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My appetite was shit, and I got several headaches, as I endured a crash course in tear-induced catharsis.

Over time, though, the sadness and anger faded.

I thought less about Max and focused more on building a new life for my son and me together.

I also focused on eating well, taking long walks, or sitting on the back porch to let my mind drift toward the future.

My peace grew, my bond with Raff deepened, and our routine settled into a stable normal.

The other highlight of my days became my growing connection with Deacon.

He called Raff and me at nine p.m. our time as many evenings as possible, no matter where he was.

Once Raff went off to bed, Deacon and I stayed on the line to chat.

He shared tidbits about the cities he was visiting, tour gossip, and updates on the progress of the band’s orchestral album he was working on the side.

We talked about Raff’s school, what we ate for dinner, and the smallest details of our lives.

I found myself missing him just moments after he hung up, thinking of him as he made his way from Glasgow to Madrid, Prague, Budapest, and Vienna.

I could not wait for him to come home.

DEACON

The midnight air over Vienna carried a crisp chill, a welcome relief from the sweltering arena heat.

My Six Sinners brothers and I crowded a stone terrace on our hotel’s upper level, drinking local Stiegl beers as we came down from our show high.

Our shows were now bleeding into each other, and the exhaustion was building.

We were in Vienna on our last European leg.

Next, we had two weeks of downtime in Nashville, followed by a couple of massive concerts in New York, Chicago, and LA.

Below us, the rain-slicked streets glittered under the glow of iron streetlamps.

Gothic spires and baroque facades carved jagged silhouettes into the bruised midnight sky, framing a city built on old stone and classical history.

Jude, Bishop, and Reign were slumped in individual chairs, with beers in hand.

Levi sat on a nearby outdoor lounge sofa, plucking a rhythm on an acoustic guitar.

Angel lounged across from him, boots propped on a table, his fingers tracing the rim of his amber bottle.

My mind drifted off as I leaned my forearms on the balustrade, tracking the headlights of a lone taxi rolling past a limestone archway below.

‘Hey D,’ Angel rumbled, breaking the silence with his characteristic bluntness. ‘You’ve been mooning about this whole leg. Where’s your mind at?’

I took a long pull from my beer.

‘Me? Mooning? Nada,’ I drawled.

‘Ana?’ Levi guessed.

‘Maybe,’ I hedged, hiding the jolt her name gave me.

‘Her and Massimo are done?’ Jude rasped.