He steps up to the mic, adjusting the strap of his guitar, and the room explodes with cheers.
“Thank y’all for coming out tonight,” he says, voice like gravel and velvet. “This tour’s special to me.”
He pauses, soaking it in.
“As the name suggests, it’s my last one. So I figured, what better way to go out than by playing songs from the new album.”
More cheers. Screams. Someone yells, “We love you, Sam!”
He grins, but it’s fleeting. Like his heart’s somewhere else.
“The first song I’m gonna play is for the girl who saved me before she even knew she did. This one’s calledWyoming Flood.”
My lungs forget how to work. Tish grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, her nails digging into my skin.
“Oh my god, Charlotte,” she whispers.
The opening chords ripple through the air, low and mournful.
And I cry.
Because it’s our story. Word for word. Memory for memory. The cold, the rain, the bridge, the way he held me like I was the only thing tethering him to the earth. It’s all there, wrapped in melody.
His eyes drift across the crowd, scanning faces. Searching.
I sit straighter, willing him to look. To see me. But the lights on stage are bright. I’m in the third row, and he looks right over me.
He doesn’t see me.
When the song ends, the crowd erupts, and Sam just nods. His jaw is tight.
“This next one’s calledMakin’ Babies in the Barn,” he says, with the ghost of a smile.
Laughter ripples through the room. My heart flinches. If only they knew how literal that title really was.
Song after song, he pours his soul into the room. Each one cracks me open more. They’re love songs. All of them. Honest, aching declarations. A record made from longing and regret and the kind of love that haunts a man. That haunts me.
And then, the lights dim again.
He clears his throat, fingers drifting across the strings.
“This last one. It’s the hardest one I’ve ever written,” he says softly. “It’s calledCharlie.”
The breath rushes from my lungs.
The theater falls silent.
And he sings.
My name on his lips is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. The lyrics are soft, like a prayer whispered in the dark. About a lover who vanishes, leaving him broken. But it’s also full of hope. And love. So much love.
The sob escapes me before I can stop it. Silent, guttural, impossible to hold back. My hands cover my mouth, but the tears fall freely.
Because now I know. He never forgot me.
Every word he sings is proof. Every note is a piece of his soul offered up on stage.
He still loves me.
