“Bigger and better,” I giggle, letting all my inhibitions go as Kieran belts out the first note of the first song he ever sang under this roof.
 
 Twirling in my chair, nostalgia presses heavily on my chest. The first time I saw Kieran after high school was on that very stage. He sauntered, eating up the attention of their growing fanbase.
 
 Like now.
 
 He eats it up, smiling at them, soaking up their screams. I swivel my eyes toward the door girl sitting in her seat, staring at the men on stage with raw hunger.
 
 Yeah, they’re fucking hot. And fucking mine.
 
 That was the same spot all those years ago. Where I sat and watched with my heart in my throat, begging Kieran to recognize me. Just once. I wanted to hear him call me Blue and kiss me and tell me he missed me.
 
 Dead End is where it all started for us. From the moment I sent that email asking them to play, I sealed my fate. From the frantic fucking against Booker’s desk with an audience behindus. To that moment we walked into the Castle house on the lake in Missouri and left changed people, leaving me with a little present I’d come to love. Never regret.
 
 Our story isn’t a short book. It’s long. Fucking tragic. Filled to the brim with angst and betrayal. It’s four hundred thousand words of our start, our middle, our tumultuous end. Bringing us to the unexpected reunion. The tears, shouts, fights, and finally—our new beginning.
 
 We’ve come full circle.
 
 In the very place that started us. This is the story of Whispered Words and the girl they so desperately loved, forgot, ruined, and pieced back together. Only this time, I’m getting my happy ending.
 
 No matter what.
 
 Fuck. Tequila makes me horny and sappy. I need another goddamn drink before I shed some tears.
 
 “Another,” I rasp, turning back to Ode, who grins, watching my misty eyes with fascination.
 
 “You’ve got it so bad, girl,” she says, leaning in so only I can hear her. “Make them make it count this time. If they fuck up…”
 
 “They won’t.” At least, I hope not.
 
 “No,” she says, filling my shot glass. “They wouldn’t dare fuck it up again. You know why? Because they’ve got it bad, too. Even worse than before.”
 
 I nod in agreement.
 
 Taking another shot, I watch with hearts in my eyes as they continue their set into two more familiar songs. The crowd waves their hands in the air. Phones come out of pockets, recording their free show. People shout their names individually, gaining their smiles.
 
 Kieran huffs breathlessly into the microphone, wiping the rogue beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
 
 “Central City! You guys are amazing! You enjoying the show?” he shouts, earning yells of approval. “Good! It’s so damn good to be back here!” He grins more, showing off his pearly whites. “You all know this is where we started. Right on this stage.”
 
 “Hell yeah!”
 
 “You’re amazing, Kieran!” that annoying, familiar voice shouts again. I swear if she shows her tits, the new door girl is going to have to walk her out before I beat her eyeballs in.
 
 “Careful, Green Monster,” Leon quips, squeezing my shoulder. “I can kick her out if you want. But this is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to her since she had kids.”
 
 I wrinkle my nose, finally glimpsing Tessa in her short shorts and tube top. She looks the exact same as back in the day. Blonde hair. Pearls. Lean body. And a beautiful snarl twisting her face.
 
 “Someone mated with her?” I snort.
 
 “Jesus, how drunk are you?” Ode asks, passing by with drinks in her hands.
 
 “Little,” I giggle, holding my fingers together.
 
 “Yeah, she has three little spawns running around. She got married to some old, rich prick four years back,” Leon says with a shrug. “Take care of yourself, baby girl. Maybe no more tequila for you.”
 
 “Tequila lets my girl live the damn life she’s craving. Let her drink more so she can go home and get dicked down in the darkness by four hunky rock stars who look like they want to eat her alive,” Ode says, sliding the entire bottle of tequila in my direction. “Have at it, bitch. Drink all the drinks. But don’t regret a damn thing in the morning.”
 
 “No regrets,” I say, lifting the bottle to my mouth and down a mouthful.