As we continue down the line, each Storm Chaser tells their story, and every one chips away at the walls I’ve built around myself. I can feel the anxiety fading, replaced by a sense of belonging—not just with the band, but with these people who have connected with us in ways I never expected.
Finally, we reach the last fan in the line, a girl who can’t be more than thirteen. She’s clutching a scrapbook, her eyes wide as she steps forward. “I made this for you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.
I take the book from her, flipping through the pages filled with photos, lyrics, and artwork—everything dedicated to me. Each page is a testament to how much my songs mean to her, and my throat tightens with emotion.
“It’s beautiful,” I say softly, running my fingers over a drawing she’s done of me and the guys. “Thank you so much.”
Her eyes shine with pride, and she grins up at me. “I just wanted to give something back, you know? For everything you’ve given me.”
I close the scrapbook gently, handing it back to her with a warm smile. “You already have.”
As we finish the meet and greet, the fans start to leave, their excited chatter echoing in the hallway. I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the tension finally melting away. Darius steps up beside me, his gaze lingering on the retreating fans.
“You did good, Raina,” he says quietly.
I glance over at him, offering a small smile. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
Nash chuckles from behind me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Told you. Your fans love you.”
Keaton gives me a soft smile, his hand brushing against mine in a brief but reassuring gesture. “They’re here for you. We all are.”
And for the first time in a long time, I believe it.
“Seems like everything went well. What do you think?” Gill asks, her smiling face bringing me an unexpected sense of joy. I can’t help but match it.
“It really did. Thank you for helping to pick the right fans.” I’m not sure why I do it, but I reach out and give her a quick hug.”How did you know I had anything to do with it?” she asks, a little flustered by my affection.
“Because you wouldn’t have left something like that up to chance. You care about your job too much,” I tell her.
She quickly glances at the ground before looking at me again, pink tinging her cheeks. “So, does that mean we can add a few more next time?”
“That would be great.” Saying yes almost feels like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. I’m reclaiming everything I love about music, one step at a time.
“I’ll make sure it happens.” She looks at her watch, checking the time. “Carmen should be getting close to being done, then we’ll get the stage reset for your performance if you want to catch any other pre rituals before show time.”
“Thanks, Gill. You’re the best!” I turn to the guys, making sure they all heard her. “Let’s head back to the dressing room.”
We make our way through the halls and take a shortcut that leads us into the backstage area. Carmen’s whiny voice reaches me, making me instantly wince with the sharpness of it. Someone should really turn her mic down.
“Thank you, thank you, everyone!” She blows the fakest kisses toward the audience. It doesn’t pass me by that it’s a cheap carbon copy of my Pucker Perfect face, which I’m deciding right fucking now that I’m dropping it.
It’s stupid. I hate it. I won’t do it again.
“We had a break from the tour the past five days, and I’ve had a chance to record some new songs. Would you like to hear my new single hitting the radio today?” The crowd cheers, but I groan. I’m surprised she got any work done being at that hell hole with Dickless and no doubt Napalm Delights.
The backtrack of her song plays through the speakers and I turn to get at least a few minutes of peace and quiet before I have to get on stage myself.
I’ve almost made it through the maze of stage crew and instrument cases when her words hit me like a freight train. She’s singing my song. The one we painstakingly pieced together the music for until it was perfect. I freeze in place, unable to tellif I’m actually living in some kind of nightmare that I need to wake myself up from.
My suffering spews out of her mouth, an upbeat party anthem track making it sound fun instead of agonizing.
Anger flares inside me, raw and potent. My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms until I bleed. But it’s nothing compared to the way my heart is cut open, bared for all to see.
“Nash!” I hiss, grabbing his arm since he’s closest and demanding his attention. At the same time, the others tune in to me, their eyes on me in question. It should make me happy that they all automatically tune out from hearing that bitch whenever they can, but I need them to know my agony without the added insult of having to explain it. “Listen.”
My heart pounds in my chest, a sickening lurch of betrayal settling in my stomach. I point behind me to the stage where Carmen’s garish figure prances about, belting out the words that came from the darkest corners of my soul. The audience eats it up, oblivious to the theft they’re witnessing.
Nash glances at me, confusion crinkling his forehead before he turns his gaze toward the stage. Comprehension dawns on his features, his face seemingly melting of all the playfulness that makes himNash,leaving behind a blank slate.
