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“I hope so.”
Rome grinned. “Can I assume that there’s a reason for this change? And if so, do I get to meet her.”
Jet threw his head back and laughed. “She’ll be at the sound check.”
“Awesome. I look forward to meeting this miracle woman then.”
When Jet was alone in his dressing room again, he thought about what Rome had said. Yeah. “Miracle woman” wasn’t a bad description for Abby. She’d certainly been his miracle.
The next several hours flew by in a haze.
He’d thought that seeing the rest of the guys would be awkward as hell, but it had been a non-issue. They’d each nodded, waved, or said, “hey,” and then they’d started sound check as usual. It felt totally normal to Jet. Just like any other show. Not weird at all. In fact, the weirdest thing about it was how not weird it was.
Well, it was normal for the early days, anyway. Over the last five years, their interactions had been tense as hell. That wasn’t a normal he ever wanted to go back to.
And, he couldn’t deny it. The difference was with him. He was the one that was more relaxed, more friendly, more of a team player. He had to take responsibility for the fact that he’d been the one to fuck things up.
But it wasn’t all bad. Now that he was getting clean, changing, he was also the one that was fixing it. Cleaning up his own mess. He liked the way that made him feel.
And the difference, he realized, was sitting right there in the third row as they ran through the set list and made adjustments, staring up at him with her wide, bright, supportive eyes.
He was lucky as fuck. A lot of people never got the chance to turn their lives around. One OD or one corner taken too fast when he was drunk, and he wouldn’t have, either.
Now, walking out on stage and hearing the roar of the crowd, he was filled with adrenaline and energy. God, this was so much better than any kind of substance-fueled high? How could he have forgotten that?
He stepped up and took his place center stage and put his mouth to the mic. He took a deep breath and boomed, “Are you ready to rock, Portland?” The answering swell of cheers told him that they were.
The lights made it tough to see individual faces in the crowd beyond the first few rows, so he was happy that he’d been able to secure his family and friends VIP passes.
Looking down, he saw his little sister’s face shining with pride and excitement as she waited for him to start singing, and his brothers giving him thumbs ups. Well, Troy and Donovan were, anyway. Gavin just gave him a stoic nod, which was his version an epic hi-five.
Next to Gavin and Donovan were their ladies, Gen and Ella, and next to them was his lady. Abby. It was almost beyond him, the realization that she was his. He didn’t deserve her. That wasn’t even a question. But he planned to spend the rest of his life working to be the best man he could, until one day maybe– just maybe– he’d come close.
The bass and drum swelled behind him, signaling the end of their first song’s intro, and his cue.
He opened his mouth and sang. The lyrics were so familiar, and so was the melody. So was the feeling of singing his heart out to the roaring crowd, for that matter. But in a way, it all felt new. Just like his interactions with the guys, it wasn’t the experience that had changed. He had. And he was even more determined than before to never go back.
