Warmth hits my chest.Unexpected kindness.Exactly when I need it.“Thank you.”
Dean scoffs.“Oh great.Girl gang forming.Let’s just add it to the list of things this tour doesn’t need.”
Sadie gives him a dazzling smile that does not reach her eyes.“Careful, Ross.Some of us came here to observe.Not worship.”
He looks personally offended.I try very hard not to laugh.Maybe Iwillsurvive this tour after all.
We step into the area behind the stage we’ve been directed to, just as lights sweep across the crowd, thousands of screaming fans already swaying to the opening band.The scale of it bowls into me.Echoes.The tang of metal and dust.The loud hum of amps.Bodies moving everywhere, purposeful and loud.Too loud.
My pulse kicks up.I tell myself it’s excitement, not panic.Excitement sounds prettier.I cling to that thought for exactly three seconds.
Then all the lights slam on, flooding the arena in bright white, the warm-up band coming off the stage, a ripple of screams echoing from fans calling out for Devil’s Halo.The sound slices straight down my spine.
Breathe.Why can’t I breathe?Why does my chest feel like it shrunk?
Luc is halfway to the stage stairs, talking to someone.I try to focus on his voice; low, steady, familiar, but everything else swells instead.Light.Noise.Movement.Shadow.Too much space and nowhere to hide in it.
My throat goes tight.Fingers numb.Oh God.I grip the wall beside me like it’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.Breathe.It’s fine.You’re fine.You are absolutely-
“Hey.”A soft voice at my elbow.Sadie.She doesn’t crowd me.Doesn’t grab me.Just angles her body so she blocks the open space, dulling the chaos behind us by an inch.Her eyes flick over my face.Sharp.Knowing.Kind in a way that hits me behind the ribs.
“Breathe,” she murmurs.“I’ve got you.”
Air shudders out of me.I suck another in.She matches pace quietly, like she’s done this before; panic or stadiums or, maybe both.
My vision stops tunneling just in time for Luc to notice.His gaze snaps to me and something shifts in his posture, concern wrapped in heat with purpose and protectiveness.His feet move before the thought finishes.
He doesn’t ask what’s wrong.He just steps into my space, hand sliding to the back of my neck, thumb brushing the curve just below my ear.Warm.Solid.Human-sized in a world suddenly too big.
“Hey,” he crouches so he’s eye level with me, his voice low, steady enough to stand on.“You with me?”
I nod.A shaky, humiliating little thing, and his forehead touches mine for one heartbeat.And we take one breath together.Everything steadies.Like he flipped a switch inside me I didn’t know existed.
“You’re okay,” He assures me.“We do this together.No rush.No pressure.Just… be here with me.”
God, I could fall for him.I already am, in ways I don’t have names for yet.
Sadie backs up half a step, giving space but not distance.Like she’s anchoring me from the other side.A silentI’m not going anywhere either.And suddenly the arena doesn’t feel so big.Or I don’t feel so small.
Luc gives one last soft touch, his thumb brushing my jaw like a promise, just before the stage manager waves him over.
“I’ll be right there,” he murmurs.“If you need out, just look at me.”
I nod.I don’t trust my voice not to wobble.
He jogs up the stairs, and somehow the entire arena shifts around him, like gravity re-calibrates for him alone.Sound techs snap to attention.Lights adjust.And suddenly I’m watching not just Luc, but therockstarLuc that the world screams for.The man with a microphone and a pulse that commands stadiums.
My heart is a traitor.It’s proud.I breathe again.And then-
“What was that?”Dean’s voice slices in, sharp and incredulous as he peers at Sadie.He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed like he’s preparing to be offended by the world again.
Sadie lifts a brow.Calm.Unmovable.“It’s called empathy, Ross.Try it sometime.”
He scoffs.“He’s a rockstar.She’s with him.There’s gonna be noise, crowds, people breathing the same air.If she can’t handle it-”
Sadie's eyes narrow just a fraction, warmth gone, journalist steel sliding into place.
“If you finish that sentence, I’m going to write an entire paragraph about the fragile egos of lead guitarists.”
