A few opening acts had sung already, smaller fish—bands that had just joined. I’d been like that once. Hungry for any opportunity I could get to move forward.
Nancy had been fighting off reporters for me all night. Especially after I’d pulled her aside earlier that afternoon and told her what I wanted to do. She’d been sad, yes, but she’d been happy for me too. And despite the risk to her own career, she’d helped me arrange everything the way it needed to be for me to move forward with my life.
Miles had said it was time to rest.
And it was.
But first…I had to end the cycle I’d begun.
And as soon as the loose ends were tied up—I planned on running toward my future, rather than away from it.
Despite the large size of my apartment, the space managed to feel claustrophobic. I was just glad the stairs were fenced off so I didn’t have to worry about anyone finding their way up to my bed. It wasn’tthatkind of party, true, but that didn’t make me any less glad to have my privacy maintained.
“You ready?” Nancy hummed, approaching me, the click of her heels somehow louder than the chatter bouncing off the walls. She paused in front of me, her dark eyes soft. “There’s no going back,” she added, voice quiet enough only I could hear. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I let my decision spin around inside my head. Let the thoughts settle. Let my future dangle in front of me, brilliant and brighter than the lights that decorated the tree.
If things went right, this would be my last Christmas away from my family.
If things went right, I could have the holidays I’d always dreamed of. I’d have my birthday off, Bubba’s birthday off—Miles’s too. I’d have every Pie Festival, every Valentine’s Day. I’d be there to help pick out Rosie’s cat. I’d be in the front row for allof Jane’s performances. And every night, sleep would come easy, because I’d be settled safe in Ben Montomgery’s arms, in his bed he said was big enough for the both of us.
There’d be no eyes.
No harsh comments.
Only Ben’s biceps, his snort-laugh, and the way he made me feel like I was ten feet tall.
I’d be his songbird, and no one else’s. And maybe one day I’d learn to love music again.
“I’m sure,” I said, the muscle in my jaw jumping as I bobbed my head. “I’ve never been surer-rerer of anything in my life.”
“Good,” Nancy replied, her eyes a little wet. I’d never seen her cry. Not in all the years we’d worked together. She offered me a hand up and I took it, my pulse skittering, my palms sweaty as she gave it a squeeze.
“Nancy?” a quiet, sweet voice echoed from somewhere behind Nancy’s shoulder. An adorable petite woman dressed in a head-to-toe black lacy dress approached. She looked oddly familiar, her dark eyes full of warmth as she smiled at me, blonde head bobbing.
“Hi, baby,” Nancy pressed a kiss to her cheek, before gesturing toward me. “Robin’s about to go on.”
The woman stared at me for a beat, a demure smile gracing her lips. She had the same kinda energy as a doll, almost. But not in a “Chucky” way, more like a goth fairy godmother or some shit. Like she was built from porcelain and good vibes. “Good luck!” She hummed, her eyes dancing like she knew something I didn’t.
“Thanks,” I smiled at her, annoyed I didn’t have time to ask her name—or properly introduce myself to Nancy’s girlfriend. Because holy fuck, apparently Nancy was dating someone now? Who knew!
What a mindfuck.
The crowd parted for me, quieting somewhat as I made my way to the stage. Nerves fluttered around like mad inside my belly. I’d never done something this risky. Never done something this goddamnterrifyingin all my life. I was about to throw everything I’d built away.
This was scarier than when I’d moved to L.A. on my own.
And I’d thoughtthathad been bad.
I took a breath, fingers slipping easily along the microphone’s surface. I’d opted not to play my guitar tonight. Normally I would—but I didn’t…want a shield between me and what I was about to do, even though it might make things easier.
I was tired of picking the easy route.
And I…well…
I was ready to start pursuing the things that made me happy.
Ready to grow, even though it might hurt.