And me.
He steps up to the mic, the stage lights burning gold across his skin. “Before we start,” his voice rumbles low, raw, “I wanna dedicate this song to my wife.”
My heart stutters.
Wife.
The crowd erupts—cheers, screams, flashes of light—but all I can do is stand there, hand pressed to my chest, feeling everything all at once.
Trey’s gaze stays locked on mine, his voice steady but thick with emotion.
“She came into my life when I didn’t know what peace was,” he says softly, every word wrapping around me. “She remindedme that love doesn’t have to save you—it can change you. It makes you want to fight for it. It makes youwantto be a better person.”
He pauses, running a hand through his hair, smiling faintly. “So, this one’s for her. For the girl who taught me how to breathe again.”
The band slides into the opening chords, the sound swelling and shattering through the space between us. Trey turns slightly toward the mic, his voice cutting through the noise—raspy, beautiful, completely his.
I close my eyes and let it all wash over me.
Because this—this moment—is everything.
The first notes ripple through the crowd, soft and haunting, like the whisper of a prayer.
The lights dim until it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to one voice, one man standing in the glow of gold and silver.
Trey’s voice cuts through the air—low and raw, like he’s bleeding every word straight from his soul.
I was hollow before you,
just noise and smoke and flame,
but then you whispered my name,
and suddenly, I burned for something real.
All I can think as he sings is how much I love him.
How every note is a heartbeat, every lyric a piece of the life we’ve built from ashes and faith.
The crowd is wild—phones raised, flashes like falling stars across the dark. But to me, it feels intimate. Private. Like every word is for me and me alone.
Mac squeezes my hand, whispering something—but I don’t hear her. I can’t.
Because I can’t look away.
He sings like he’s confessing, like the music itself might tear him apart if he holds back. His veins stand out along his neck, his lashes low, his lips brushing against the mic like its heresy to let the words go.
I feel it.
Every note, every ache, every heartbeat.
You pulled me from the fire,
showed me there was more than pain,
now every breath I take, every song I make,
is just in your name.
