Page 152 of Five Summers

A stray tear spills down Poppy’s cheek and I lift my hand and gently wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.

“Poppy,” I whisper, my voice heavy with sorrow. As I gently cup the side of her face with my hand, I move closer. “I hate myself for hurting you. Let me be the guy I should've been years ago. Let me be the one who should've stayed and told you how I feel.”

“I would like that.”

The gentle touch of my lips to hers feels like a pledge of what is yet to come.

“Can I see a photo of him?” I ask, curious to see if he takes after Poppy.

She smiles, grabs her phone, clicks through to find the photo, and then hands it to me.

A stray tear spills down my cheek when I see Alex. His eyes, jawline, and hair color are an exact reflection of mine. He looks just like the photo of me that my mom kept on her bedside table.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, little man,” I say to the image on the screen. “I promise to make it up to you now.” I run my fingers over his tiny face, taking in every precious detail. It’s as if I already know him somehow. It’s like he’s the same little boy I once was, full of happiness and love. But the difference is, I had the love of both a mother and a father back then. On the other hand, Alex has been without a father for years. I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever asked about me. And if he has, I wonder what Poppy has told him.

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?’ Poppy says.

“He is.”

Reg’s loud voice sounds and I hand Poppy back her phone.

“Why the fuck are you not up there?” He says coming towards us.

I quickly stand up, completely ignoring the arrogant dickhead. Taking Poppy’s hand in mine, I guide her away from him, striding in the opposite direction. There is no way this asshole is coming between us. Nothing is ever again. This is my family, and a true man fights for his family to make it work.

I ignore the asshole’s persistent rants, even when he continues to follow us and interrogate me about my whereabouts. But I refuse to engage in his game, fully aware that any interaction will only lead to another complaint he will make to the label, accusing me of disappearing once again.However, now that I know the truth, I couldn’t care less about his accusations. If I had to choose between fame and family, I would give all of this up in a heartbeat. It’s a no-brainer when it comes down to it.

Listening to him, I’m fully prepared to confront Reg if he dares utter a word to Poppy, like he usually does.

To my surprise, he remains silent. I can’t help but question the reasoning behind Reg and Ace’s insistence on bringing Poppy along for this tour. Sure, there have been times when I’ve gone off the radar to clear my mind, but most of the negative attention in the media is stirred up by Reg. My outbursts have mostly been in response to false stories printed in the papers or online. I’ve often clashed with the label over their demands, but my anger was primarily fueled by Poppy being exposed to all that untrue nonsense. I never wanted her to witness any of it, nor did I want her to believe she was just some casual fling. Her presence on this tour allows me to confront the heaviness of leaving her behind. Now, I can finally deal with all the stuff I’ve been avoiding for years.

“Where are we going?” Poppy asks as I guide her around the back area of the stage and down the side corridor.

“I can’t bear the sound of this fool butchering my songs anymore. If he keeps going, I might just jam a pencil in my ears.”

Her laughter fills the air, a familiar and comforting sound that brings a smile to my face.

As soon as I step onto the stage with Poppy, her hand tightens its grip on mine. Nate’s drumming abruptly halts the moment he lays eyes on me, and Ace’s guitar playing suddenly stops.

“Thank fuck,” Ace says. “I never want to hear that asshole sing another word as long as I live.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Theo comments, approaching and taking his usual spot, ducking his head and slipping his guitar strap onto his shoulder.

Lewis, the sound guy, steps forward. “We’re already behind, and Reg is on my ass about the time, so let’s just wrap up with the last song,” he says, turning away.

The final song, the one that has haunted me for years, now belongs to the fans. But with Poppy by my side, I want to create another special memory for just the two of us. I reach out and take Poppy’s hand, pulling her across the stage.

“What are we doing?” she asks, and I hear the worry in her voice.

“We’re going to sing,” I reply.

Poppy yanks her hand from mine and shakes her head, desperate to create distance between us. But I quickly wrap my arm around her waist and draw her closer to me. I am aware of the watchful eyes of the other three band members as they observe our intimate exchange. Leaning in, I softly whisper into her ear, “Princess, this song is ours. The moment I heard you sing it, I felt something powerful, even though I couldn’t understand what it was at the time. It shouldn’t belong to the fans, so let’s reclaim it as ours.”

“But I don’t sing anymore, Xander. I haven’t for years,” she whispers.

It saddens me to hear her say that, especially since she has more talent than some of the singers signed to the label.

“It’s just the two of us here, Princess. The guys won’t judge you. It doesn’t matter how you sound, just sing it with me.”

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