Remorse lifted his eyes to meet mine.
Grey.
Sad.
Scared.
Shame leeched into his tone. “That’s what I don’t get, Baz. Why would you do that? Why would you give up everything for a stupid mistake I made? Since day one, all of this has been my fault.”
He was wrong.
It was mine.
“I’d give up everything because I love you, Austin. Because you’re good and you deserve a good life. You gotta get that.”
“And what about you?”
Soft, unsatisfied laughter pushed between my pursed lips, and I waved my hand around his room. “Have everything I need, Austin.”
But somehow it was no longer enough.
He shook his head. “What about that chick back in Savannah?”
Shea.
Shea.
Shea.
My chest tightened painfully.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t dig that,” he continued, a sly smile working its way onto his mouth, before that smile turned knowing. “I saw you, Baz…I saw that you were happy. You liked her.”
Yeah. I fucking did.
I forced a smile. “Believe me, she’s better off without me.”
Energy vibrated, and that feeling came over me that I’d thrived on for so many years, like a compulsion that drew me forward, swallowing me whole.
Zee stepped out ahead of us, sticks in one hand lifted over his head.
Shouting.
Screams.
That energy flared.
Ash and Lyrik strode out ahead, and I trailed behind them as screams escalated to a riot, the surge of the crowd as they pushed forward to get closer to the stage. Blinding lights shone from above, jutting through the dark, dusky haze that lifted in swells of smoke from the stage floor. Spotlights and colored strobes burst against my eyes, and I grabbed my guitar from the stand, slid the strap over my head.
“How’s it going tonight?” I asked into the mic as I played a single chord. More screams. “Heard some of you might’ve been worried we dipped out on you all.” I let a smirk take hold of my face as I wove into the introduction of our first song. “Not going anywhere.”
A furor rippled through the rowdy crowd, and the guys and I drove into our first song. That song flowed into the second, the aggressive strains of our music causing me to feel like I’d been welcomed home, like I’d been lifted to a different plane. Like I became someone else when I poured all I had into my songs. Gave it all to those who ate it up. That energy alive as the crowd went completely wild at the foot of the stage.
Heavy heat permeated the dank music theater.
It should have been suffocating.
But it was always on stage where I could breathe.
On stage where I belonged.
On stage where I was free.
Without the heavy burdens of this life.
But tonight thoughts of Shea and my baby brother had followed me here, and all of that got mixed up in this. It made me feel off-balance.
Lost in this disorganized contentment.
Pulses of energy crashed into my body on a steady stream of waves.
Adrenaline pitched through my veins, feeding the fans, in turn them feeding me.
I dove into the guitar riff with all the pent-up frustration locked deep inside.
Closer to the mic. Belted out the lyrics.
Bled them, really. Because they were made of me.
I can’t touch time
There’s no remedy for this space
How long will you hold me under?
Just end it now
End me now
Everyone screamed, and a frenzy of voices sang out the words in a chaotic chorus.
And I felt so alive.
And so completely ruined.
Because I couldn’t reconcile this, this life I knew, the one we’d strived to attain, created through sweat and blood and unshed tears—through death—with the one my heart told me I wanted.
Lifting my shirt, I wiped the sweat from my face, my body still buzzing and my heart running wild as I headed backstage after the three-song encore.
Ash clapped me on the back as he rushed by, spinning on his heel to look back at me with a huge-ass grin on his face. “Fucking awesome show. Didn’t know how bad I was missing it until I got back on that stage.”
I raised my chin to him. “Yeah, man. Great show.”
He gave me a salute as he spun around again, disappearing into the large reception room with the two attached dressing rooms.
Anthony grabbed my attention from where he was waiting just off stage, gave me a quick hug that was nothing more than a couple quick slaps to my back. “You guys nailed it tonight. Fans were nuts. They needed this.”
“It was kind of insane out there,” I agreed. “Felt good.”
And it did, and I had no clue how to make sense of the mixed emotions, like I was being ripped in two, drawn in separate directions.
Anthony stepped back, expression serious. “Karl Fitzgerald is in the office. He’d like a word.”