Page 79 of Hope & Harmony

“You just fucking bailed? We’re in the middle of a show.”

I turn, releasing Madi. I look at Shawn standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and an irritated expression covering his face. He looks like he could spit nails.

“Madi, this is my brother, Shawn,” I say. “Shawn, this is Madi.”

He rolls his eyes. “Did you even hear me? You need to get back inside.”

“This isMadison.” My words come out tersely as I stress her name, a name he’s very familiar with.

Shawn blinks, and then his head jerks back, realization visibly rolling through him. “Madison, Madison?” he clarifies.

As if there could ever be another one.

We were together on the night I found Madison in the alley. He went with me to the hospital and sat with me in the lobby as I waited for an update, covered in blood and dirt from kneeling on the ground and picking her up then holding her as we sped through the city streets. His smile grows wide on his face as he realizes who she is, and he claps his hands together.

“Well, holy shit!” He steps closer and brings her in for a hug, making her laugh. “So glad to see you up and well,” he says, moving back and assessing her before looking at me. “Now your little skedaddle off stage makes a bit more sense.”

I roll my eyes. “Nobody says skedaddle.”

He ignores my comment. “Look, now that you’ve met while she’s conscious, get her number, then get your ass back inside, alright? We’re still performing.” He winks at Madison and backs up to the doors of Rhythm & Brews. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

I snort at his blatant flirting as he disappears back into the bar, knowing the showboat inside him can’t keep from doing shit like that.

“Sorry about him,” I say to Madison, turning back to look at her.

She grins. “He seems nice.”

I chuckle, though it fades when I realize I have to head back in. “I do need to get back to the show, though,” I say. “Can I get your number? We’re in town for a couple of days, and I…”

“Yes.” Her response is quick, and she tucks her chin for a beat and shifts on her feet. “Yes, you can have my number.”

We take a quick second to swap information, and once I have her name in my phone, I look at it for a long second.

Madi Ross.

I didn’t know her last name before, and getting that next piece of information feels like a treasure. I tuck my phone away in my pocket, already eager to use it and planning to text her as immediately as possible.

“I guess you need to go back in there,” she says, and I don’t think I’m imagining the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

I nod. It’s a struggle for me to step away from her. Part of me can’t help but fear I’ll lose her again after waiting so long to find her. I reach out and tuck some of her loose hairs behind her ear, then stroke my thumb along the sharp angle of her jaw and chin.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell her.

Madi nods. “You better.”

I grin.

After a few more seconds of just staring at her beautiful face—her wide eyes and button nose and heart-shaped mouth—I finally do the impossible and go back inside. Once I’m on the stage a few minutes later, I pick up my guitar and slip the strap over my shoulder. I feel distracted as Shawn speaks into the mic. We start the next song, and it takes incredible mental effort to get myself into the right headspace.

But then, over the heads of the crowd, my eyes catch sight of the doors at the entrance opening again, and my heart thuds as Madi walks through and takes a seat at the bar.

She’s still here.

Performing like this—with a vibrant audience and high energy—is something I have always lived for, but having Madi here to watch me brings things to new heights, and I play my heart out knowing she’s watching. The next hour flies by as we rock out to song after song, focusing on the ones that have been getting the most plays over the past year. It’s wild to think back to where I was just a few years ago when Shawn and I were barely scraping by and trying to make a name for ourselves. Now, we’re playing sold-out shows and going on tour. It’s a dream we fought long and hard for.

When we wrap for the night, I don’t take the time my brother does to meet fans or sign autographs. I just want to play, but my brother wants the lifestyle, which works out perfectly because they all prefer Shawn anyway.

Instead, I slip through the crowd, ignoring any attempts to get my attention, and head in the direction of where Madi is waiting, still at the bar.

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