And in a world where people are ready to tear me apart…He chose to stand beside me, and there’s no one I want more than him. I think I love my husband.
30
KATE
THE ONE WHO WRECKS ME
“You’rethe one who wrecks me/Slow burn, fast crash, can’t break free/I swore I’d never fall this deep..” Kate Riggs
Everything seems to be working.
The shows are packed. The crowds are loud. The merch is selling, and my manager is happy. Hell, I’m evenhappy.
And I should be thrilled—and Iam. But the second I step onto the tour bus after tonight’s stadium set, the high flickers for a second, because I misshim.
Finn.
It hits harder than I expect, the empty space next to me where he should be—where I’ve gotten used to him being.
God, what has he done to me? I’m wrecked.
I try to shake it off and force myself back into the post-show glow. Hell, I just blew the roof off an outdoor stadium. The crowd was electric—singing every word back at me, the lights flashing like fireworks, the air thick with sweat, fake smoke, and adrenaline.
It was everything I used to dream about, back in that double-wide, writing songs in the dark. And now, I get to celebrate it. But it’s not the same without Finn being here to celebrate with.
I duck into my room on the bus, peeling off my stage clothes—tight black leather pants, a fringed cropped tank clinging to my skin like it grew there, and the heat of the show. My body’s still buzzing. I can’t sit still.
Outside, I hear the band laughing, someone’s girlfriend’s voice rising over theirs, calling for an after-party.
I swap my sweaty clothes for something wilder—a slinky black mini dress that hugs every inch of me, paired with thigh-high boots that practically dare anyone to look too long. My makeup’s already smudged perfectly from the show—dark liner, glitter still catching under my eyes. I rake my fingers through my hair, letting it fall messy and wild.
I look like trouble. And Ifeellike it, too.
My phone buzzes just as I’m adjusting the neckline of my dress.
Finn
You still riding that high?
I grin, my stomach flipping.
Still buzzing. But it’d be better if you were here.
He calls instead of texting back, and the second I hear his voice—rough, familiar-I go weak at the knees.
“Tell me about the show, Princess,” he murmurs, voice thick with something darker than just curiosity.
I settle back on the bed, my legs draped over the armrest, phone pressed tight to my ear.
“It was wild,” I breathe, still catching my breath. “The crowd was insane. Lights, cameras, everything. I felt like a fucking star.”
“Youarea star,” he growls, and I can hear the heat creeping into his tone. “Wish I could’ve been there to see you strut around in that little outfit.”
My skin prickles.
“I’m not wearing that anymore,” I tease, my voice dipping. “I changed.”
“Yeah?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Tell me what you’re wearing now.”
