Page 114 of Love You Madly

I turn to Owen, my hand slipping back into his as I force myself to breathe, trying to steady the storm of emotions churning inside me. “Owen, let’s go. I want to check out the merch booth,” I lie, my voice tight but determined. I need to put distance between us and Adam before the situation escalates further.

As we walk away, my heart is still racing, but Owen’s hand in mine is a lifeline. He gives me a reassuring squeeze, his thumb gently brushing over my knuckles as if to remind me that I’m safe now—that Adam’s words no longer hold the power they once did. And in that moment, I realize something important: I’ve finally broken free of the hold Adam had on me. Not because of Owen, but because I’ve chosen to be with someone who lifts me up instead of tearing me down.

I don’t wait for a response, just turn on my heel and lead Owen away, my heart pounding in my ears. The tension in Owen’s body is palpable, but I squeeze his hand, trying to ease some of it, trying to remind him—and myself—that Adam doesn’t get to have any power over us. He squeezes mine back three times in response.

“That could’ve gone worse,” I say, my voice light but laced with the remnants of adrenaline. I try to shake off the encounter, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of Owen’s footsteps beside me, the way his thumb traces soothing circles on the back of my hand.

Owen chuckles, though it’s a bit strained. “I didn’t take him for the type to get worked up over sunglasses.”

“Yeah, well, Adam has his own set of rules,” I reply, rolling my eyes as the tension slowly starts to drain from my body. “But don’t worry about it. He’s just being territorial.”

Owen slows down, pulling me gently to the side, out of the main flow of people. The crowd surges around us, a wave of noise and movement, but in this little bubble, it’s just the two of us. He tilts my chin up, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice soft but firm, like he’s ready to fight my battles if I’d just let him.

I nod, this time more convincingly. “I’m fine, really. I just—” I pause, taking a deep breath, the cool evening air filling my lungs. “I just want to enjoy this night with you.”

His expression softens, the edges of his mouth curling into that smile that makes my heart do funny things. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering long after he pulls away. “Then let’s do that.”

We continue walking, the encounter with Adam fading into the background as the excitement of the concert starts to take over again. The energy in the air is infectious, a collective anticipation that makes the ground seem to pulse beneath our feet. By the time we reach the stage area, the sky has darkened completely, and the lights on the stage cast a glowing halo over the sea of heads in front of us.

The first chords ofHere’s to Ustear into the night, a raw, powerful sound that sends a thrill straight through me. The crowd erupts, and I lose myself in the music, in the pounding rhythm that seems to sync with the beat of my heart. Owen is beside me, his presence grounding me even as the music lifts me up, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world falls away, leaving just the two of us and the music that fills the space between. The surge of the crowd, the lights flashing in time with the beat, the raw energy of Lzzy Hale’s voice—it all wraps around us, creating a cocoon of sound and emotion.

The lyrics of the song resonate in my chest, each word striking a chord deep inside me. It’s a song about survival, about celebrating the highs and lows, the moments that defineus, and the ones we choose to leave behind. I glance at Owen, and I know he feels it too—the connection, the unspoken promise that no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.

There’s a moment during the chorus when Owen turns to me. In the dim, flickering light, I see something in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something without words, something that’s been building between us since the night we first met. I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, and he squeezes back, the warmth of his touch spreading through me like a promise.

As the song crescendos, the crowd sings along, voices rising in unison, and I feel like I’m part of something bigger, something more than just a concert. I’m part of this moment, this connection between me and Owen, and the thousands of people around us who are all here for the same reason—the love of music, the celebration of life, the shared experience that makes us feel alive.

When the song ends, the crowd roars its approval, and I find myself breathless, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I turn to Owen, laughing, my heart pounding in time with the fading beat. “That was amazing!”

A few songs later,It’s Not Youbegins, and I can’t help but laugh at how fitting it is. The opening riff tears through the crowd, and before I know it, I’m screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs, letting the music and words fuel me. The song’s energy surges through me, and I can’t help but think of how perfect the lyrics are for tonight’s run-in with Adam.

