“Like I will you. Starting with gazing up at the stars from our bed.”
Both Wesley and I couldn’t think of a better place to spend our honeymoon. Lying in our yurt, tangled in each other while we stargaze.
After we change the sheets and Wesley opens up the skylights, we climb back into bed, my head resting on his chest. “I love you so much, Wesley Morgan.”
“I love you too, Jaxon Morgan.”
THIRTY-ONE
WESLEY
“Lana’s Mischief!Lana’s Mischief! Lana’s Mischief!” The crowd cheers loud enough to shake the stadium. My heart races, and my head swims from the adrenaline. I’m fucking pumped to be here.
This will be the last Lana’s Mischief concert, and I couldn’t be prouder of how it came together. We plan to perform most of our hit singles, as well as one song that was unreleased from our last unfinished album. It will be our last track as a group.
After my last trip to rehab, I knew I was done with making music and touring. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. I will always love music and the opportunities it’s bought me, but I think it’s best that I hang up performing, leaving that to the new artists Mitch signs on to his label.
But before that, I wanted to make it up to the fans for the tour we cancelled before I went to rehab the first time. They’re in the front row, their tickets free of charge. We also met them yesterday in their own private meet and greet, and I personally apologized to them.
Now, we’re playing our last show in the stadium whereI hit rock bottom and collapsed in my own vomit. It’s like coming full circle.
Mitch steps up beside me with a wide grin on his handsome face. “You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
He nudges me. “It’s gonna be great. Don’t worry.”
I jump on the balls of my feet, shaking my arms out. My heart thumps hard against my ribs, but as soon as I walk on that stage, I’ll relax into the old routine of singing for the crowd.
A hand snakes around my side, and I melt into the touch, knowing it can only be Jaxon. I’d know his touch anywhere.
“You’re going to kill it,” he says in my ear before planting a sweet kiss on my cheek. “When we get home, I’ll show you just how well you did.”
Looking over at him, my heart spills over with love. God, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
Like he told me before I went to treatment the second time, he was there every step of the way. He called, visited, and wrote me stupid letters that made me crack up and hold on to the fact that I’d be out of there and he’d be waiting for me. And he was. Front and center when I was finally discharged.
Going back to rehab was hard as fuck. I felt like a fucking failure, like I was given a second chance, and I fucked it off because I was too weak to get to my feet and say no.
I made amends again before I came home, and now, I’m able to move forward with my recovery.
Zed hurries over, and Jaxon steps back so he can help me strap my guitar on. “This is it,” he says to me, Mitch, and Kas, who walked up with him. “Your last show.” He stopstalking and clears his throat as he glances down at his feet. After a few beats, he meets our gazes in turn and in a choked voice says, “It’s been an honor to be your manager.”
I cuff him on the arm, making him chuckle. “We’re still friends, Zed. You just won’t have to keep us straight on the road anymore.”
“Thank all that’s holy,” he murmurs, and we all laugh as our backing music comes on.
I turn to Jaxon and hug him. When we pull free, I give him a long kiss, hoping to press every ounce of my love for him into it.
He sighs against my lips with a smile. “Break a leg, baby.”
With one more peck, I walk out on stage after Mitch and Kas to raucous applause.
I smile and wave, making the crowd cheer louder.
When I get to the mic, I lean in and say, “Thank you all for coming out. We’re honored to be here with you tonight, playing our last show.” More cheers and applause sound while I strum my guitar along to the backing track. “All proceeds tonight go to at-risk youth that end up on the streets. If you’d like to donate, check the back of your ticket for the link. If you ordered tickets online, there’s a link in your confirmation email.”
“You fucking rule, Ryder!” one fan yells.
