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The memories we’ll never get…
Your flame is too bright to be missed…
It burns inside of me…
And is the only reason I exist.
It is your name that will be
forever whispered by my lips…
I’ll never forget…
all the precious moments we shared…
The love, the laughter, the feelings…
The memories I’ll never regret…
You gave me my voice, my spirit, my fight…
All I want is for you to hold
me for one more night…
You were my light…
the most precious part of my life…
and the sole reason I’ve continued to fight.
I take a moment to relish the crowd’s applause before I open my eyes and direct them to the third row back from the stage. The members of Rise Up are far from country artists, but they’re here, waiting to see if I’ll receive an award again this year because they will forever support me as I will them.
After blowing them an air kiss to thank them for their unwavering support, I apologize to the production assistant vying to get me off the stage so the stage crew can set up the next performance, before I hotfoot it through the thick stage curtains. The award everyone is waiting on is minutes from being announced.
I’m barely two feet away from the curtains when the vultures of the media circle me. Their interests haven’t waned in the slightest over the past eighteen months. They’ve watched me stumble, then documented my resurrection with just as much footage.
“Nicole, is it true Rise Up showed up tonight to dispel claims Marcus is set to marry this weekend?”
When a camera is shoved in my face, I politely push it back before replying with the standard, “No comment.”
“Nicole, what do you think your chances are of another Artist of the Year award?”
I dodge the blinding lights hindering my vision while answering, “If you’d let me back to my seat, time will soon tell.”
I give up on my endeavor when another question is flung at me: “Nicole, are you less confident because the shy girls are always shoved to the back of the pack?”
“Shy? My ass. There isn’t a shy bone in her entire body.” My heart beats in an irregular pattern when the paparazzi part like the Red Sea until they expose the face of the man denying their insinuation that I’m shy. “Believe me, I’ve inspected every single inch.”
Laken smiles boastfully when he spots the heat creeping up my neck before he uses the walkway the paps created to join me in the wings of the stage.
The bullet that zipped through his body and narrowly missed several vital organs doesn’t impede the sexiness of his swagger in the slightest. It barely kept him in the hospital. He discharged himself on day three so he could return to Ravenshoe with me to attend a meeting with the current DA, who reopened my sister’s case since the last one did such a terrible job.
Knox survived the rooftop raid, and although he foolishly believed double jeopardy would come into play, he forgot one crucial part of his live confession.
He admitted to killing my unborn niece or nephew.
There are laws against that in my home state—laws the newly appointed DA of Ravenshoe used to ensure justice was served to the right people this time around.
