Now I’m seeing it for what it was.
More importantly, I’m finally living what it wasn’t.
Thankfully, Tag veers the conversation in a different direction, filling our parents in on tour life, after parties, and Chase’s guitar deal. I zone out for a few minutes, thumbing through my phone. Through Instagram. My eyes scan Alex’s latest photo, a panoramic view of the ocean. Empty beach. Setting sun. His feet buried in the sand.
The caption reads,Healing isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s sitting still.
Compassion trickles through me.
I’m happy for him. Maybe he’s finally finding his peace.
I give the photo a “like” and tuck my phone away.
An hour slips by, and we say good night to our parents, planning to meet for an early breakfast before hitting the road. With Christmas around the corner, we promise another visit soon. I wrap each of them in a long hug, eyes misting as I watch them head in the opposite direction.
I turn to follow Tag as he walks me back to my room. “That was amazing,” I tell him, folding my arms across my chest. “Thank you for arranging that. I needed it. A piece of home.”
“Figured the surprise was worth it.” Hands in his pockets, he bumps me with his shoulder as we stroll down a long hallway. “How are you holding up? Finally sleeping?”
“Yeah.” I nod brightly. “Things are good. Really good.”
“You look better. Got some of your color back.” He pinches my cheek.
Grinning, I smack his hand away. “I have a lot to be thankful for,” I say, my heart full. I glance sideways, catching the smile that’s barely left his face since our first video blew up. “I’m so proud of you, Tag. Watching your dreams come true is the best part.”
“It’sourdream. A team effort.”
“I know. But I just keep flashing back to you sitting on your couch that night, years ago, looking so defeated, wondering how much longer you couldkeep doing this. The struggle, the grind, the uphill climb with no end in sight.”
Tag goes quiet beside me. His jaw shifts, like he’s trying to decide whether to speak or let it pass. “I remember,” he says finally, voice low. “I was close to walking away for good. Didn’t even tell you that part.”
“You didn’t have to. I saw it.”
The silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable, just full. Full of all the things we survived.
“You were the one who kept saying it would happen,” he murmurs, looking at me, his eyes glassy. “When I didn’t believe it anymore, you still did. You always did.”
I blink against the sudden sting. “Because I knew you weren’t done yet.”
He nods, smiling softly.
We approach my hotel room, pausing just outside the door.
Tag turns to me. “I’m glad you found your voice again,” he says, the words steeped in emotion. “You kept writing. Singing. Pushed yourself when it would’ve been easier to hide. And now look at you…out here chasing the things that always mattered, building something real.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s too much lodged in my chest. Gratitude. Relief. That dizzying mix of finally finding my way.
“I’m proud of you too, Annalise,” he finishes. “You’ve been brave as hell.”
With watery eyes, I lean in and hug him, clutching hard, drinking in the scent of safety and home. “I love you.”
“Love you too, sis. Get some sleep.”
I pull back, swiping a tear away. “You too. We have a long drive ahead.”
“I got some shit to help me wind down. I’ll be out like a light.”
“What shit?”
