Page 42 of Second to None

After the third take, the director gave us a thumbs up. “Thanks, everyone! I think that should do it.”

The intro, then.

We must have done this a thousand times for photoshoots and interviews, draping ourselves over pieces of furniture meant to fit three instead of five. Levi took the middle, the rest of us slotting into place like a slapstick scene—Ellis to Levi’s right, a casual arm slung across the couch, and I took the left, angled into Levi’s side with an arm around his waist. Mason and Ellis sat on the Persian rug, leaning back against our legs.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the cameraman said.

Levi sucked in a breath, so quiet that I almost missed it. I pressed my knuckles into his hip, just enough that he would notice, invisible to the room. His quick, searching look was followed by the slightest upward tug of a smile. Then he turned back to the camera.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“All right,” the director said. “Let’s roll.”

Nods around the room, all sound dropping away. The cameraman raised his hand, fingers spread, and silently counted down—five, four, three—then pointed directly at Levi for two. And one.

I could feel him draw another deep breath.

When he spoke, his low, measured voice betrayed none of the tension I could still sense in him. “It’s hard to explain what it feels like,” he said. “Seeing someone you love in a fight they didn’t choose. Lost, helpless, all of that.” He took an extra beat between words, throat moving once, tightly, before he continued. “But every breakthrough, every discovery? Those come from people like you, who want to make a change. So tonight, let’s turn helplessness into hope.”

Silence. His words hung in the air for a long moment, and I forced myself to keep my focus on the camera until its recording light switched off. God. My entire body ached like that time I’d gotten the flu somewhere along the South America leg of our final tour, maybe in Peru or Chile, and I’d dragged myself on stage anyway, high on meds, only to crash into a lonely hotel bed immediately after and wake up shivering all over. All I’d wanted was for Levi to lie with me for a little while, but I’d already lost him.

Mason broke the silence with a quiet, “Jesus, now that’ll make people cry. Good job, brother.”

“Thanks.” Levi’s grin didn’t reach his eyes.

I didn’t think before I pulled him into a hug. Just hung on, arms tight around him, choking back another apology I knew he didn’t want to hear. The way he folded into me said he heard it anyway.

That I was forgiven—maybe.

* * *

Beverly Hills,Tuesday, August 19th

In a couple of hours, Levi and Emily would fly back home.

It was no big deal—really, it wasn’t. Yeah, maybe things would look a little different from a distance; maybe once LA was firmly behind him, Levi would remember why he should hate me. But he was someone who kept his word. So I’d see him in Leeds in just a matter of days.

No. Big.Deal.

Which meant I needed to get my act together. Slowly spinning the globe in my entrance hall might make me look like the star of some French drama with meditative shots and long silences, but geography wasn’t going to write my next album. I still let my finger run over the metal ridges, over words etched in imitation of Levi’s sloping handwriting.

Berlin:‘Fireworks and Thunder’for an open-air show in the middle of a summer thunderstorm, rain pouring down, but the vibe had been amazing. Bangkok:‘Keep it Up’for how the five of us, overtired and high on caffeine, had turned the airport’s VIP lounge into an impromptu makeshift hacky sack circle. Machu Picchu:‘Peaks & Valleys’for a rare day off in Peru when we’d done a hike through breathtaking scenery, just him and me.

So many memories.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the stillness. In the name of productivity, I considered ignoring it and ended up checking anyway, just in case. A message from my assistant confirmed the logistics of my live performance for tomorrow’s charity event. Not Levi—of course not.

Should I send him a note?‘Have a safe flight,’maybe? No—too boring.‘It was really good to see you again.’Too formal.‘I already miss you.’Too much.

Words unwritten, I tucked the phone away, stepped back from the globe, and finally turned toward my quiet, empty music room. Settling in a spot of sunlight on the Persian rug, a guitar and a notebook by my side, I felt the echo of Levi’s words like they’d sunk into these walls.

‘It’s hard to explain what it feels like, seeing someone you love in a fight they didn’t choose.’

I closed my eyes and listened. Then I picked up my pen.

* * *

Leeds,Friday, August 22nd

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