Epilogue
Seven Months Later
I takea deep breath and tighten my hold on Oliver’s hand. In return, he gives me subtle reassurances with small strokes of his thumb along the length of mine.
Those gentle caresses are my favorite.
With a single touch, without saying a word, Oliver soothes my anxiety. A true balm to my soul, he always knows the right thing to say or do in every moment.
Hundreds of people mill about at the amphitheater. The aroma of salty and sweet fried treats floats through the air. Balloons are blown and twisted into animals, hats, or swords. People wait in lines for the dunk tank, jumbo-sized Jenga and Connect 4, Twister with the dots painted on the grass, cornhole, and more. Laughter and buoyant conversation blend with loud music played by a local DJ.
The pre-summer sun warms our skin and boosts everyone’s mood. The entire town and countless tourists are present and excited for Stone Bay’s annual Memorial Day festival.
As for me, I’m equal parts thrilled and uneasy.
Since mid-October, Oliver has helped me ease into group social situations. Most of them involved our core friends—Skylar, Lawrence, Kirsten, Travis, Delilah, and Phoebe. Occasionally, Delilah’s siblings would join the fold and share a meal or celebration with us. What I love most about our circle is we don’t treat each other differently because of past circumstances.
Some of us have been through crazy shit. Those moments changed our outlook on life. Opened our eyes and made us see just how precious life is. Earlier this year, Skylar, Kirsten, Delilah, and I joked about forming our own recovery group. Just the four of us. Soon thereafter, I got a message from Delilah—a group chat text.
Dee Dee
For those moments when we need to get heavy stuff off our chest
The chat gets used a couple times a month. Most of the conversations are about things we have discussed with our significant other but want comfort from someone who has been in our shoes.
“My stomach is ready to eat itself. What about yours?” Oliver’s question snaps me out of my introspection.
“Yeah. Skimped on breakfast so I could eat my weight in grease and sugar today.” I chuckle.
God, it feels good to laugh easily now.
“Brats, shrimp, donut burgers, tacos, some fancy French word I can’t pronounce,” Oliver says as he points to different food tents. “Ooh, the bacon and potato tent.”
He tightens his grip and hauls me toward the mile-long line.
“Nervous about playing today?”
Hailey’s Fire has played a handful of shows since Dalton’s on July 5th. When I was taken, everything band-related was canceled until further notice. No shows. No band practices. Hell, I hadn’t heard Oliver play anything on his own until a few months ago.
As much as I wanted to ask him why, I never did. Deep down, I knew the answer. His need to distance himself from his music had many layers. It’s difficult to write or play something when your mind isn’t in the right headspace. Like other creative art forms, you have to feel it, connect with it. Otherwise, it falls flat.
“A little.” Oliver tips his head from side to side. “I know I can do it. The Fall Fest and shows we’ve played at Dalton’s over the past few months prove as much.” He shrugs. “Just feels weird to be on a big stage again.”
“I’ll be front and center if it helps.”
Oliver, Trip, and Hailey managed to convince the event coordinators—my mom and Marilyn Langston—to make a VIP section right in front of the stage. Enough space for our group and select family members to sit close and enjoy Hailey’s Fire comfortably without fighting the crowd.
Turning into my side, Oliver rests his chin on my shoulder. “It does.”
We shuffle forward in line. I point to the chalkboard menu as it comes into view. “What sounds good?”
“All of it.” He laughs. “But I shouldn’t eat too much before we play.” He straightens and studies the options. “Hmm. Maybe the loaded potato tornado.” Leaning back into my side, he kisses my neck. “What about you?”
I tilt my head from side to side as I decide between my top two choices. “The pierogi sampler.” I nod.
Minutes later, we place our order. When Oliver’s name is called, we both go wide-eyed as we take in the huge portions.
“Let’s go find everyone and chill for a bit.”
Winding our way through the crowd, I startle when a little girl with face paint disguising her features bolts past us and bumps my hip. A man calls after her and apologizes as he jogs past us.
Needing a moment, I pause, take a few deep breaths, and count with each one.
Inhale… one, two, three.
Exhale… three, two, one.
Oliver grazes the top of my hand with his finger. The simple touch steals my attention and assuages my distress. I glance down at our hands and smile. Comfort and pleasure blanket me head to toe as I stare at the silver glinting in the sunlight. A solid silver band on his left forefinger and a matching one on my right. Our promise to each other until we choose another ring in the future and one of my few touchstones.
