“So… you don’t know anything, then.”
“No,” she admits. “I don’t. But Grayson, if she comes? You better not fuck it up.”
I nod, barely holding myself together.
I need her to show up more than I need to breathe.
And if she doesn’t?
I can’t let myself go there.
A few hours later, it’s game time.
We still haven’t heard anything from Mia, and I’m starting to accept that I’m going to have to go on stage without knowing if I’ll get to see her.
Eric, Brandon, and Tony are backstage, the crew hooking their monitors up and going through a few last minute sound changes from after the opener clears out. Jake paces nearby, glued to his phone, while the Label Gods hover in their overpriced suits, tossing questions at us like we have answers.
I wave off my tech and step away, just for a second. I need one last moment to myself.
She didn’t say yes.
She didn’t say no.
She could still walk in at any minute—wrap her arms around me, kiss me like she used to, send me onstage with that look in her eyes.
There’s still a chance.
I close my eyes and let the tech finish wiring me up. The crowd on the other side of the barrier is already roaring. The house lights have just come down and the intro reel is playing. This should be the moment of a lifetime.
But my mind keeps wandering.
What will she look like?
What will she be wearing?
Will she be smiling?
“Grayson!” Tony bumps his fist against my shoulder. “Circle up.”
We huddle up like we always do, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, breathing intensely, heads bowed like some messy, rock-and-roll prayer circle.
This time, no one cracks a joke. No one yells. We just breathe.
“Twelve years ago,” Eric starts. “We said we’d scream our names into the void until someone screamed them back.”
Tony nods. “They’re screaming now.”
Brandon locks eyes with each one of us. “Let’s remind them why.”
We tighten the circle, foreheads nearly touching, and I feel the heat building in my chest. The grief, the history, the years of clawing our way here—it’s all come down to this.
Tony clears his throat. “Let’s get it, boys.”
All together—one last game-time chant for this tour:
“Nobody knows us, but everybody will. One shot in the dark, no fear, all fire—let’s make them feel it.”
We break and make our way to our marks.
