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“Harrison wrote a great song,” I say. “That’s why I credit him every night.”

His grin falters.

“You should try writing one worth arguing about.”

Miles looks away to hide a laugh.

Jonny’s face hardens.

I clap him once on the shoulder.

“Enjoy the show.”

I walk toward the stage, and Luca catches up with me near the steps, tugging his boot back on over a bare foot. None of us wear socks onstage. Haven’t in years. Somewhere along the way it became bad luck, and although not one of us can remember exactly why, nobody’s been stupid enough to test it.

“We’re changing the set.”

“Yes.”

“You want to open with it.”

I hand him the revised list.

Sun on Glass is at the top.

“You sure?” he asks.

I look toward Bea.

She hasn’t taken her eyes off me.

“Completely.”

* * *

The second I step beneath the lights, everything else falls away.

Jonny. My father. The house two miles down the road. All of it.

There’s only the low hum of the amplifier, the weight of the guitar against my body, and a room full of people waiting.

This moment.

The breath before the first note.

I fucking love it.

“How are we doing, Mountain Springs?”

The response hits me in the chest.

Luca looks across the stage, grinning.

I grin back.

There he is.

My bassist. My brother in every way that matters.