“Better?”
I lift my gaze as I lace my fingers with his. “Better,” I repeat in affirmation.
We meet up with everyone in the VIP area by the stage. All our friends are present except for Travis, who is working the event. Also joining us are Oliver’s parents, Delilah’s siblings, and Tymber. Later, the Messer family will join us. We eat and chat, catching up since we last spoke or saw one another.
As it nears time for Hailey’s Fire to take the stage, I notice other smaller closed-off sections near the stage. When I read the signs on a few, I chuckle under my breath. West. Langston. Barron. Calhoun. Kemp. There isn’t a section for each founding family—not all of them want to be feet from the stage during a rock concert—but the families that want their name in the limelight paid for their own VIP experience.
Whatever. The money just gets funneled back into the town.
I don’t miss that the Calhoun section is next to ours. Joy.
The last time I saw Abigail was a week before Christmas in the grocery store. Oliver and I were loading a cart with way too much food, excited about our first Christmas together as a couple. When we rounded the end of the baking aisle, our cart almost rammed hers… and Desmond’s.
She apologized profusely, although I think it was for more than our carts almost colliding. Desmond and Oliver remained stoic, and I stayed tight-lipped as she rambled.
It was awkward as fuck. But it was closure for me and her. The end of an uncomfortable chapter in our lives.
If Abigail sits in the section beside ours, I pray Desmond is with her. After everything they’ve been through as a couple, he deserves to love her out in the open.
“Wish me luck.” Oliver leans in and presses his lips to mine.
I try to deepen the kiss, but he breaks it before I’m able. I push out my bottom lip.
“Not that you need it”—I fist his T-shirt and press my lips to his with a chaste kiss—“but good luck.”
Oliver, Hailey, and Trip exit VIP and head for the stairs on the side of the stage. As they do one last instrument check, the seats under the amphitheater canopy fill with enthusiastic residents and visitors. Abigail and Desmond enter the Calhoun section, hand in hand, followed by her brother and nephew, Ray III and Tucker. James, Estrella, and Sydney Messer join us in our VIP section. As Tymber sparks a conversation with James and Estrella, I check in with Sydney.
Of the hundreds of people who were in the same situation, Sydney is the only person I’ve spoken to.
A few months ago, her parents reached out to Tymber and asked if I would speak with them. Sydney was struggling to readjust to her previous life. Not that I blame her; she’d been in hell twice as long as me. Her parents asked if I’d be okay with meeting sometime. They thought that Sydney might have an easier time recovering if she had someone in her life that related.
Over the past three months, I gained a little sister. In return, Sydney has reclaimed part of herself. We may have connected because of our trauma, but it isn’t the only reason we talk anymore. Oliver showed me what a real family looks like. Love and happiness. A place where you belong.
With Sydney, I’ve discovered something similar. A sibling of sorts. Someone I connect with in a familial way. A support system for years to come. I may limit what I share with her about my experiences during that time, but when she has dark days, she has someone to lean on or chat with who understands.
“Happy fucking Memorial Day, Stone Bay.”
Applause and whistles fill the air as Hailey hollers into the mic. I snap my eyes to the stage and lock onto Oliver behind his drum kit.
“Sorry, parents. This isn’t a PG show.” She laughs. “But I’ll try to keep the curse words to a minimum.”
The crowd joins in on her laughter.
“It’s been almost a year since we’ve been on this stage.” She presses a hand to her heart and taps a couple times. “We’re so grateful to be here.” With a small step back, she peeks over her shoulder at Oliver and nods.
Energetic rock music booms around us for the next forty-five minutes. Sweat soaks Oliver’s shirt. Trip bangs his head throughout most of the set. Lyrics rip from Hailey’s lips as her fingers crank out notes on her guitar. When she’s not singing, Hailey jumps around on the stage or leans against Trip as they play.
When the song they usually play last comes to an end, I clap and cheer and give Oliver the biggest smile. He winks and drops his sticks near the bass drum.
“We love you, Stone Bay.”
Deafening cheers echo through the amphitheater.
“Before we leave the stage, we’ve got one more for you.”
My gaze flits to Oliver and I furrow my brows.
Oliver rises from his seat and smiles as he joins Hailey and Trip at the front of the stage. Stools and mics are set up. A stagehand brings them each an acoustic guitar.
A low hum dances under my skin as I watch him settle on the stool. As Oliver quietly chats with Hailey and Trip a moment, I think back to the last time he stepped out from behind his drums.
