Despite the initial positive reaction to my social media posts, a few more negative elements had managed to make their voices heard as well. I was disappointed when some of my favorite punk bands acted like I had sold out, as if I’d switched to singing Americana as a cash grab.
The rock idol I’d met in Mexico City, however, posted that I’d proved punk lyrics could hold up against any other genre and he’d be at my next tour. That, along with Sawyer’s and my friends’ encouragement, had given me the push to keep going.
This venue had made me more nervous than even the final shows in Europe. Unlike those concerts, tonight’s set list contained a lot of songs no one had heard before.
We’d started off with acoustic versions of a couple of old favorites, which the crowd loudly sang back to us. Punk fans in black chain mail and soccer moms who enjoyed my new, more chill vibe seemed to get along just fine right next to the guys in cowboy boots. When we played our newer songs, the crowd moved with the music, pumping us up with a loud, enthusiastic response every single time.
As the last notes rang out, I chuckled. What a life. How things had changed when I’d opened myself up to being loved by the man who’d been there for me all along. I hopped down off the stage and into Sawyer’s arms.
Fans had quickly picked up on the fact that I had, in addition to leaving behind my vocal cord shredding ways, somehow managed to snag a serious boyfriend. My fans knew that I wasn’t straight, and most of them were thrilled that I had fallen in love.
Even better was the growing number of “Sawyer’s boys” who eagerly posted, calling him Daddy, whenever he was photographed standing stoically behind me in one of his immaculate suits. Sawyer acted like he was horrified, but I knew an ego stroke when I saw one.
I got in a quick kiss and ass squeeze with Sawyer before I was surrounded by fans. I spent an hour with them, speaking witheveryone who approached, happily taking selfies and signing autographs.
When most everyone had cleared out, I spotted a man standing awkwardly by the stage and made my way over. My hand went to my chest when I recognized him. He was my rideshare driver from Mexico City. “Tez?” I asked, shocked. “Is that you?”
“It is me. I’m so happy to see you feeling better,” he said, tentative at first.
I gave him a huge hug. “Man, what a great surprise! Did you just come up for this show?”
He flushed. “Sí, sí. My wife”—he gestured to a tiny, plump lady with dark hair that fell to her waist—“and I wanted to thank you for your very generous tip. It… it changed our lives,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Suddenly, I was locked in a hug between the two of them.
Once I’d gotten my feet under me at the cabin, I’d pulled up my history on the rideshare app. Not only had I found his name, but I’d also made use of the tipping option. I was glad I’d been able to make a difference.
Sawyer strolled over. “Everything okay here?”
“Tez is the driver who made sure I got to the airport in Mexico City safely,” I explained.
“I tried to tell him to stay,” Tez said. “I say we should go back to the hospital, but no. He was stubborn.”
Sawyer laughed and surprised Tez with a hug of his own. “Thank you so much for taking good care of him.”
The Lost Boys, who wouldn’t have missed tonight for the world, had been hanging out waiting for us to be ready to leave. They welcomed Tez and his wife, who were invited to join us at Sago and Robbie’s for a house party.
Their place was a typical Texas historic home: a freshly painted white clapboard two story with old wooden floors, crystal doorknobs, and modern amenities that had been added long after the original building had been put up. They’d worked with a local architectural firm and the Texas Historical Commission to upgrade the spaces to make them more livable.
The moment I’d walked into their home for the first time, I’d understood exactly how they fit together. Sago and Robbie were opposites—maybe not as extreme as me and Sawyer—but they made it work because they loved each other’s differences.
I still liked to tease my man, but I cringed whenever I thought back to how I’d treated him at the beginning when he’d put his life on hold to care for me. He’d shown me that true partners didn’t just put up with differences, they celebrated them.
He certainly celebrated me.
All of us enjoyed Texas barbecue together, drank, danced, and sang into the night. Sago, Robbie, and I also showed our friends some songs that weren’t quite ready for the public.
I ended the night dancing with Sawyer, my head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around me.
“I love you,” I said, humming into his chest. “I would have never guessed that this was possible, not in a million years. But now I can’t imagine life without you.”
“Me either, my love,” he responded, kissing my temple. “And I can’t wait to see where we go next.”
epilogue
Sawyer
Sometime after construction began in earnest on my house, I had the panicked thought that Holden might not appreciate what I was trying to do in taking back the property that had been the scene of his attack. So I brought him and Beckett in on my plans. Holden, who’d done a lot of healing, was incredibly supportive. Touched, even.
While most of the construction was planned so as to conserve the existing trees and natural spaces, I had the backyard pool built on the site where Chase DeWitt and his cronies had beaten the shit out of our kind, sweet friend.
