Nothing but himself.
And Mike’s gentle influence guided him now, kept him sane in an insane world. Gave him hope and reason, and stepped in with gentle wisdom when needed.
About damn time he let the man know how much he meant to Killian.
Which was why he brought them full circle. There would be no sold-out shows, no world tours, no interviews, or anything to do with the current version of Trickster at all if it hadn’t been for a day not so very long ago when he’d met that tall, cool drink of water Texan on this very stage.
The memories made his heart ache, how he’d dismissed what he’d considered a mere hookup, called him Texas instead of his name, and planned to fuck and forget him.
The same man who now stood next to him, giving him strength and the will to live again. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a Trickster T-shirt, worn cowboy hat on his head, “Tex” inspired the same lust he had two years ago.
No, not the same. Even more. Every smile, every caress, proved more addictive than the last.
“I believe you said it was like an orgasm on stage.” And it had been, back to back with Mike, pouring out his soul and pain.
Cutting out the darkness for the light to shine through.
Killian tore his attention away from Mike long enough to fire the opening riff of the song he once vowed to never play again. So familiar, so right. He sang the first verse, alone, his gravelly voice lending the song a melancholy air. Mike joined him on the chorus, their voices blending—like their lives. Two lonely men found each other, made a life together.
One he planned to last forever.
Who cared what the gossip sites said about the imminent breakup they claimed every single week? As long as Killy and Mike knew the truth, how rock solid they were and always would be, no one else mattered.
But time was ticking away, and he needed to accomplish his goal before he lost the chance.
After the second verse, he stopped playing and held up a hand. This was it, the moment he’d waited for.
Mike turned to him, brow scrunched. “Is something wrong?”
No, nothing wrong. Something terribly right, though. Or so Killian hoped.
Mike’s eyes widened when Killy shoved his guitar over his shoulder and sank to one knee, the guitar strings bonging. His heart pounded in his chest. This could go so, so wrong. He’d staked his whole being on this moment. Fear twisted his insides.
God, could he be any sappier? Somewhere up in Heaven, or wherever souls went, Elliot must be laughing his ass off.
At least there were only the two of them, and not a couple thousand people who’d flood social media with recorded cellphone footage in a few minutes.
This could turn out to be the best moment of his life—or the worst, if Mike rejected him.
For years Killian had been uncertain about so many things without even knowing. Laughing at other people’s idea of romance and love. He’d never believed in either—until now.
And Trickster fans had stuck with him no matter what, still filled seats at concerts, still bought his music.
Believed in him.
He no longer had his mother and brother to stand with him, just his fans and his band, and somewhere, a father. His family now.
And Mike. Or so he hoped. In this club in the middle of nowhere their love began. They began.
He’d asked for Mike’s trust, now came time to return the favor, put himself all in.
Opening his heart, he sang alone, with the bare whisper of guitar strings touched only by his voice.
“I thought I was fine
Didn’t need anyone
Could make my own way
