And Lou beams back.
It’s nothing—a simple show of friendship. But it’s blinding. Too bright for the shadows that have lurked around me all these years. My dad always said that sunlight’s the best disinfectant. I don’t know that Lou needed disinfecting. But the doubt and fear she’s held onto, the walls she’s kept up?
They’ve been toxic.
I know the feeling.
Manny and the stage director start clapping and barking out directions, and when Lou takes her place, she’s smiling.
How can I walk away from that smile, even for a few months?
Why isn’t doing the right thing less complicated?
“All right, gang, listen up,” Manny yells. “Lucy Jane and Connor Nash are co-headlining tonight, and Connor hasgraciously decided that he’ll use all our tech and crew. Oh, and he’ll take the second forty-five-minute set. Lucy will take the first, and then she’ll come out at the encore and they’ll perform three duets. One of hers. Two of his.”
Manny ain’t even trying to hide how irritated this makes him.
I haven’t followed Nash’s career—too much hurt there. But knowing now that his last album was a critical failure puts everything into focus. The label pressure. His flirting.
He’s trying to capitalize on her fame. Borrow some of her star power.
It’s why he keeps commenting on her posts with heart eyes and other stupid emojis used exclusively by grandmothers and little kids who stole their momma’s phone.
“Welcome to your first ‘Superstar Collaboration,’” Manny says to Lou. “But you need to remember—this is every bit as much your show as it is his. You hustled harder than anyone to get here, and you’veearnedyour place on this stage.”
He holds her eyes. “Got it?”
She blinks and nods wordlessly.
But I see it—the emotion in the way she bobs her head. And I feel it, too.
Manny looks at the rest of us. “Y’all, this will mostly resemble our tour, but Connor likes a lot more pyrotechnics than we’re used to, which is why we’re gonna rehearse again and again.”
“When’s Connor showing up?” the stage manager asks, looking at the clipboard.
“Sound check.”
“Sound check?” Lou can’t hide her shock. Or maybe she doesn’t want to. She gives a little laugh. “Okay, then.”
Her bandmates exchange looks, and Delilah puts a hand on her hip. “He commented with three lines of multi-colored hearts on your last post and said, ‘Be right there.’ Yet he didn’t show up for rehearsals yesterday or today?” Then they all look at Lou likethey’re lifelong friends. “No,” Delilah says, shaking her head. “If my boyfriend did that, I’d have a new one.”
“You know that’s right,” Bailey says, making Lou smile.
And just like that, leaving after this weekend feels a little more tolerable.
She’s surrounded by people who care about her, even if she’s been too afraid to let them in.
And I needed to see this.
Neededherto see it.
There are people who love her, who’ll look out for her.
But as I watch her laugh—watch her light up—I realize something else.
I’m not sure how I’ll leave at all.
We rehearse all morning, then take a quick break before sound check.
