up talking about colors and compositions. The way she’d sketched ideas on napkins, full of excitement.

I couldn’t believe I almost let her slip away.

I grabbed my phone, ready to call her right then, but I hesitated. This wasn’t a conversation for 2:00 AM. And maybe showing up in person would mean more…

I tossed and turned all night. My mind raced with thoughts of Billie and her mural. By morning, I’d made up my mind. I was going to see her, face-to-face.

The drive to Jasper Lane felt endless. I cranked up the radio, but even my own songs couldn’t drown out the nervous energy buzzing through me. What if she didn’t want to see me? What if I was too late?

As I pulled into the quaint main street, my heart started pounding. I spotted the sign for her parents’ print shop and took a deep breath. The town was so small there was literally just one. This was it.

I pushed open the door, and a little bell jingled overhead. The office was cozy, nothing like the sleek studios I was used to. A few heads turned my way, eyes widening in recognition.

And there she was. Billie. Her braids were pulled up in a messy bun, and there was a pencil stuck behind her ear. She was bent over a desk, completely focused on whatever she was sketching.

“Uh, hi. I’m looking for my swe—for Billie Hopkins.”

Her head snapped up. Those dark eyes I’d been dreaming about went wide with shock. The pencil clattered to the floor.

“Brax?” she whispered, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “What are you doing here?”

I tried for a casual smile, but my heart was doing backflips. It was crazy how happy I always was to see this damn girl. “I saw your mural online. It’s incredible, sweetheart. I had to come see it in person.”

The office had gone dead silent with everyone staring at us. Billie’s cheeks lifted as she smiled.

“Maybe we could talk somewhere more private?” I suggested.

Billie nodded, still looking dazed. “Yeah, um, let me just grab my coat.”

As she fumbled with her things, I caught whispers from the people that looked to be waiting for orders.

“Is that really Brax Adams?”

“What’s he doing here?”

I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. But then Billie was there, looking up at me with a mix of confusion and hope that made my chest ache.

“Ready?”

She nodded, and as we stepped out into the sunlight, I knew this was exactly where I needed to be.

Billie stood there, eyes wide and searching. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to process my sudden appearance.

“I, uh…” It was adorable watching her struggle with what to say, and I had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

“Billie, I’m here for the real version of you. Just you. No lies, no games. I want to understand everything and get to know you.”

She blinked rapidly, her shoulders tensing. “Brax, I…”

“Please,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I read your letter and the email. I saw your mural. Regardless of why you did what you did, I want to know you.”

“You read it?” she whispered.

I nodded, feeling my heart race. “Every word.”

She bit her lip, and I could see the internal struggle playing out on her face. Part of me wanted to just wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay, that she was mine, but I knew we needed this moment of truth first.

“Okay,” Billie said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where do you want to start?”

“How about we take a walk? Some fresh air might do us both good.”

Billie nodded as relief washed over her face. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

The small town streets were quiet compared to the bustle of the cities I was used to. As we walked side by side, I could feel the tension crackling between us like static electricity. Every accidental brush of our arms sent a jolt through my system. Damn, I missed her.

“So, where is this mural?”

Billie’s eyes lit up with a hint of her usual spark returning. “Oh! Yeah, it’s just around the corner. I can show you if you want.”

I smiled, genuinely curious. “Lead the way.”

As we rounded the corner, I saw it—a massive, colorful mural spanning the entire side of an old brick building. My jaw dropped. “Wow, Hopkins. This is incredible.”

She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. It’s, um, kind of my heart on display, you know?”

I stepped closer, taking in the intricate details.

“Tell me about it,” I urged softly.

Billie took a deep breath.

“Well, see those swirling patterns there?” She pointed to a section of vibrant blues and greens. “That represents my small town roots, always grounding me. And those bursts of color shooting upwards? That’s my dreams, my ambitions.”

I nodded, captivated by both the art and the artist beside me.

