We find Lily and Enzo wrapped around each other; herface buried against his chest as he holds her tightly. Tears stream down her face, and her trembling hands clutch her duffle bag behind his back like it’s her last anchor to reality. Enzo’s hand moves gently up and down her back, his touch uncharacteristically tender.
For a moment, it feels like we’re intruding on something deeply private. A connection more intimate than anything I’ve witnessed between them before.
Enzo isn’t usually the type of guy to comfort someone. He’s the sarcastic one, the guy who deflects with a joke or a smirk. But here, with Lily in his arms, there’s a softness to him we rarely see, a glimpse of something raw and unguarded. It’s startling, and yet it feels completely right.
It reaffirms everything that I’ve been feeling since Harris dropped his bombshell. Lily belongs with us.
“You don’t have to go,” I say firmly, stepping up behind Enzo, my gaze locking with Lily’s.
She freezes, the duffle bag slipping from her grip and landing on the floor with a dull thud. Stepping back from Enzo, she looks at me, her eyes darting to the others who are now standing in a loose semicircle around her. Confusion and frustration flicker across her face, mingling with the tear stains on her cheeks.
“Harris said—” she begins, her voice trembling, but I cut her off before she can finish.
“Harris said you’re not employed by the label anymore,” I interrupt, moving closer. “But he didn’t say you couldn’t stay as our guest.”
Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “Guest? Marcus, what does that even mean? I can’t just?—”
“Then we figure it out,” I cut her off again, my tone leaving no room for argument. She doesn’t need to voiceall the reasons why this might not work. She just needs to believe that it will.
Jax steps up beside me, his voice steady. “Lily, you’re part of this band. You’ve been part of it since you stepped onto this bus, whether we knew it then or not. We’re not letting you walk away because the label decided to screw us over.”
Lily’s lip quivers, and she blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want to make things worse for you. If I stay, it might?—”
“We’re already in deep. We don’t have jobs anymore in a couple days,” Dylan interrupts, leaning against the doorway. “Might as well keep you around. You make it less miserable.”
Enzo snorts, his arms still crossed. “Yeah, and we’re not letting the label decide who’s part of this family and who isn’t.”
A shaky laugh escapes Lily. She looks at each of us, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re all insane,” she murmurs. “This could blow up in our faces.”
I step forward, taking her hand in mine. “It might. But we’ll handle it together. You’re not leaving, Lily.”
She stares at me, then flits her gaze over the rest of the band. Slowly, she nods, a small, hesitant smile breaking through. “Okay,” she whispers. “We’ll figure it out.”
The air feels lighter as the reality of the decision settles over us. It’s not a perfect solution. It doesn’t even begin to cover the issue of being dropped by the label, but it’s something. And for now, that’s enough.
Enzo claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, enough of this heartfelt crap. We’ve got a showto prepare for. If we’re being dropped by the label, we better be so good that we make them regret it. Let’s go.”
Lily laughs, wiping at her eyes, and despite the life-changing news from Harris, I feel a flicker of hope. Whatever comes next, we’re in it together. And that’s all that matters.
CHAPTER 40
A FINAL STAND
ENZO
By the timewe finally walk inside the venue, the usual pre-show rush hits full force. Roadies run back and forth, lights flicker onstage as they’re adjusted, and the faint hum of amps being tested fills the air. The crowd’s buzz grows louder, a wave of energy building behind the walls, and it sends a familiar thrill down my spine.
This is it. This is home.
I try not to dwell on the fact that this is the second to last time that I’ll get to experience this rush. The band’s uncertain future can be dealt with later.
The dressing room quickly devolves into its usual chaos. Dylan sits on the couch, tapping at his practice pad with no real pattern, cracking terrible jokes to lighten the mood. Jax sulks against a wall, and Lily watches everyone with wide eyes, finally ditching her clipboard, now that she’s unemployed.
Jax moves to sit across from me, bouncing his leg so hard it’s a wonder the couch hasn’t started shaking. He hasn’t said much since Harris left, but the determined glintin his eyes tells me tonight isn’t going to be like the last few shows.
This one matters—for him, for us. It’s our last stand. Well, second to last, but the sentiment’s the same.
“Let’s get ready,” Marcus eventually says, as he pushes himself up and heads toward the back wall to grab his gear. “We need to get to soundcheck soon.”
