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The sound of birds chirping and the golden morning light streaming through the curtains stirred Morgan awake. His phone buzzed endlessly on the nightstand, dragging him into the reality he'd have to face after yesterday's statement. Presley lay beside him, her blonde hair tousled and soft against the pillow, one arm draped across his chest as she stirred.
With a sigh, Morgan reached for his phone, knowing what awaited him. The notifications were relentless—texts, comments, and messages lighting up his screen. He shook his head, scrolling through the barrage.
Presley rolled over, her blue eyes squinting as she looked up at him. "Is it bad?" she asked in a sleepy murmur.
Morgan let out a low chuckle. "Not as bad as I thought, but the internet sure has a lot to say." He showed her the phone, skimming the messages.
The first text was from Hardy:
Hardy: "You know the media's gonna twist this, but screw 'em. You did what you had to do. Proud of you, brother."
Morgan smiled. "Hardy's got my back."
Presley propped herself up on her elbow, watching as Morgan scrolled through more messages. "Let me guess, Ernest wants you in the studio already?"
Morgan smirked, reading aloud:
Ernest: "Bro, those paparazzi didn't know who they were messin' with. We'll hit the studio later, blow off some steam."
Presley laughed softly, shaking her head. "Called it."
Next up, a message from Lil Durk flashed on the screen:
Lil Durk: "Don't sweat it, fam. People always lookin' for drama. Just do you. You good?"
Morgan: "All good. Appreciate it, man."
A message from Moneybagg Yo wasn't far behind:
Moneybagg Yo: "They gotta learn not to mess with you. Next time holler at me, we'll scare 'em off without throwin' fists."
Presley laughed when Morgan read that one out loud. "He's not wrong," she teased, leaning back into the pillows.
Morgan smirked, scrolling down to see a new text from Luke Combs:
Luke Combs: "Handled that well, man. Paparazzi will always be there, but don't let them get under your skin. We should hit the lake soon—get some peace."
And of course, Post Malone chimed in with his usual laid-back vibe:
Post Malone: "Yo, don't let it eat at you. Let's grab a beer soon. Media blows over quick."
Morgan exhaled, feeling a little lighter. His friends had his back—no matter how messy things got, they understood. The wave of messages grounded him, reminding him that he wasn't facing this alone.
Then, a message from his mom, Lesli, popped up:
Lesli: "Morgan, I saw your post. You stood up for yourself, and I'm proud of you. Just remember to keep a cool head. Your dad and I love you, and we're here no matter what."
He felt a warmth in his chest, knowing his parents supported him. And just as he expected, a group text from his sisters followed:
Ashlyne, Mikaela, Lacey: "Morgan, we saw your post. Don't even worry about those people. You've always been tougher than all that mess. We love you! Presley too! Hang in there, big bro."