“Mikey, that won’t be necessary,” I assure him, and smile. “One can only take so much Dean brooding. I need you to keep things balanced.”
He sits. Closes his mouth. Darts his gaze back and forth between Dean and me, then turns his attention to Hayden. “Guess you’re my new wingman.”
“Dream on, kid,” Hayden declares, shaking his head. Everyone laughs. And just like that, the tension is gone, and suddenly, everything feels easy. Right.
Lily beams across the table. “I’m happy for you both.” Luc wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Same.” Larkin bangs her spoon and squeals approval.
I swear my heart could burst. Dean nudges my foot under the table and I glance at him. He looks grounded. Peaceful. More open than I’ve ever seen him. And I realize, this isn’t just him choosing me, this is him choosing us. Choosing to stand beside me in the light instead of the shadows.
Everyone falls into conversation again; Lily telling a story about Larkin trying to eat a sock, Marie scolding Mikey for holding the baby too loosely, Cherry nudging Hayden about ordering dessert.
I sit back, letting the sounds wash over me. Dean leans in, voice just for me. “It feels good, right?”
“What?” I ask softly.
“Not hiding.” My chest pulls tight, full of something I haven’t let myself feel in a long, long time.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It really does.”
He brushes his fingers against mine under the table, warm, sure, steady. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like we’re running or hiding from something. It feels like we’re building something. Together.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dean
All The Small Things
Blink 182
Boston feels different now. Maybe it’s because we aren’t a secret anymore. Maybe it’s the way the city hums like it’s always in a hurry to become history, or the way the air tastes like salt and old stone even when you’re blocks from the water. Maybe it’s because the crowd tonight isn’t just loud; they’re sharp. Like they came to be fed. We give it to them.
The lights melt into heat. The stage shakes under my boots. The first chord hits and thirty-thousand people become one body, one roar, one pulse. I lose myself in it the way I always do, hands moving on muscle memory, brain going quiet, the world narrowing down to sound and timing and the stretch of a note held just long enough to hurt. Except it doesn’t go fully quiet anymore. Not since her.
I catch her at stage right before the second chorus even lands. Sadie low by the monitors, camera up, hair pulled back, face lit by her screen. She’s focused, mouth set in concentration, the kind of calm that makes everything around her feel less chaotic without even trying.
She doesn’t look like she’s bracing for impact anymore.
Neither do I.
That should scare the shit out of me.
It doesn’t.
It feels… clean.
When the set ends, the band clears the stage in a blur of sweat and adrenaline. Mikey is grinning like a menace, tossing a stick into the air and catching it like he’s fourteen and invincible. Hayden’s face is calm, but his eyes are bright. He likes to pretends the crowd doesn’t affect him, but it does. Luc walks off last like he owns the night and doesn’t have to prove it.
Backstage hits us like a wall. The temperature changes. The noise changes. People move with purpose; the crew calling cues, someone shoving water bottles into hands, cases rolling, radios barking.
I take a breath and the air tastes like metal and fog machine and the tail end of my own adrenaline. Then I feel it. That pressure in my chest that has nothing to do with the show. I scan the corridor without thinking and find her.
Sadie’s already moving, weaving between techs and cables like she’s part of the infrastructure. She’s got her camera in one hand, her bag slung over her shoulder, posture straight. No hesitation. No apology for taking up space.
She looks up at the same second I do. Our eyes catch. There’s a spark, but it’s not dangerous anymore. It’s recognition.
She gives me the smallest nod, like a check-in. Like she’s asking without words: You good? I nod back. And I realize something so simple it almost knocks me off my feet. I don’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff anymore. I feel like I’m standing on solid ground.
The green room is chaos in the way it always is. There are people laughing too loud, someone doing shots like it’s still college, somebody yelling that the catering ran out of the good chips. It used to work on me. The noise. The distraction. The easy version of being untouchable. Tonight, it feels thin. Like costume jewelry.
