And just when I thought they were finally falling silent, it revved up again. I watched as Stetson made his way to his feet, handing his guitar off and taking the microphone in his hand. He walked toward the end of the stage that jutted out into the audience and squatted down. His arms rested on his thighs, his hands clasped together in front of him as his head dropped low.
I couldn’t see his eyes—no one could because of his hat—but I still knew exactly what they looked like. Little blue spheres of light beaming with pride and yet still humbled by all of it.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Everyone already knew.
He’d poured his heart out on that stage with that song and those lyrics. Everyone could feel it, but based on the fact that I was practically floating from the butterflies flapping incessantly inside of me, I had a feeling that I felt it deeper than most. It was a moment I wanted to snap a picture of, store it in the albums of my brain that I could flip through whenever I wanted.
My tears from earlier rebuilt momentum and this time I let them trickle over.
The song had ended minutes ago and yet the crowd was showing no signs of stopping.
It was hard to put into words what it felt like watching him in his element, watching him bask in something that I believed he never thought would come. But I did know that this man was so deserving of this moment and all the moments to come from this album. His vulnerability and bravery to share this side of himself with millions of people was inspiring and made me proud to know him.
He shook his head as he popped up, placing the microphone to his lips. “You all don’t know what this means to me. There were so many times I almost didn’t write this song, let alone this whole damn album, but thankfully I’ve had a few good people in my corner through this process who have pushed me to keep going.” Again, he turned to grasp my attention, making the fulfillment that filled my insides almost burst out of me. “And based on your response, I’m sure as hell glad I did.”
It took everything in me not to run out on that stage and hug that man so hard, but this was his moment, and he deserved to let himself enjoy it.
Stetson stood, gazing out at the crowd. “Thank you. I can’t wait for you to hear the rest. Have a good night and get home safe.”
He rotated around before jogging off the stage and straight to me. “They loved it,” he said, wrapping me into a big hug andpulling me from the ground. His body was warm and wet from his sweat-soaked skin.
“I knew they would. There was never a doubt in my mind,” I insisted. “You were incredible out there. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. How could they not love it?”
“It felt so good.” Excitement beamed through him. “It felt like the words I was singing were words I actually believed. Like for the first time, everyone was getting to see who I was and what I really looked like on the inside without the smoke and bullshit.” His breath slowed a bit from the adrenaline as he put me back down on the ground. His thumb landed lightly under my chin. “Thank you, Scarlett.”
“Why are you thanking me? You did all of this.” I shook my head, finding it hard to accept his gratitude.
“No. You pushed me. Challenged me to not give in when Mark desperately wanted me to. And you showed me that sometimes the right choice is the hardest one, but it can also be the most rewarding.”
His mouth was salty as his lips connected with mine, but I didn’t care. I would’ve kissed that man any chance I got.
“Uncle Stetson!” a voice screeched from backstage.
We were always getting interrupted, but this time, I approved.
“Ruby. My girl. What did you think of the show?” Stetson gently pulled back from me before wrapping Ruby in a hug of her own.
“Gross. You’re sweaty.” She laughed, pushing him off her. “Uncle Stetson, you were so good. I can’t believe I got to be front row.”
Seeing Ruby up close, the sadness seemed more obvious. Her low-lit eyes turned the brown in them almost black, her true smile seemed like it hadn’t seen the light of day in months, and her shoulders concaved forward, making her appear smaller than she really was.
It was heartbreaking.
“We couldn’t have you sittin’ anywhere else, not at your first Stetson Walker concert.” He smiled as he tugged me closer by my belt loop. “Ruby, this is Scarlett Carson. A very, very good friend of mine.”
“Hi, Ruby. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” I said, extending my hand to her. “Your uncle Stetson has told me a lot about you.”
I couldn’t help but want to inspect every single characteristic of hers. To study her and try to figure out what I could do to fix her, make her a little less broken, because no thirteen-year-old should have to endure what she had. And then there was the innate sensation to want to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
“Hi, Scarlett. He’s also told me a lot about you. Which isveryunlike Uncle Stetson.” Ruby quirked an eyebrow at him.
He motioned his head back and forth, grinning at us. “She isn’t wrong.”
Then, Ruby’s demeanor shifted as if her grief was too strong to fight and had taken the reins back. “Uncle Stetson, any luck?” she asked, her voice sounding more mature than most people my age.
Stetson moved closer to her, dropping to his knees to meet her at eye level.
“Not yet, my sweet girl, but I promise I won’t stop until I find them. Okay?”
