“Fucking electric,” I agreed. “This might be the best show we’ve ever played.”
“Knock on wood,” Elly said, lifting her fisted hand and making a show of looking for a wooden surface.
I laughed at her and walked over to a small cooler filled with beer and water. I didn’t usually drink when we performed so the alcohol wouldn’t irritate my throat, but fuck it. Tonight, I was killing it on that stage, and a single beer wasn’t going to change that.
Mason collapsed on a torn-up leather couch, his dirty-blond hair sticking to his forehead. He pulled his plaid shirt open to reveal a white tank top drenched with sweat and chugged a bottle of water. “I think I sweated out about a thousand calories out there.”
I sat down by his side. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.”
“Shit, I think I dropped my phone onstage,” Liam said, looking around before walking back out on the darkened stage.
I pulled out my phone to check for messages. Molly’s name glowed on the screen.
“Own it, sis! Love you! Proud of you!”
I snorted to myself. Of course, my seventeen-year-old sister was telling me that she was proud of me.
Mason peeked over my shoulder. “How’s Mol doing? She excited to come to Northeastern with me?”
I nudged him away with my elbow. “She’s fine, and I’d encourage you to rethink the phrasing of that question. She’s not going therewithyou.”
He responded with an easy laugh. “Technically, I am going to be driving her there. That’s all I meant.”
“Sure,” I said, shaking my head. “And I remember just how eager you were to play driver when I asked. My sister isn’t one of those girls you like to pick up at pit parties, so you better watch yourself.”
A rosy tint appeared on Mason’s cheeks even as he rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, who do you take me for? Mol and I go way back. I’m just excited I’ll get to see her friendly face on campus.”
I nudged him again, harder this time. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m trusting you to keep an eye on her. You’ll be my eyes on the ground.”
He shrugged with a laugh and ruffled my curls that had grown even more voluminous in the heat of the venue. Before he could respond, Liam rushed back into the room, his face pale.
Something was wrong.
COLE
On the drive over to the venue, for the hundredth time in the past few weeks, I wondered if we’d made a mistake deciding to stick around River Valley after Charlie’s funeral. In my mind, it was the lesser of two evils. We could either remain in a place full of painful memories or admit defeat and say goodbye to our band. I wasn’t used to making these kinds of decisions, but at the time, I’d been the only one who would.
Ezra leaned his head against the window of the car, his eyes seemingly fixed on the blurry outline of trees on the side of the highway. These days, when I looked at him, I struggled to recognize my old friend. His smiles faded more quickly, as if he couldn’t quite hold on to whatever it was that made him laugh. My invitations to hang out sat unread and unanswered on his phone until all I could do was show up at his door. I expected this kind of behavior from Abel, but from Ezra…He turned, and his eyes met mine. I glanced away, unable to deal with the hollow emptiness I saw inside.
I’d seen that same emptiness in Charlie’s eyes sometimes, but it had disappeared whenever we came to River Valley. Despite being from Michigan, he had loved this place more than the rest of us combined. Loved might be the wrong word. He’d been obsessed with this town because of the significance it held for the band.
“This is where it all started,” he’d often say as we drove past the sign:Welcome to River Valley. Population 40,560.
Back then, I’d never thought that this might be the place where it all would end.
I think Charlie had felt like he’d missed out on something important by not being here at the beginning. Whenever we’d come back, he’d wanted us to show him all the spots we’d spent time in growing up. Where we first met. The place that inspired the name for the band. The bar where we first performed. To him, our memories were precious gems, and he’d been an avid collector. We knew he’d want to be buried here. In his death, he’d finally get his unspoken wish and become a part of Bleeding Moonlight’s history in River Valley.
“Fuck, I almost forgot this place existed,” Silas said from the front seat as the lit-up facade of the venue came into view.
The Barnyard.
It looked exactly as I remembered it. The current manager, Bryan, was an old acquaintance of mine and had invited us to see a local cover band.
“They’re good,” he’d promised over the phone when we’d spoken a few days ago. “They’ve really found their groove in the past year.”
I was desperate to do something fun with the guys to help us findourgroove once again, so I’d told him we’d be there.
