“Do you really mean that?” He breathes in deeply, his gaze so unlike the empty one I saw when we first met. “Because if you do, then I’m going to kiss you now.”

I don’t give him the time to make that decision. Instead, I climb on my toes and tug him down so his lips crash onto mine.

The taste of him feels like inhaling after being held underwater for a long time, like your body is refilling on something vital.Whoosh, my heart goes, again and again, overwhelmed to finally be home, to have gotten back the part of me that only exists when he’s there. The part that’s willing to move forward, to accept the things that happened, and to trust in the future. The part that wants to experience everything and that believes someone can love me just the way I am.

Carter’s hands move from my hips to land on my back and behind my head, pulling me so close to him I’m crushed to his chest, lungs squeezed tight as his tongue traces the seam of my lips. I open for him, relishing the feel of him in my mouth, under my nails, against my stomach. He nips at my bottom lip and then at my chin, and I forget all about the people around us, my only concern being my need for him.

As I whisper his name, his nose brushing against mine, eyes glimmering under the spotlights, he says, “I missed you so goddamn much.”

I hug him tight, relishing the way his heartbeat feels against my cheek.I’m right here, it says.

Carter pulls back slightly so he can stare at me for a long time, his thumbs brushing over my lips, my cheekbones, my nose, and then his face splits into the biggest, most precious smile I’ve ever seen. “This is real?”

“Yeah.” I grin back, restraining myself from jumping in his arms. “It’s real.”

As if stealing the idea from my head, he picks me up and spins me around once, he too having forgotten about the people around. He kisses me again, allowing me to taste the smile on his lips. There are no secrets remaining, no faking our way around, no hesitation around our feelings. He is mine, and I am his.

And later that night, when we are back home in our own little world and he makes love to me, each one of his touches showing me how much he cherishes me, I find myself thinking: it doesn’t get any more real than this.

Epilogue

A year later

Carter

Idon’t know whether this feeling will ever go away.

The tightening in my stomach at the idea of playing in front of a crowd. The thought of the adrenaline rush that’s about to flow in the second the lights turn off and the ear-splitting screams begin.

“Nervous?” Ethan asks me with a nudge of his shoulder.

I don’t bother answering, returning my attention to the sliver of the crowd I can see from the crack of the curtains in the backstage area. The opening act ended twenty minutes ago, so we’re about to go on.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” he says, the teasing tone gone from his voice.

“I know.” I don’t have to, but I actually want to.

It took me a while to realize I wanted to get back to playing, and that all stemmed from that first time Lili basically shoved me on stage. Since feeling that pure joy again, I knew I couldn’t go back to never picking up the guitar in front of a crowd again.

I never signed up for playing full time—I still don’t think tour life is the best place for me, even with my support system with me, but going on once in a while as a second guitarist for Crash & Burn when they’re doing local shows is good enough for me. Scratches that itch I never thought I’d be able to soothe again in my life. I won’t ever have a career as a professional guitarist again, and that’s fine with me. I love my job as a producer, the one Frank encouraged me to reach out for and that changed my life, but what truly fulfills me isn’t even close to work-related. That would be the girl with the blond hair who makes me get up every morning with a purpose. The one who’s spent the past year and a half making me feel more alive than I have in my entire life. Who’s taken the time to discover new passions and directions. Who’s decided to attend college for the first time at the age of twenty-five because she wanted a degree in media and marketing and realized it wasn’t too late to go get it. Who’s taught me more about myself and about life than anyone else.

The band huddles over to the side of the stage a second before the room is plunged into darkness, and as expected, my heart rate jumps through the roof with the heightening of the cheers and shouts.

When the guys walk out onto the stage, I stay in place for a breath, but when Emmett’s hand claps my back, I push through the nerves and follow. My vision blurs as I somehow find a way to my spot, half-hidden in the shadows like I want it. After the first show I played with the band, some old Fickle fans recognized me from videos that had made it online and started tracking the showsI attended, and I’d rather get the least coverage I can. That’s not why I’m here tonight.

I’ll probably never be able to feel only peace and excitement when playing in front of a crowd—nothing that brings that kind of rush could be solely innocent—and that’s something I’ve come to terms with. If Frank were here, he’d probably say that’s a part of my recovery too, and I’d have to agree with him.

But when I finally steal a look at the audience and find the face of the woman I love standing in the first row with our friends at her sides, wearing a proud smile as she looks at no one but me, I know this is the real reason I want to play again. Not only for the joy of knowing I’ve aced a riff, but for the sight of the pride on my wife’s face. It’s the most precious thing I’ve ever earned.

“I love you,” she mouths as if she knows that’s exactly what I need to hear. But even if she hadn’t said the words, love is written all over her. In the way she’s filming the show on her phone, something she still does for old times’ sake, making sure to catch moments she’ll be able to show me later. In the way her eyes are rid of that ache she still sometimes carries with her, on the harder days when she needs an extra hug. In the way her body is angled toward me as if she’s pulled to me in the same way I am to her. That love is the only thing I need to calm me before the show.

In the past year, I’ve made my peace with losing the relationships I had with my family members. They only made me feel worse about myself, and it was only when I met Lilianne that I realized love wasn’t supposed to feel like that. I’m not saying I’ll never talk to Mom or Brandon again, but for the moment, I’mstaying away. I’ve built a new family with Lili, one that’s made of trust, of encouragement and peace, and it’s all I need.

My hands don’t shake when the ticking sounds begin in my earpiece, giving me the counts until I start playing. I don’t need to be nervous. Not when I know who’s waiting for me at the end of the show.

“You were so good out there!” Lili says just as she jumps in my arms and wraps her body around mine, tethering me back. I don’t have to be scared to play because I know no matter what, she’ll be there for me after the performance, my anchor who won’t let me lose myself. “That song…”

I hide my smile in the crook of her neck. I knew she’d love the song I wrote for the band for the album we’ve only begun recording, but I should also have guessed she’d know right away it was mine.