His silhouette is sharp, familiar, and bathed in golden light.
The show starts, and he jumps right intoWyoming Flood. People sing and dance to it, but all I do is watch him.
As the song finishes, he lifts his head and looks out into the crowd.
And he sees me.
His eyes lock on mine and I swear, I see everything flash across his face in an instant. Shock, confusion, disbelief, and then… Hope.
A slow, stunned smile spreads across his face, like he can’t trust what his heart is telling him he sees. But then he moves. He hops down from the stage without a second thought, not caring about the chaos, the crowd, or the stunned security scrambling behind him. He crosses the barricade in long, determined strides, every step sure. Every step for me.
I rise to my feet, breath caught in my throat, the world spinning. And then he’s there.
“Darlin’,” he breathes, voice rough.
Before I can answer, his mouth crashes into mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s not polite. It’s raw, aching, desperate. It’s months of longing poured into a single kiss that tastes like salt, and sweat, and salvation.
The audience erupts into wild cheers, hoots and hollers echoing around us like fireworks. But I don’t hear any of it.
There’s only Sam.
His hands frame my face, holding me like he’s terrified I’ll disappear. His lips move against mine like he’s trying to breathe me back into his life.
Tears slip down my cheeks, and when we finally part, just enough to breathe, I whisper, “I missed you.”
He leans in again, pressing his forehead to mine, his eyes glassy. “Me too, Charlie. Me too. Every damn day.” His thumb catches a tear as it falls. “You came back to me.”
“I never stopped trying.”
His grin turns into something that makes my heart melt. “God, I love you.”
The crowd around us might still be roaring, but in this moment, we are the only two people in the world.
He pulls me into his arms, tucking me tight against his chest like he’s afraid someone might try to take me from him again. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the scent I’ve been dreaming of. Cedar, clean sweat, and something uniquely him. It hits me so hard I nearly collapse into him.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, the words brushing against the shell of my ear, barely a sound but enough to crack something open inside me.
“You didn’t,” I say, gripping the back of his shirt like alifeline. “I never stopped trying, Sam. I wrote to you. I didn’t know if you were getting them.”
He leans back, just enough to meet my eyes. “I didn’t.” His voice is tight, raw. “But if I had? Charlie, I would’ve dropped everything.”
“I was scared,” I whisper.
“So was I,” he says. “Every day I woke up wondering if you were gone forever. But you’re here now.”
Around us, the crowd is buzzing. Phone lights flashing, voices rising in waves but it’s all background noise. Sam tilts his head, kissing me again, slower this time. Tender. Like he’s sealing something sacred between us.
“Come on, darlin’.”
He takes my hand, leading me toward the stage.
“Sam,” I laugh. “I can’t go up there.”
“You can and you will. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
We take the stairs onto the stage and a stool is brought out for me. Once I’m situated, Sam goes to the microphone and speaks to the crowd while he straps on his guitar.