I glance at Owen and laugh, knowing he’s watching me jam out with a smile on his face. It’s cathartic, freeing even, to let go and belt the words with zero restraint, being exactly who I want to be, not worried about what Owen might think of my own little concert I’m throwing myself.

Between songs, Owen turns to me, his grin wide, eyessparkling with the same exhilaration that’s coursing through me. His gaze lingers, warm and full of something deeper than just excitement. “Watching you let go is beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but filled with admiration. “And I have to say, you look damn good in that shirt.”

His words send a flutter through my chest. I glance down at the Halestorm tee he bought me earlier, feeling a sudden rush of warmth—not just from the memory of him picking it out, but from what it represents. It’s such a simple thing, a band tee, but right now it feels like a symbol of this night, of us. Of everything that’s beginning between us. Something new, something more than just surface-level attraction. I look back up at him, feeling my heart swell. “Thanks. I think I’ll keep it.”

“You better,” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make my pulse quicken as he pulls me closer. There’s a moment, the world blurring around us, where it’s just his warmth against me, the sound of the crowd fading as I lose myself in the weight of what’s passing between us. His arm tightens around my waist, and I feel it again—that unspoken connection, as if every beat of the music is pulling us even closer together.

As the band transitions into their next song, we fall back into the energy of the crowd, the pulse of the music weaving around us like a spell. I let myself get lost in it, in the pounding rhythm and raw power of the performance, but even as I do, I’m aware of Owen beside me, anchoring me in a way that feels so right. It’s not just about the music anymore; it’s about this—us. It’s a perfect night, the kind that fills you up and leaves you feeling like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. A sense of fullness settles over me, and I know I’m not just experiencing the concert; I’m experiencing something bigger—this connection that hums between us, undeniable and strong.

The band takes a break, and as the crowd begins to disperse a bit, I notice a small line forming near the side of the stage. My heart skips a beat as realization hits. “Owen, they’re signing stuff!”

The excitement in my voice pulls a grin from him, wide and genuine. He looks down at me, his eyes full of that same infectious energy, like he’s ready to share in whatever makes me happy. “Let’s go, then,” he says, nodding toward the line.

His words are simple, but they mean more than that. It’s the way he’s always there, right beside me, ready to dive into whatever moment comes our way. And as we make our way toward the line, I can’t help but think about how easy this is with him—how natural it feels to be with someone who sees me, who lifts me up and doesn’t hesitate to be a part of my world. My heart flutters, and I know—this night isn’t just about the music. It’s about us, and this incredible thing that’s building between us.

We join the queue, and I can barely contain my giddiness as we get closer to the front. When it’s finally my turn, I am excited to see they have the goldSharpiemarkers on the table and ask the band to sign my new shirt. The drummer notices my shoes and I’m thrilled to death when he says that he remembers signing those a couple years ago.

The band members smile, taking in the shoes and continuing to sign the shirt on my back. Lzzy Hale gives me a wink as she hands her bandmate the marker. “Rock on, girl.”

When I turn back to Owen, he’s watching me with this look—one that sends warmth flooding through me, making my heart flip. It’s not just the admiration in his eyes, it’s something deeper, like he’s truly seeing me. All of me. The way he looks at me, it’s as if I’m the only person in the world right now, like I’m worth more than I ever believed I could be.

No one has ever looked at me like this.

“Best weekend ever,” I say, the words coming from somewhere deep inside, a place that feels full and complete. I mean every word. There’s something about tonight, about us, that feels like it’s all clicking into place. Like this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice soft but thick with meaning. He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me in a way that makes me feel safe, cherished. His breath brushes my ear, sending a shiver down my spine as he leans in. “Now, let’s get you home so I can worship that pretty little pussy and show you what a goddess you really are.”

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