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Cal was undone.
His massive shoulders were tight, jaw clenched like he was trying to hold himself together. But his eyes — God, his eyes were wet. Not soft. Not gentle. Raw. Like every wall he’d ever built had just been torn down by the woman he loved singing her truth straight into his soul. A single tear tracked down his cheek and he didn’t even bother wiping it away. He just stared at her like she was the miracle he’d waited forty-six years to deserve.
The final chord rang out.
The bar erupted — shouting, whistling, stomping boots on the floor. Someone yelled, “Hell, yeah!” and the whole place seemed to shake with it.
Sage wiped her own eyes, laughing shakily, cheeks flushed and glowing. She unslung her guitar, stepped off the stage, and walked straight into Cal’s open arms.
He crushed her against his chest without a word, one huge hand cupping the back of her head, the other splayed across her lower back like he’d never let go. His heart hammered against her cheek, fast and wild.
“You…” His voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper against her hair. “Sage…baby…”
She just held him tighter, breathing him in, the roar of the bar fading into background noise.
“I love you,” she said softly.
He held her tighter, holding her in his arms as the bar cheered around her.
“I love you too, sweetheart”
She smiled.
I know, baby. I know.
Sage stayed wrapped in Cal’s massive arms for a long heartbeat, letting the roar of the bar wash over them. His heartbeat thundered steady and strong against her cheek while whistles, stomping boots, and scattered shouts of “Play another, missy!” drifted through the warm haze of string lights and neon beer signs.
When she finally pulled back, he kept one huge hand at the small of her back, like he couldn’t quite let her go. Together they walked toward the long table, the crowd parting with smiles and raised glasses.
The family exploded the second they got close.
Mary Sue was on her feet first, eyes shining, that rare full smile breaking across her face like sunrise. She pulled Sage into a fierce hug that smelled of rosewater, diner coffee, and home. “My girl,” she whispered, voice thick. “You sang like you were setting something free. I’m so damn proud of you.” She kissed Sage’s temple, then did it again, like she couldn’t help herself.
Annie was right behind her, already crying happy tears. She wrapped Sage up tight. “That was beautiful. The way you took that song and made it yours… I felt every word. You’re magic, Sage. Real magic.”
“Thanks, Annie, I was—”
Isabelle rushed her like a freight train, curvy body wrapping around Sage completely.
“I knew it! I knew—” She took a shaky breath but couldn’t stop the tears. “You wrote that for him—you—” Isabelle was sobbing, mascara running in two beautiful black tracks down her cheeks while her hair somehow stayed perfect. “I am so—fuck—I am so proud of you—”
“Izzy—”
“No. No, you don’t get to downplay this. I have to—” She gave up on words and just buried her face against Sage’s neck, shoulders shaking. Sage held her right back, breathing in the familiar scent of Isabelle’s perfume mixed with whiskey and pine.
“Thanks, Sis. Thank you for making me bring the guitar. I love you.”
“I love you more,” Izzy said wet and fierce against her shoulder. “I’m taking you to New York. I’m putting you on a stage, Sage Thompson—you don’t understand—”
“Izzy, breathe—”
“I will not breathe—”
A throat cleared politely.
Michael had appeared at Sage’s right, producing a clean Mario Brothers handkerchief like other men produce keys. He offered it to Isabelle with a blush.
Isabelle took it, pressed it to her face, and still didn’t let go of Sage.
