By the time we reach the last verse, I’m not just singing—I’m flying.
The song ends, and the bar erupts into cheers.
Chloe throws an arm around my shoulders and grins at me like I’ve just wonBritain’s Got Talent. “Still got it, Faith.”
I glance towards the bar again.
Hayden’s leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, that unreadable expression on his face. But I see the flicker of pride. A smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
I feel taller somehow. Brighter and alive.
I step down from the little stage, heart pounding in my chest for a whole new reason now. I make my way towards him, cheeks flushed—not just from singing, but from being noticed.
“You were amazing up there.” His smile makes my knees weak.
“Thank you.” I glance down with flushed cheeks, but he curls his finger under my chin, lifting my gaze back to his. I hold my breath, wishing he’d kiss me. He’s close enough that I can smell a hint of his drink on his breath, the musky scent of his aftershave and leather.
“I mean it, Faith. That was incredible. You have a talent.”
My chest tightens at his words. I want to believe him. But more than that—I want to believe in myself again too. And maybe, with him near… I will.
“I always knew you could sing, but I didn’t know you could sing like that,” he says after a beat.
“I used to. Before… everything.”
“Well, you still can.” His hands warm my cheeks. “Don’t let anyone dim that light again.”
Heather slides another WKD Blue bottle across the bar. “We’re looking for a singer for a Tuesday night slot if you’re interested.”
“You’d pay me to sing?”
“It’s up to Draven. He has the final say, but I don’t see why not.” She gives me a warm smile as she collects some empty glasses and, for the first time, I feel like I could actually do this.
Just as I reach for the bottle, a voice pipes up from somewhere to the left.
“Hey, sweet cheeks, we’ve got room here for a pretty face with pipes like that,” someone says in a slurred voice.
I glance over my shoulder and see a guy in a leather cut I don’t recognise.
Before I can answer—or even react—Hayden is between us.
“Back off, Reg,” he says, calm but deadly. One arm slides around my waist. “She’s not available. For singing or anything else.”
Reg lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, man. Just paying her a compliment.”
Draven stares at Hayden from behind the bar, then back at Reg, giving him a nod that says get the hell out of here before Wrath rips your throat out.
Hayden doesn’t budge. “Keep your compliments to yourself. Or you’ll be drinking through a straw for the rest of the year.”
“You know you should mark her if she’s your property.” Reg slinks away without another word.
Hayden turns to me, his expression softening. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nod, grabbing my drink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he says. “But I wanted to.”
“Good luck with your results tomorrow, Faith,” Yaz shouts as I walk through the back door.
