Page 134 of Cadence
Maddox’s arm stays around me as we untangle, watching the chaos calm down as the guys grab their instruments again, getting ready for our practice.
It’s loud and messy and all ours.
It’s everything.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Maddox
Amonthandahalf later
The noise is deafening. And I mean that in the best possible way.
It fills my veins like an electric charge, crackling and buzzing straight to my fingertips as they fly across the frets.
The crowd at Rogers Centre is losing their minds, and we haven’t even hit the second verse of the first song yet. Reign’s fans always bring the noise, but tonight, in his hometown, it’s next level. There’s something in the air, like everyone knows it’s the last show of the North American leg of the tour, weightless and thrumming with a charged joy that only happens when everythingclicks.
Beau’s standing stage left, shredding like he was born with the guitar in his hands, dark hair freshly trimmed on the sides of hishead, smiling like he knows he’s killing it. Eli’s anchored on bass, cool and loose, swaying with the groove like nothing in the world could shake him.
And behind me, holding it all down, is Paige.
She’s a storm on the drums, magnetic and confident, landing every beat with purpose.
Her whole body moves with the rhythm, her sticks flying across the toms, the cymbals, each crash vibrating around the arena. She’s a fucking sight, dressed in an off-the-shoulder crop top, the flared sleeves giving each flick of her arm a dramatic edge that is so goddamn sexy.
Long waves of copper hair cascade down her chest, tickling the top of her high-waisted pants, the lace-up detail running up the sides of her thighs like sin stitched in fabric. Every time she shifts, it pulls tight, a naughty little peek into each curve of her hips, a goddamn distraction I cannot wait to peel off her.
She’s grinning, alive in the way that only music can make her, and it’s everything. Not because we’ve never played like this before, but because now we see each other. No walls, no fear. Just truth and trust and all the messy, beautiful history that brought us here.
Me, her, and the guys. Our music. Our moment.
We slide into song after song, eating up the set list, every transition so smooth it barely feels like one. Paige was right, this setup is so much better than before, the fans going absolutely wild.
They roar back every word, scream during the chorus, bounce and rave and dance in the instrumental sections. And we give it to them, full throttle, no holding back.
By the time we hit the final track, it’s a full-body rush. My shirt clings to my back, sweat dripping down my neck, but I don’t feel any of it. All I feel is the hum in my chest and the burn in my fingers as I play the outro riff like my life depends on it.
Paige crashes the final beat, cymbals ringing like a victory cry, right before the lights blast white for the final time, then…blackout.
For half a second, the silence feels like a vacuum, until the crowderupts. Screaming, cheering, pure, visceral sound. I’m panting, shoving back my sweat-soaked hair from my face, clapping Beau on the back as he throws an arm around Eli’s shoulder, shouting and jumping around stage in unadulterated delight.
I slow, turning around just in time to see Paige hop down from the riser, her long hair sticking to her face, cheeks flushed, eyes wild with adrenaline. She’s only holding one stick, the other probably long gone in the heat of her set.
She looks radiant, un-fucking-touchable.
Her grin softens as soon as she spots me, changing into something else, something just for me. She walks straight into my space, glowing from the show, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
She fits there like she always has. Like she was made for this.
For us.
I dip my head and press a soft kiss to the top of her hair, then another to her temple, and finally, when she tilts her face up to mine, our lips meet in a kiss that’s sweet and unhurried.
“Love you, baby,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re disgustingly cute,” Reign cuts in, smug as hell as he strides out from the shadows. “Now get off my stage. My fans are waiting.”
Paige ducks her head, shrugging out of my hold and disappearing into the wings as Reign stalks over, hand held out. I smack my palm against his, and he hauls me in for a one-armed hug.
