Page 212 of Pieces of the Night


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A lifeline, small and mighty.

I give it a quick kiss, then reattach it to my belt.

The lights are waiting, but I already feel like I’m home.

As we take the stage, I glance around at the screaming, moving audience. The electric guitar is a welcome weight in my hands, the energy more therapy than drug.

I inhale a long breath.

The kind that fills your chest all the way.

The kind that actually sticks.

I glance at Annie standing beside me, her hands curled around the microphone like it’s a secondary lover. She looks calm, but I know better. I can see the pulse in her neck, the way her shoulders rise just a little too high with each breath.

Still, there’s fire in her eyes. Stage fire.

Our gazes lock for half a second, long enough to say,“We’re here. We made it. Let’s go.”

Tag strums a few warm-up chords behind us. Rock flips a drumstick. Kenna gives us a wave from the side of the stage, foot in a boot but smiling anyway.

I squeeze the neck of my guitar. Annie mouths the first line of the set under her breath, our newest song, written in crinkled notebooks and on hotel napkins as we bounced across Europe.

It’s called “No Maps.”

The lights dim.

The crowd roars.

And together, we step into the noise.

See the world and sing along

Shake hands with kings and vagabonds

Walk the roads where empires fell

Hear the stories books don’t tell

The lights hit, and it feels like stepping into the sun, the crowd below us a living thing.

Every chord hums through my bones, and for a moment, I forget.

Forget the pain, the pills, the quiet way Annie looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching.

Up here, it’s just sound and skin and sweat.

The buzz of the amp. The beat of the kick drum in my chest.

My fingers fly. My voice holds.

Sip the wine of stolen thrones

Trace the cracks in ancient stones

The lights streak across my vision, but I keep my eyes open. Every note I play hits like a muscle memory I don’t remember learning. The crowd is howling back at us, louder than the amp behind me.

But all I can focus on is the sweat trickling down my spine and the slight twitch in my left hand.