His Promise, My Shattered World

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.

From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."

That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.

But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.

I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."

Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."

My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.

I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.

Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.

As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.

In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."

How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?

Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?

Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?

I would not be his victim.

Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.

I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.

This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.

Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

Chapter 1

The air in Austin always felt thick with music, especially when The Night Howlers played.

I was sixteen, and Jax Harding was twenty-two.

He was my older brother Ben' s best friend, the lead guitarist.

Charismatic, a little distant.

I had a massive crush on him.

It wasn't just a crush; it felt like my whole world tilted when he was near.

I baked cookies for their rehearsals, the ones with extra chocolate chips, just how Jax liked them.

I drew their early gig posters, my pencil strokes filled with a longing I didn't know how to name.

I knew every lyric to every song he' d ever written.

My eighteenth birthday.

I was a high school senior, my art school applications mailed, dreams of New York City buzzing in my head.

But that night, only Austin mattered, only The Continental Club where The Night Howlers were tearing up the stage.

Ben snuck me a sip of champagne backstage after their set.

It tasted like rebellion and courage.

Enough courage to find Jax, his dark hair damp with sweat, a half-smile playing on his lips as he talked to a roadie.

My heart hammered.

"Jax?"

He turned, that cool gaze landing on me.

"Hey, Savvy. Happy birthday, kid."

The words tumbled out, a clumsy, heartfelt rush. "I really like