Page 95 of Four More The Merrier

43

JARRON

Istep onto the stage, adrenaline coursing through my veins like electricity. The crowd's energy feels different tonight - or maybe I'm the one who's different. Quinn stands in the wing, her presence both calming and electrifying.

The curtain drops and the roar hits me like a physical force. My shirt's already sticking to my back, and my heart's pounding against my ribs. The stage lights cast long shadows across the wooden planks beneath my boots as I step forward, mic in hand.

"How y'all doing tonight?" The crowd surges forward, their energy crackling through the arena. "First, I want to apologize for those postponed dates. Sometimes a man's gotta do some soul searching, you know? But we're back and ready to finish out the last show with a bang!"

A few whoops and hollers echo from the crowd. I run my hand through my sweat-dampened hair, catching my breath. The weight of what I'm about to say settles in my chest.

"But tonight, I've got some news that'll make it up to you." My voice drops lower, more intimate. "You see, we had to go chase down someone pretty special. Someone who makes our music better, who makes us better."

The crowd hushes, hanging on every word. Behind me, I can sense her presence, feel the electricity of anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back to the stage - the incredible Quinn Dupree!"

The spotlight swings wide, catching her as she steps out. The sequins on her dress catch the light, throwing sparkles across the stage like scattered stars. Her auburn hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and even from here, I can see the slight tremor in her hands as she walks toward me.

The crowd explodes. They remember her - how could they forget? My chest swells with something that feels dangerously close to pride as she takes her place beside me, her smile bright enough to rival the stage lights.

"Ready to blow the roof off this place?" I lean close to her ear, my hand finding the small of her back.

"Born ready." She winks, adjusting her guitar strap.

The lights dim and the opening chords of our newest single fill the arena. My voice blends with Quinn's in perfect harmony, and something magical happens. The audience feels it too - they're going absolutely wild.

"Nashville, make some noise for your very own!" I command, and they respond with a deafening roar.

Beau's bass line kicks in, followed by Lyle's drums, and Austen's guitar riff sends shivers down my spine. We're not just playing tonight - we're creating something transcendent.

Between songs, I catch Quinn's eye. She's glowing, and not just from the stage lights. My heart swells knowing our baby is up there too, though nobody else can tell yet.

"This next one's special," I announce to the crowd. "Written by our very own Quinn Dupree."

The surprise on her face is priceless as we launch into her song. We've been secretly rehearsing it, waiting for the perfect moment.

The crowd goes absolutely ballistic. They're singing along by the second chorus like they've known it their whole lives. Quinn's eyes are shining with tears, but she doesn't miss a single note.

"Y'all are witnessing history tonight," I tell the audience during our encore. "This isn't just a concert - this is family."

Beau catches my eye and grins. Lyle throws me a thumbs up. Austen nods, understanding passing between us. We're not just a band anymore - we're something more.

An inebriated fan throws up on the front row, and security rushes them out. Last week's episode with Quinn replays in my mind - her midnight dash to my room for the private bathroom, the spectacular projectile vomiting all over my favorite Stones t-shirt. The others had scattered like roaches when the smell hit.

"Man, you're a trooper," Lyle says, hanging back by the door. "I couldn't even look without gagging."

Beau nods from his safe distance. "The way you held her hair back... that's some real love right there."

"Shut up," I mutter, but there's no heat in it. They're right - watching Quinn suffer through morning sickness has been hell, but leaving her alone feels worse.

Austen strolls in, nose wrinkled. "Still reeking here. But seriously cuz, if anyone's earned the right to put a ring on it..."

"We all agreed," Lyle adds. "You're the only one who didn't run."

I fish the small velvet box from my pocket - the one I've been carrying for days. The stage lights catch the diamond as I open it, sending tiny rainbows dancing across my hands.

The crowd's energy is electric as I turn to Quinn. Her eyes widen as I drop to one knee, the mic feedback squealing slightly.

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