“The cityscape in the background,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “that’s the world I’ve always wanted to be a part of. But see how it’s slightly out of focus? That’s because…”

She trailed off, biting her lip again. I turned to face her fully, waiting.

“Because I’m not sure if I truly belong there,” Billie finished quietly, her eyes meeting mine.

I felt a lump form in my throat. Here was Billie, laying her soul bare through her art, and I was floored by her raw honesty. The vulnerability in her eyes, the passion in her voice as she explained her work, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Billie, this is, you’re incredible. The way you’ve captured all of that emotion, all of those dreams, it’s powerful stuff.”

“Thank you.” Her bashful expression made me step closer.

“I think I finally get how you feel about my music. Your art makes me feel the same way.”

She smiled softly with a hint of pride shining through her uncertainty. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, turning back to the mural. “And for what it’s worth, I think you belong anywhere you want to be. City, small town, doesn’t matter. Your talent shines through no matter where you are.”

We stood there in silence for a moment. The weight of everything unsaid hung between us. I snuck a glance at Billie, noticing how the setting sun caught the brown and blonde highlights in her braids, how her eyes seemed to sparkle as she gazed at her creation.

Suddenly, it hit me. My feelings for her hadn’t changed one bit. If anything, seeing this side of her, the artist, the dreamer, only made me fall harder.

Billie must have sensed my stare because she turned to me. “Brax? What are you thinking?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m thinking I was a damn fool for ever letting you go. But being here, seeing your work, seeing you, it’s made me realize something.”

She raised an eyebrow. There was a mix of curiosity and caution in her expression. “Oh? And what’s that?”

I took a deep breath. “That I want to try again. With you. If you’ll let me.”

Billie’s eyes widened, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Brax, I’d…”

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask,” I interrupted, words falling out faster than I could control. “But I can’t help thinking about what we could be if we just gave it another shot. No misunderstandings, no assumptions. Just us.”

She bit her lip, considering. “And how would that work exactly? You’re still you and I’m still me. We’re in two different worlds. You got a mic that you take around the world while I’m juggling a paint brush and whisk. I mean, you won’t even let me finish my sentences. How are we going to communicate if you won’t let me get my words out?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her stressed expression that was completely my fault. “Yeah, sorry. I just… don’t want you to say you’ve changed your mind about me. As for the rest, we’ll figure it out. Together. If you want to, that is.”

Billie was quiet for a moment, and I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest. Finally, she looked up at me with a small smile lifting her lips.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”

I grinned, feeling like I could fly. “Yeah?”

She nodded as her smile grew. “Yeah. But this time, no running away when things get tough, alright?”

“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand. “Wassup? I’m Brax Adams. Nice to meet you.”

Billie laughed, and the sound warmed me from the inside out. She took my hand, her grip firm and sure. “Billie Hopkins. The pleasure’s all mine.”

Our connected hands led to connected lips. Connected lips led to connected centers. It was risky becoming one with her against her mural, but I couldn’t resist. I tried to be as gentle with her as I could be since her back was against brick. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I picked her up and bounced her against me.

Quiet moans and whimpers from us both combined as we fought to stay silent. Her eyes rolled and back arched as her body quaked from her orgasm. I came seconds after, spilling my seeds into her.

“I love you, Billie,” I confessed as I panted.

She cupped my cheeks and stared into my eyes with tears in hers. “I love you too, Brax.” A giggle escaped her as she hugged my neck. “I love you too.”

Back at her apartment, I put soft kisses against the welts on her back. Regardless of how many times she told me she was okay, I felt horrible. If anything, I should have been the one with scratches on my back—not her. Still, a smile was on her beautiful face after we freshened up from our impromptu sex session.

I offered to chill at her place until she got off work, but she insisted it was okay for me to go back with her. Hand in hand, we left her apartment, and I resisted the urge to mention how comfortable, confident, and relaxed she was. I hoped my random visit showed her there was no part of her life or lifestyle that she needed to be ashamed of.