Page 132 of The Devil We Know

And that's how we end up here—at the very last tour date on a tour that can only be described as insane.

Initially, this was supposed to be one of our smaller venues, but after canceling two dates in this city, he decided to make it one over-the-top finale in the stadium.

One can't imagine what it's like to hear the roar of a hundred thousand people until you're actually faced with it.

He'd already announced that he would make a big announcement at the show, and he also warned everyone that his sassy-pants wife would be in attendance and joining him on stage at his leisure. His words, not mine.

And then there's the new song that he has been working on for the better part of a month. The song that fought back tooth and nail until he finally reached down into the very guts of himself and ripped it out. It was painful to watch but also fascinating.

And even at sound check, he was saying it wasn't ready, but when I told him he didn't have to sing it, he scoffed at me. Because yes, he did, and yes, he would.

He started the show as he always does, working the crowd up into a frenzy, holding them in the palm of his hands.

And then intermittently, he would call me out, basically having us do a reenactment of our previous live performances. Starting with Stevie Nicks and eventually ending with a new rendition of our rock-opera rap battle. We've done that on a few occasions, always changing the lyrics to suit our current moods and relationship. It's a crowd favorite and quite entertaining for us as well.

Now, the show is over, and he’s backstage, preparing for his encore. I’m not entirely sure what he plans on doing, though I know if he's going to sing his new song, this will be the time.

I walk over to him, giving him a nudge with my elbow. “You okay?”

His eyes meet mine, and he sighs loudly as he shrugs. “I'm fine. No problem.”

I snort and shake my head at him. “You really going to do this?”

He nods, yanking his sweat-soaked shirt off and quickly replacing it with a fresh one. He picks up his acoustic guitar, strapping it on. Then he looks at me again and asks, “You going to be okay for this?”

I nod, holding up the microphone in my hand. “I got you. No fucking idea what I'm going to say, considering you've given me no heads-up like usual, but I'll manage.”

He grins at me, and for the first time in a while, his grin meets his eyes as he steps in close to me, bending down to steal a quick kiss that I don't have time to return. Then he walks around me, heading out onto the stage without further comment.

He's lucky I already know what's going to happen as far as him calling me out there, likely with some kind of joke that only he finds funny.

I move to the edge of the stage, peeking through the curtain so I can see him, but no one will be able to see me in the darkness.

The crowd has been going bonkers, but as soon as he seats himself in the middle of the stage with the spotlight shining on him, everyone goes silent.

He adjusts his microphone in front of him until it's exactly where he wants it, strums a few chords to ensure the sound is ideal, and then pulls his microphone closer, clearing his throat before saying, "Well, hasn't this been a night?"

The audience immediately screams their approval. The bright smile he shows them is genuine, though sadness still twinges his features.

He waits for the noise to die down. When they're all once again silent, he continues, “I know I said I had some news, and I guess this is a good time to say it. No one's going to be very happy about it, but let me assure you, it's not forever.”

There are a few negative shouts in the audience, some laughter and random shouts, and he sighs and shakes his head. “Now, let's not pretend it's a big surprise. But I'm not getting any younger, and I've dedicated practically my entire life to my career, and as much as it pains me to do so, I've accepted that I need a break.”

There's some clapping and hooting, but for the most part, the tone of the crowd remains excited. He pauses for a few moments longer than he probably anticipated, his jaw clenching as he works to keep himself collected. “My wife and I have plans.We want to expand her entertainment management business. We want to ensure everyone has a safe space as they work to begin or even maintain their career. This expansion will take considerable time, and given how hard we've been working, this seems to be the best time for us to shift our focus.”

My eyes burn, a wall of emotion churning in my chest at his first official statement of our immediate future. He glances over at me, a small smile on his lips, and he winks. Then, he turns back to the crowd with a sheepish expression. “And then there's the fact that other than our short honeymoon, we haven't had time to truly sit back and enjoy being married. As time has gone by, and each of us has put considerable time and effort into maintaining our own careers, we've had to spend more and more time apart. Frankly, we don't want to be apart at all—ever.”

He waggles his brows, his expression playful, and the crowd cheers, hooting and stomping their feet in reaction. I shake my head, entirely accustomed to his antics, but still, my cheeks burn.

He lets them have their bit of fun and then raises a hand, urging them to calm down. They do almost instantly, and he stares out at them, that tinge of sadness back in his eyes. “As you all know, from the sudden cancellations in my tour schedule, we suffered a great loss to our family. I've been fortunate so far in my life, where though I had known loss, I had never truly known grief. That visceral, soul-altering feeling of anguish. It's easy to sit on the outskirts of such untenable emotion if it isn't actually touching you. But when it comes for you, when someone you truly love is ripped away from you, you find yourself yanked down into an absolute sea of pain. And no matter how much you fight it, regardless of how much you pretend, deny, and put on a front of strength and perseverance, it will get you.”

The typical screaming, clapping, and stomping has dulled, his words now echoing sniffles and words of encouragement.He sighs again, shaking his head before continuing, “The only plus, well, I don't really want to call it a pro, but for lack of better words…” He pauses, laughing at himself, and everyone laughs with him. “Listen, y'all know that I'm an over-the-top melodramatic pain in the ass. So, for me, this great loss added fuel to the fire. With great sorrow comes greater creativity, and though I have no idea if this new song is going to be complete shit or not, I feel inclined to sing it anyway.”

The crowd roars their approval, knowing, if nothing else, Declan Hughes throwing a brand-new acoustic song at them is something for the ages. He raises his hands again, and the crowd quickly quiets. “First, I need you to once again welcome my wife to the stage.”

The crowd immediately starts chanting my name, and I roll my eyes, though I'm happy for the short reprieve from sadness. He looks over at me, and I step through the curtain, turning my mic on and saying into it, “Really?”

He smiles, rising from his seat and meeting me halfway across the stage. He takes my hand, leading me to where one of his stage crew has put another stool out, assisting me to get comfortable before sitting back on his own stool. He adjusts his guitar and microphone again and then looks over at me, the despair in his eyes reflecting the sad smile on his face.

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