Cody grinned at him. “Even if you do say so yourself?”
Reid shrugged unapologetically. He crossed the room and placed a hand on Cody’s Shoulder.
“I’ll be right there. You won’t be alone for a single second.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
* * *
The evening arrived with the kind of charged energy that reminded Cody of the moments before a concert, the hum of anticipation that lived in the air just before the lights went down.
Cody’s suit was midnight blue, perfectly tailored, with a subtle silver thread running through it. Diane had insisted on it, saying it would be perfect for him and she’d been right. Cody looked good in it. He looked like someone who belonged here.
Reid wore a dark suit that managed to look formal and elegant yet vaguely threatening. He’d refused to wear a tie. Garrett had laughed about it for ten minutes.
“Ready?” Reid asked, standing by the hotel room door.
Cody looked at his reflection one more time. The man staring back was different from the one who’d fled Nashville months ago. Stronger. Calmer. Still scared, but no longer drowning in it.
“I’m ready.”
The red carpet was a wall of sound and light. Photographers shouted his name. Reporters called questions. Cody smiled, posed, gave brief answers that Diane had pre-approved. Reid stayed just off-camera, close enough to touch, his presence a solid anchor in the chaos.
Inside the venue, the energy shifted from frenetic to electric. The auditorium was packed. Cody spotted a lot of familiar faces, colleagues who waved and called out. He shook hands, accepted congratulations on the nomination, and tried to ignore the constant scan of the room his brain was performing, searching every face for the face of the man from his concerts that he had committed to memory.
Their seats were close to the stage, third row center. Reid sat beside him, one hand resting on Cody’s knee under the table.
“Breathe,” Reid murmured.
“I am breathing.”
“No, you’re performing breathing. You need to actually breathe.”
Cody huffed a laugh and forced his shoulders to drop. The bond between them pulsed warm and steady, and Cody leaned into it, letting Reid’s calm flow through him.
The ceremony began. Awards were given, performances played, speeches made. Cody clapped and smiled and tried to stay present instead of disappearing into the anxiety that kept whispering what if, what if, what if.
When the presenter announced the Artist of the Year category, Cody’s heart slammed into his throat.
“And the winner is—Cody Brennan.”
The room erupted. Cody sat frozen for a half second before Reid’s hand squeezed his knee.
“Congratulations!” Reid said, beaming at him.
Cody shook his head incredulously. He stood, legs shaking and walked to the stage on autopilot. He accepted the award, gripped the podium.
“Wow,” he said, “This is…wow.” The audience laughed. “I’m, uh—I wrote a speech. I had a whole thing planned just in case. But standing up here right now, all I can think about is how many times I almost quit this year. How many nights I thought about walking away from all of this, and how now, I’m so grateful that I didn’t.”
The room went quiet.
“This year has been one of the hardest of my life. But it also brought me something I hadn’t even known I was looking for.” He glanced in Reid’s direction, and his mouth stretched into awarm smile. “It brought me a home and a partner I can rely on to be there for me when times get tough.
“So, I want to dedicate this award to him and to also say thank you to everyone who helped to get where I am today, including my manager, Diane, and everyone at my record label, and lastly to all my fans who have supported me by buying my records and showing up at my concerts. Thank you all.”
The applause was thunderous. Cody stepped off the stage, clutching the award, and made his way back through the crowd. People stopped him to shake his hand, to hug him. He smiled through all of it, but his eyes were looking for Reid.
