Leaning down, I press a quick kiss to her forehead. Our audience erupts again, their energy surging, and I can’t help but smile as Lily grins up at me.
Turning back to the mic, I grip it tighter. "You’ve heard me sing my heart out before," I say, my voice steadier now. "But tonight, we’re starting fresh. Let’s make this one unforgettable."
The band launches into the opening chords of our first song, and the cheering becomes a deafening wave. As the music takes over, the anxiety that’s been gripping me loosens its hold. Lily brushes against my arm, then she waves out to everyone below as she walks off stage.
Marcus tears into the guitar riff, his fingers flying over the frets with precision, while Enzo’s bass line grounds us, pulsing through the floor. Dylan’s drumming is powerfuland steady, each beat syncing with the pounding of my heart.
I close my eyes, letting the lyrics pour out of me. Each word feels like a release, a step forward, and the voices from the audience rise to meet mine. It’s not just a performance. It’s a shared moment, an opportunity for salvation that is pulling me from the depths.
When I glance toward the side of the stage, I see Lily. Her hands are clasped in front of her, her expression glowing with pride. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I deserve to be here.
As the final notes of the song fade, the people in the venue, witnessing our redemption, explode into louder cheers than I thought possible. I stand there, breathless; the mic clutched tightly in my hand, and I feel it. A flicker of redemption.
The rest of the show blurs past. Each song fading into the next as we perform totally in sync as a band. And they eat it up.
Walking offstage afterwards with the noise of our performance fading behind me, I find Lily waiting. Her smile is wide, her eyes shining with pride. She steps forward, wrapping her arms around me, and I bury my face in her shoulder, letting her warmth steady me.
"You did it," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet emotion.
"Yeah," I reply, my voice cracking as I hold her tighter. "We did."
The rest of the band joins us, their grins infectious as they pat my back and clap me on the shoulder. Marcus smirks, his blue eyes glinting with approval. "Told you, man. We’re back."
Dylan chimes in, his tone teasing but warm. "Next time, let’s skip the heartfelt speech. I don’t think I can handle the emotional rollercoaster again."
Enzo just shakes his head, his smirk softening into something genuine. "Don’t let it go to your head, Jax. You’ve still got work to do."
I laugh, the sound breaking through the lingering heaviness in my chest. "Yeah," I say, glancing back toward the stage. "But for the first time, I think I’m ready for it."
With Lily by my side and the band surrounding me, I finally feel the first inklings of the fresh start everyone keeps talking about. We are doing this together. And I believe we’re going to be okay.
CHAPTER 33
MORNING LIGHT
LILY
The warmthof the bus surrounds me like a soft cocoon, the weight of the blankets wrapped snugly around me, adding to the sense of comfort. I blink awake slowly, my body achy in a way that brings a lazy smile to my lips, the memories of last night lingering like a pleasant haze. The show was a success and if winding down at the bus after a performance keeps going like it did last night, it will become my favorite new group bonding activity.
The gentle hum of the bus moving beneath me is calming as I shift slightly, my head resting on Marcus’s chest. His arm is draped over me, his steady breathing brushing against my hair.
I glance up at him, his face peaceful, his blond hair slightly mussed. His scent—a mix of cedar and something warm—soothes me further. I lay there a moment longer, unwilling to let go of the quiet calm of the moment.
Golden light filters through the windows, bathing the interior of the bus in soft hues. As I stretch carefully, tryingnot to disturb Marcus, I roll out of the bunk and pad into the main living area.
Dylan is sprawled across the couch, his mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge and twitching like he’s mid-dream. My eyes scan over him briefly, surprised he never made his way to his bunk last night.
But it’s Jax who draws my attention and keeps it. He’s already awake, sitting at the table across from me, his green eyes locked on mine. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a quiet depth that speaks louder than any words.
"Morning," I whisper, my voice soft, not wanting to disturb Dylan.
"Morning," he replies, his voice low and rough, carrying the weight of someone who has spent too much time thinking.
I study him—his dark hair falling into his eyes, the shadow of stubble lining his jaw. There’s a softness in his features this morning, a vulnerability that wasn’t always there. His eyes, though still carrying traces of exhaustion, have a light in them that wasn’t there before.
"I’m proud of you," I say quietly, letting the words linger between us.
A soft chuckle escapes him, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah, well… I still feel like a mess."
