He wanted to argue. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t that simple, that the stage had teeth, that the spotlight could burn, and that he’d spent six years running from this exact moment for very good reasons.
But before he could form the words, the tent flap rustled and Sara slipped inside.
Everything else faded away.
She was wearing a soft blue dress that swirled around her knees, her hair pulled away from her neck so that his latest mating bite was clearly visible. Her cheeks were flushed from the spring evening warmth, her green eyes bright with excitement and just a touch of concern.
She smelled like vanilla and sugar and home.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, just for him. “Adrian, could you give us a minute?”
“Already gone.” The werewolf slipped past her with a knowing grin, disappearing through the tent flap and leaving them alone.
He didn’t remember crossing the space between them. One moment he was standing by the equipment cases, the next hehad her pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like she might disappear if he let go.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered into her hair.
“Yes, you can.”
“My hands won’t stop shaking.”
“That’s just adrenaline. It’ll pass.”
“What if it doesn’t? What if I get out there and completely freeze up? What if I embarrass myself in front of the entire town?” He pulled back enough to meet her eyes, letting her see the fear he’d been trying to hide. “What if I disappoint you?”
Her expression softened. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands—those warm, steady hands that had learned exactly how to touch him, exactly where he needed pressure and where he needed gentleness.
“Benjamin Holloway,” she said firmly. “You could forget every word, trip over your own feet, and set the stage on fire, and you still wouldn’t disappoint me. I’m not here because I expect you to be perfect. I’m here because I love watching you do something that makes you happy.”
His breath caught. “Sara…”
“You’ve been singing to me for weeks. On the porch, in the kitchen, in bed when you think I’m asleep.” Her thumbs traced gentle circles on his cheeks. “Every time, you come alive in a way that breaks my heart a little. Because I know you’ve been denying yourself this for years, and I know how much it costs you to hold that part of yourself back.”
“It’s not safe. The way I was before?—”
“You’re not who you were before. You’ve grown. You’ve changed. You’ve built something real here, something that matters.” She rose up on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Trust yourself. I do.”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. This woman who’d walked into his life with a plate of brownies and a smile, who’d refused to be intimidated by his grumpiness, who’d seen through every wall he’d built and loved what she found underneath.
She believed in him.
Maybe it was time he believed in himself.
“One set,” he said.
“One set.” She smiled, that brilliant smile that always made his heart do strange things. “And then you can come find me in the crowd and tell me all about how amazing it felt.”
“Or how terrible.”
“It won’t be terrible.” She kissed him again, longer this time. “Now go. You’re on in five minutes, and I need to find a good spot to watch my male rock this festival.”
My male.
The words settled into his chest, warm and sure and exactly right.
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and walked towards the stage.
The roar hit him like a wave.
