Our stage manager gives us a nod, and the band and I rush back out.
“Well, Red Rocks, are you ready for a little more magic?”
The crowd roars their answer, and we launch into a couple of upbeat songs, includingIt’s Always Sonny—the anthem my label used to insist I end my shows on. The audience sings along with so much energy, I almost give in. I’m tempted to let this be the ending, this high.
But since that night at Hot Strings Hall, I’ve always ended my set withLast Train to Midnight.
It feels like a love letter to my fans, a way to bare my soul one last time before the curtain falls.
I’m about to set down my guitar and turn for the piano when I notice a shift in the audience—a murmur, pointing, gasps, and then roaring applause.
I whip around.
And my jaw drops.
Someone is sitting at my piano bench.
Someone in a white T-shirt and jeans, with shaggy hair and scruff, whose mere presence has made the entire amphitheater lose their ever-loving minds.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered that my boyfriend agreed to join me on stage tonight or offended,” I say into my headset mic.
Patty laughs and leans into the stand mic near the piano. “Flattered. Your boyfriend has wanted to work up the nerve to play on stage with you for a long time. But you’re a tough act to follow, Lucy Jane.”
“So are you, Patrick O’Shannan.” I turn to the audience. “’Course, y’all know him better as Duncan, don’t you?”
The chorus ofWe love you’snearly knocks me over, but I laugh.
We all do.
Then Patty plays the first few notes. I strap my guitar back on and let my fingers fall into place—sure, steady—as we dive intoLast Train to Midnight.
When the final chord fades, we don’t need to speak. We just know.
Seamlessly, effortlessly, we move intoFirst Light.
The song we wrote together.
It was meant to be a duet, but I haven’t had the chance to perform it live or even record it yet. But I know, beyond doubt, that it will never sound better than it does right now.
Unrehearsed. Unexpected.
But inevitable.
Star light, star bright, hung like hope across the midnight sky
I close my eyes and wonder—will its warmth just pass me by
I've traced constellations, searched for love in faded light
Listened close for whispers, longing for a spark so bright
Then you appear, burning—soft and slow, afraid to shine
And suddenly, I’m yearning—praying that our stars will align
As we move into the chorus, I can’t help it—I drop my guitar and join Patty at the piano.
I stand next to him, facing the crowd, but with my hand on his shoulder, craving his presence.
