“We’re never gonna get this night back,” he says, smile crooked. “It’s not about the first sellout, or the first time the crowd screamed so loud it drowned out everything else. It’s not about whatever happens next—the interviews, the fame, the money, the bullshit—it’s just this. Remember it. This night. Right here, right now.”
The limo hums with silence for a moment, heavier than before.
Then Tag knocks his beer against Zach’s boot with a grin. “Cheers to that, philosopher bass boy.”
We all laugh. Too loud, too hard. Because we’re terrified and exhilarated and moments away from walking into another show that will catapult us forward.
The joint passes around the limo. Chase takes a drag, painting the space between us with smoky tendrils that look like silver ghosts.
When it’s my turn, I choke. Cough until my lungs cave in. Everyone laughs again as Kenna steals it away and tips her head back with a contented sigh.
My brother reaches behind her. Squeezes my shoulder.
We share a look. A teary-eyed smile.
“I love you,” I mouth to him.
He ruffles my hair in reply, causing me to squeal in frustration, because that shit took an hour of mirror time to style. I shoo his hand away as the conversation drones on and we relive the long nights in a beat-up van that morphed into high-class hotels, thousands of adoring fans, and music that resonates. That means something.
It’s only a ten-minute ride to the venue, but it feels like a lifetime.
It’s perfect.
Magic.
Family.
It’s a moment I’ll remember forever.
Chapter 44Chase
I’m so fucking high.
On the music, the lights, the fans, the strings beneath my fingers. I told Annie I was feeling better. It was a lie. But fuck if I’m going to ruin this just because there’s a semi plowing through my brain, day in and day out.
I push it aside. Drown it out with riffs that set the room on fire, raw and desperate and bigger than the pain. The crowd surges with every note, a living, breathing thing that feeds off the energy we’re bleeding out under the lights.
I’m a ghost in the static, a fire in the rain
Echoes in the dark still whisper out your name
Rock hammers the drums so hard the floor vibrates. Zach’s bass thrums deep in my chest. Tag’s guitar cuts through the air, sharp and clean.
And Annie…
Her voice rises like smoke and silver, spinning through the room, threading through the chaos, anchoring me to the stage when everything else tilts.
I stalk the edge of the platform, dragging the mic stand with me, grinning down at the sea of faces. They reach for us like we’re gods. Like we’re salvation.
I’m soaked in sweat, half delirious, veins pounding with sound.
And for ninety glorious minutes, nothing hurts.
Not my head.
Not my heart.
Not the fucking war raging inside me.
