Page 131 of Over the Edge

“See, this is why I keep you around.” I press against him and pull his face to mine in a kiss.

When I let go, I find him smiling down at me. “I’ll add conflict management next to novelty shirts on the list of things that turn you on.”

Pat walks to the front as students start to pack up their instruments, music stands and chairs. “Thank you to Mr. Cohen and the students of Hartsfall High School for their performance.” Pat continues on providing a brief history of the town and the festival.

“I’m still disappointed you aren’t wearing the infamous wig.” I reach up and brush a strand of his hair.

“If I get to perform next to you, I want to do it as I am with no synthetic hair.”

“A shame. A damn shame that you are depriving me of my deepest desires.”

Microphone feedback cuts through the moment as Pat continues, “Our live entertainment will continue with a special performance. For the last twenty years, Alina Nicolescu has graced us with her voice, and we want to thank her for it. In a last-minute program change we have asked another musical talent to step in. Please welcome Garrett Larson and, for the first time ever, Lyla West.”

A breath catches in my throat. It’s happening—it’s really happening. It hits me far harder than it did when I called Vincent yesterday to move forward with the Reverb contracts and propose this reveal. He had less than twenty-four hours to get the go ahead from Reverb and set up all the necessary PR measures. There’s no more planning. No more running.

I’m Lyla West, and it’s time the world found out.

Whispers rise from the crowd with a frenzied energy, but the hushed words are impossible to pick out.

“Okay, let's go.” I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans and take a step forward.

Before I get any further, Garrett reaches out and spins me back to him. “One more thing.”

His hands land on my hips and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. The kiss is quick, but it still manages to settle some of the nerves caught in my gut.

This wasn’t the easy answer. If I wanted to, I could draw my anonymity out for a few more months until the album was officially released and Reverb could strategically use the reveal as a publicity stunt to boost sales overnight. I don’t want to wait.

I want it all out in the open before I can shy away from one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. After tonight, Garrett and I will go back to Nashville together to visit my parents and go through the explanations in person. I considered telling them before the performance, but I don’t want them to talk me out of this.

The first thing I notice when I step on the stage is a sign being held up by three friendly faces. “Lyla West’s biggest fans.” Avery, Oliver, and Quinn are all beaming, which causes my heart to melt. Scanning the crowd, I spot more people I know and love.

They’re here. My composure waivers as my knees go weak.

I turn away from the microphone to where Garrett is settling his cello between his thighs. “How is my family here?” I whisper.

There they are, mixed into the gathering crowd. Mom, Dad, Drew, and his girlfriend, Lacey. Pride shines from their expressions and the last of the knots in my stomach loosen.

“You only get to do this once. You deserve to have everyone you love cheering for you.”

“How?” I ask in awe of the man I love.

This man who helped me gently find the courage to be on this stage. But that wasn’t enough. He knew how important it was and made sure I could share it with the people I care about most in the world. There are a thousand ways to say I love you, and he’s teaching me a new one every day.

He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I told them it would be important to you and that’s all they needed to hear. You’re a very easy person to show up for.”

The back of my nose prickles with the threat of tears. I take a deep breath and readjust my feet to ground myself. There will be time to get choked up later. Right now, I’m going to give back to a town that I have completely fallen for.

I give Garrett a nod and he lowers his bow to play the first strains of “Funny Valentine.” The energy around us swells in anticipation and when I join in I know I’m exactly where I need to be.

Once the song is over the cheers wash over us. The crowd is at full attention, cameras flashing to capture every second.

“We love you, Lyla!”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“It’s really her. Oh my God. It’s really her!”

It’s a wave that crashes into me, and I can’t contain the impossibly wide smile that stretches across my mouth. This is what I’ve been choosing to go without, feeling connected to so many people with something simultaneously so grand and simple as a song. I’m a part of this.

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