The stadium explodes.
The sound is enormous, shaking the air, but it feels far away.
None of it touches us.
I only pull back when my lungs start to burn. My forehead rests against his, noses brushing, both of us breathing hard like we just ran a mile straight into each other.
His eyes are dark and bright all at once.
Mine are definitely wrecked.
Tears cling to my lashes, but I’m smiling so wide my face aches. It feels unguarded. Unrehearsed. Like the smile I forgot how to wear.
“Welcome back,” I whisper.
Cam huffs a breath that sounds like a man finally exhaling after holding it for far too long. His forehead presses more firmly to mine, his mouth brushing mine once more, brief and reverent.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Good to be here.”
The crowd keeps roaring, but for the first time in a long time, the noise doesn’t feel like something I have to survive.
It feels like something that can’t touch us.
Because we chose each other.
Chapter thirty-eight
Cam
The roar hasn’t finished cresting when she steps back to the mic.
Lila wipes at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Quick. Almost embarrassed. Like crying in front of forty thousand people wasn’t on the schedule.
“And now,” she says, the whole stadium leans forward, “for the show.”
The crowd explodes.
Sound slams into the walls. Into the ceiling. Into my ribs. I stay just offstage, half-hidden by curtains and cables, my heart still out there with her.
And then she sings.
The first note is strong. Clean. Muscle memory kicking in. The pop star persona sliding into place.
But I can see through it now.
I see her.
Real. Raw. Lit from the inside out by everything that just happened between us.
She moves across the stage like she belongs to the light. Like it knows her. The sequins catch and scatter, turning her into something unreal, but her voice is human. Warm. Vulnerable in the soft places she's not used to letting anyone hear.
Even distracted and cracked open because of me—she owns the stage.
Completely.
She glances toward the wings.
Toward me.
