“Yes, I can hear everything.”
“The levels are okay?” The tinny voice of the sound engineer pierced my ear.
“If you could bring down the treble a hair, it would be great.”
“We have a very special treat for you Philly. We’ve known her for over a decade. She played guitar on Burnout way back on the Hometown Whispers album.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Maybe this time—nope. Holden was there with a trashcan.
Emily held back my hair.
I buried my head in the trashcan. What little food I’d wolfed down at dinner in the car ride over came right back up.
A towel was thrust in front of my face after the wrenching stopped. I dabbed at my mouth. Holden handed me a bottle of water with the lid already off. I gargled a little and spit it into the trashcan. He handed it off and everyone swooped back in front of me.
Emily held out a quick dissolve breath strip.
I slid it onto my tongue. The overpowering mint flavor was biting. “Sorry about that. I thought I was good tonight.”
“It’s okay. I made sure she only did the lip liner.” She laughed.
Seemed everyone else had predicted this but me.
“So tonight, because you’re the best damn audience in the world. We have—” Camden held out his arm toward my spot in the wings of the stage.
I plastered on my smile and stepped past my team of people, hustling forward to make my entrance. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, not like they did before my shows, but like they did…
My gaze collided with his at the edge of the stage. He looked so different, but so much the same it was like a lance to my side. Six years. It had been six years since the night I’d told him I loved him again and left. Six years since the day my dad’s guitar had ended up on my lap in the tour bus driving through Illinois on the way to O’Hare. The one Dare had taken from me. The one Keyton had returned. And six years since I’d sent him the text hoping to see him again and he’d shut me out.
Who was he now? Dare or Keyton? Or someone new all together?
“Bay!”
I faltered. My heel caught on one of the taped-down cables running across the stage.
His hands shot out, but I caught myself and turned it into a jog on stage, even as my toes screamed out their displeasure.
I lifted my arm high above my head and waved to the sea of people filling the stadium.
“Hello, Philly. You don’t mind me crashing the party?” My stomach knotted and I glanced over my shoulder.
In the shadows at the side of the stage, he stood a head above everyone else. His shoulders were even broader than before. A pro football career would do that to you.
Was his fiancée with him tonight? The pictures had been splashed all over the same sites as mine right after the Grammys. That had been a double-chocolate-chunk-brownie-ice-cream-sundae day. But he’d looked happy. They’d stared into each other’s eyes and she’d showed off the blinding ring, resting her hand on his chest.
I’d gone out on stage during that first tour with Without Grey needing it to be worth what I’d lost, but the doubts I’d kept locked away in a safe I closed six years earlier pounded harder on the metal making it harder to hear my own thoughts.
Camden’s voice broke me out of the memory maelstrom. “You plan on playing guitar tonight?” He turned and waved a roadie forward.
The stage vibrated under my feet from the cheers of the crowd.
My lips parted and I eyed the gorgeous Martin guitar slung over his shoulder and the one in the roadie’s hands before glancing down at my hands. I shook my head and laughed. “Do these look like guitar-playing nails?”
Tomorrow I’d be shooting for a perfume campaign, and maintaining the nails was in the contract. It also meant I hadn’t played for a few weeks. It felt like an eternity. I’d have to find out when the next break was. Maybe I could get them taken off, if I’d have more than a day or two to myself.
“They look more like super villain nails.”
I shot him a fiercely playful look, rubbing them against my chin. “I have my moments. Now let’s play something for your awesome fans who came out here tonight.”
A few screams erupted from the crowd. “I love you, Bay.” “I love your hair.”
I waved again and threw in a hair flip for good measure. All the eyes on me made it hard to concentrate when I wasn’t singing.
“Any requests?” Camden called out to the whole stadium with his arms out wide.
People yelled out every song on every album we’d released. And all the songs on the pre-approved list provided by Holden. I kept my gaze on the sea of people in front of me and the smile on my face.
But I felt his eyes on me, the ever-present heat of him peeling away layers of me I hadn’t thought could be revealed, here in front of a crowd.
Without Grey came to a consensus, which just happened to be the already-designated song. Funny how that worked out. I got it. Even after only three albums, it was harder to remember the deeper cuts of specific albums if I hadn’t sung them in a while.
The band celebrated the song choice, calling one of the loudest yellers from the crowd up onto the stage.
Chancing a glance, I peeked into the wings. He stood with the auction winners in a tailored suit. For someone of his build, buying something off the rack was impossible, unless he wanted to look like he was about to hulk out in it.
He hadn’t changed much. He was older, more distinguished. High school tough and college brawn had turned into adult rugged. The clean-shaven look accentuated his jaw and the strong neck framed by a crisp navy collar.
Did he miss me?
An ache ricocheted through my chest. But he was engaged now, soon to be married. When was the wedding? Had it happened already? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t look at another gossip site for the rest of my life after seeing the engagement news.
I turned back to the sea of shadowy people with their phone screens lit up like a field of lightning bugs. My stomach filled with the lightness and fluttering that hit me every time I stepped out onto stage, even well after the puking. This was the moment where I sang the songs which had been hummed throughout late nights in a studio or for hours on my tour bus. Having the words come alive was what made it all feel worth it.
But knowing those lightning bug phones out there had people attached to them brought the nervousness raging back. I gripped the mic tightly and closed my eyes, focusing on the lyrics, on the story that needed to be told even though I’d told it thousands of times already.
Austin counted off the beat with his drumsticks and we launched into the Sweetest Goodbye. It was a collaboration we’d done on my first album, which helped me climb the charts.
Every few bars, I couldn’t help seeing if he was still there.
The auction winners danced and clapped, waving their arms overhead.
He stood beside them like a designated babysitter or bodyguard, not someone enjoying the show. Or maybe he had been, before I’d shown up.
Through the crowd's applause and cheering and the final drum beats, Lockwood ran over to get the song request from the auction winners, bringing them up to the front of the stage. I exchanged quick hugs with them as they vibrated with excitement, and glanced over at Keyton.
“We’ve got some great people here tonight, who gave a shit ton of money to the Headstrong Foundation. Give them another big Without Grey hell yes.”