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“That’s serious. Does this mean a proposal isn’t far off in the future?”

Both of us let out a nervous laugh. We were expecting those kinds of questions, but the shock of hearing them wasn’t lost.

“You’re going to have to stay tuned to find out.”

CHAPTER 37

FAISE

JULY 2

There was a proposal.

No, not me and Ronin. Not yet…

Dawson had flown to LA for the weekend to visit Holls. And, after our July 1st sold-out performance, Holls proposed to his boyfriend. Privately. The next day, the press release had our fans going wild.

The Wayward Lane family had another reason to celebrate.

And tonight, we were doing just that. Our security had allowed us to attend an exclusive club with invite only privileges. No paps, no unscreened guests, and no problems.

“So, you guys set a date or what?” Brodie asked as we sat at a table, downing shots of tequila. “Or are you gonna be like me and Van, and run off to Vegas?”

Dawson and Holls were too busy making out to pay Brodie’s question any attention.

“Hey, fuckers!” Brodie yelled out over the music. “You’re getting married! Plenty of time to suck face later.”

Dawson gave Holls one last kiss and turned to give Brodie a dirty look. Not that it had any effect on our frontman. Dawson might look scary as fuck with his fauxhawk and intense expression, but all of us knew the man was a gentle giant.

“There’s no rush,” Dawson replied as he held up his hand, admiring the gold ring. “So, no Vegas wedding.”

“Well,” Holls started. “I wouldn’t say no to getting married sooner rather than later. But, no matter what, we gotta plan it out. No elopement. Jaxon needs to be a big part of our day.”

Dawson’s son. Holloway’s soon to be stepson. Holy shit. To think of Holloway, who, only six months ago was your typical rock n’ roll fuckboy, as a stepdad, was crazy. Crazy, funny, and surprisingly, perfect. Our friend had a big heart and when he loved, he did it all the way. With his mom long since passed, and his dad now out of his life, Holls had gone and created his own kind of family. First with us, and now with Dawson and Jaxon.

For musicians like us, having that kind of support is what keeps you grounded. Too often, the attention, the fame, the accolades, it all goes to your head. But fame doesn’t last forever.

For the past twelve years, we’d busted our asses building our music careers, so our personal lives were all about fun. And we enjoyed our bachelorhood. We were on the move constantly and we didn’t need anything but our dreams, our music, and plenty of sex. But love? Please. That was for songs and shit.

Or it was. Now it was our life.

“You don’t have to have the wedding in Vegas but how about the bachelor parties?” I offered, raising a glass.

“I’m down with that.” Holls nodded.

Everyone clinked glasses, then downed our shots.

“Fuck, what a difference a year makes,” I muttered. “How the hell did we get so lucky?”

“It’s all Van,” Brodie insisted as he turned to his husband. “You started it.”

“Me?” Van scoffed. “You mean, you.”

Brodie kissed Van’s confused expression away. “You walked into our lives five years ago and nothing’s been the same.”

“You guys would’ve made it to the top, with or without me,” Van replied.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, honey. All that shit’s great, but without your love, it doesn’t mean anything.”

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