When her eyes find mine across the chaos, they go wide with pure, radiant joy.
She runs—bare feet slapping against the concrete, not caring about the makeup or the sweat or the crew members diving out of her path—then launches herself into my arms like gravity is just a suggestion and physics doesn’t apply when it comes to the two of us finding each other.
“I’m disgusting,” she breathes against my ear, arms winding tight around my neck like she’s afraid I might evaporate. “Didn’t even shower. Wanted every second I could get with you.”
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. She smells like effort and industrial-strength hair spray and something indefinably sweet underneath. Like joy. Likecoming home.
Like falling in love.
“You smell perfect.”
Her laugh is throaty, exhausted, beautiful. It cracks something open in my chest that’s been sealed shut since she left. “Liar.”
“You smell like Lucy,” I murmur against her skin, feeling her pulse race under my lips. “That’s all I need.”
She pulls back to look at me, and I memorize every detail, the way her false eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the tiny beads of sweat at her hairline, the way her lips part slightly like she can’t quite catch her breath.
“Hi, beautiful.” I cup her face in both hands, thumbs tracing the sharp line of her cheekbones and her smile could power the whole arena.
“I can’t believe you’re here. I literally thought I was hallucinating when I saw you in the crowd. Like, front row? In full merch?” She tugs at the hem of my T-shirt, inspecting it like she doesn’t know what to make of it. “Since when do you own anything with Sandro’s abs on it?”
I glance down at the ridiculous thing—Sandro shirtless and screaming into a microphone like he thinks he’s the second coming of Freddie Mercury. “I figured if I was gonna risk permanent hearing damage, I might as well look the part. Plus, the teenage cashier told me it was ‘totally fire,’ and who am I to argue with youth culture?”
“You’re ridiculous.” Lucy’s eyes dance with mischief. “I could probably get that signed for you. Sandro’s ego would be all about it.”
“That would be great,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “As long as you’re the one signing it.”
Something shifts in her expression—surprise melting into something softer, deeper. She reaches up to trace the line of my jaw like she can’t not be touching me. “It was a good show, right? I mean, I know it’s not your scene, but?—”
“Lucy.” I catch her hand, bring it to my lips, kiss each knuckle. “It was spectacular. But—and don’t tell Sandro’s ego—I only had eyes for you.”
Her breath hitches, and she grins up at me like I hung the moon. That familiar gesture, that Lucy warmth that’s been missing from my world for weeks. I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own.
“I’ve really missed you,” she whispers, and my heart throbs with the echo of her yearning.
A blur of glitter and boundless energy skids to a stop beside us, nearly colliding with a rolling rack of costumes. The girl—seventeen, maybe eighteen, with enough sparkle to blind low-flying aircraft—bounces on her toes like she’s powered by adrenaline and enthusiasm.
“Yo, Lu! Heads up, load out’s flying. We got twenty minutes, tops, before the bus dips.” She flashes me a curious look. “Nice shirt, by the way. Very authentic fan energy.”
Lucy doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Thanks, Dani. Tell Aaron I might need a few more minutes.”
“Got it!” Dani zips away like a caffeinated pixie, leaving us in our little bubble of backstagechaos.
But the spell is broken. I can see it in Lucy’s face—the way her smile dims, the way her shoulders tense as reality crashes back in.
“If twenty minutes is all we get,” she says carefully, “then we better make them count.”
She studies my expression, those perceptive eyes reading me like an open book. “You look serious. More serious than ‘I flew to Arizona to surprise you’ serious.”
My heart pounds so hard I’m surprised she can’t hear it over the distant rumble of equipment being moved. “That’s because I came here to tell you something important.”
“Okay...” She takes a half-step back, and I immediately miss the warmth of her body against mine. “Should I be worried?”
I take a deep breath and say what I should have said weeks ago. “I don’t want you to go on this tour.”
She blinks. Tilts her head like a confused puppy. Opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I... what? Nash, I’ve been on the tour for weeks.”
“I know.” I rake a hand through my hair, aware I’m making a mess of this. “But that’s what I should have said when your agent called. That I didn’t want you to go. That I’d support whatever decision you made, but the truth is...” I take a shaky breath. “I’m not ready to live without you, Lucy. I don’t think I ever will be.”
