And for the rest of the set, with the whole town watching and cheering and singing along… I don’t let go.
Not once.
And from the corner of my eye, I see Caleb notice.
And Boone.
And I pretend I don’t see either of them stiffen again.
Because this is Delaney’s moment.
And whether the other two realize it or not…
We’re all already orbiting her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Delaney
Roman doesn’t just hug,he ambushes.
One second, I’m standing in the middle of the market square, still reeling from the surprise of Wild Reverie casually popping up on stage, and the next…
“Laney!”
A blur of leather jacket, chains, and turbulent frontman energy slams into me.
My feet leave the ground. I squeak as Roman spins me in a tight circle, his laugh hot against my ear while I cling to his shoulders and try not to burst into tears like a kid who just dropped her ice cream.
“You’re here,” he says, squeezing me so tight my ribs creak. “And alive. And not in jail. Ten out of ten. I need details. All of them.”
“Put me down,” I wheeze.
“No, I’m never putting you down.”
Ezra appears at Roman’s elbow like a calm, exasperated ghost. “Ro. Let the woman breathe.”
Roman reluctantly sets me back on my feet but keeps his hands on my arms, as if he thinks I’ll evaporate if he lets go. Ezrasteps in and folds me into a hug that’s the exact opposite—quiet, grounding, sure.
“Hey, Del,” he murmurs.
Cedar and coffee and warmth. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until right now.
“Missed you,” I croak against his shoulder.
He squeezes once. “We missed you more.”
Creed barrels in next, sunglasses on despite the shade from the tents. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our favorite culinary arsonist.”
“I didn’t burn anything,” I protest.
“Yet,” he laughs. “The day is young, chef.”
And then…
“Delaney Rivers.”
Sloane hits me like a glitter bomb. Arms around my neck, lilac hair in my face, perfume and sugar.