In a couple weeks, it will be a year since that night. When I drove to Smoky Creek and listened to him play his acoustic guitar and croon lyrics about life and love and us. That night was the first time I kissed him in public and didn’t care who saw us.
“Fallen Stars.”
A song he wrote for us. A song I haven’t heard him play since that night. A song that got me through some of the darkest nights of my life last year.
Eyes closed and chin tucked close to his chest, Oliver strums the opening chords of the song. But it isn’t “Fallen Stars.” Hailey and Trip pluck strings on their guitars and sway to the melody.
I know this song.
How do I know this song?
“A shocking surprise, you came out of left field. Broody and quiet with undeniable appeal.” Oliver’s fingers shift on the neck of the guitar. “A nameless boy, that’s who I was. Then our eyes met”—he lifts his head and meets my eyes—“and the world stopped and stumbled.”
The backs of my eyes sting and I swallow.
“Blue, you branded my heart. Reserved, you tattooed my soul.”
The tempo slows as Oliver tucks his chin once more.
“Hoarder of game pieces, you always needed control.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he becomes one with his guitar.
“Even then, we danced in the shadows. Pretenders. Impostors. Lovers in disguise.”
Saliva pools in my mouth as emotion swells in my throat.
“And all I wanted was to be your light.”
Since the day Oliver entered my life, he has always been my light. A voice of reason. The one person I could always count on. The one person that made me want to be a better version of myself. My biggest motivator, advocate, friend, and hero.
“I’ll take the long road. Spend forever on your right.”
Again, he lifts his head. His brilliant green eyes lock onto and hold my blues.
“Be yours until the end. But only if you’re mine.”
Vision blurry, I mouth, forever mine.
A bright, toothy smile spreads across his face.
“Take my hand and never let go. Spend forever on my left. Be my home.”
The melody slows once more.
“Let me be your light, be your light, be your light.” He closes his eyes as the drawn-out notes float through the air. “Say you’re mine, always mine, forever mine.” His dazzling blues meet my blurry gaze. “Forever mine.”
The final chord echoes around the silent crowd. And then everything comes alive as whistles and cheers fill the amphitheater.
Frozen in place, my eyes don’t leave Oliver.
Freed of his guitar, he rises from his stool, takes Hailey and Trip’s hands, and bows. Then he hops off the stage into VIP and weaves between everyone to reach me. Wrapping his arms around my middle, he lifts me off the ground and kisses me as if no one is watching.
When I’m back on my feet, I frame his face with my hands. “When did you write that?”
He rests his hands on my hips and keeps me close. “Been working on it for years but finished it about a month ago.”
“How do I know the song but not the lyrics?”
Oliver rolls his lips between his teeth. “Before you left for college, I played part of it in your room.” A faint blush colors his cheeks. “I hummed while I sang the lyrics in my head. When I finished, you made a comment and freaked me out. I thought maybe I’d sung them out loud. But I didn’t.”
“I think I loved you then,” I confess. “But I was scared to admit it.”
“I know I loved you then, moje srce.” He presses his lips to mine. “But I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
My thumbs slowly stroke his cheeks. “Yours until the end, moj zauvjek.”
“Mr. Ollie! Mr. Ollie!” a young boy shouts.
Oliver and I break apart and he peeks over his shoulder to see Tucker Calhoun jumping in place. Smile on his face, Oliver walks to the wall separating our section from the Calhouns.
“Hey, man!” Oliver holds up his hand for a high five. “Tucker, right?”
His jaw drops as his eyes grow impossibly wide. “You know my name?”
Oliver chuckles. “Yeah, I do.”
“Wow.” Tucker slaps Oliver’s hand. “Will you sign my T-shirt?” He taps the white fabric and brandishes a marker.
“Tucker…” Ray mutters.
Oliver smiles and looks at Ray. “It’s no bother.” He shifts his attention back to Tucker. “In fact, I think it’s supercool.” Oliver takes the marker from Tucker. “This is my first autograph. Ever.”
“Whoa! I’m the first person to ask for your autograph?”
“Yep.” Oliver uncaps the marker and scribbles his signature on the cotton. “Which means it’s the most valuable.”
When Oliver finishes, Tucker stares down at the black squiggles. “Never washing this shirt.”
“Thanks, man.” Ray holds out his hand and Oliver takes it. “You made his year.”
“Glad I made him smile.” Oliver shifts his attention back to Tucker. “See ya around, Tucker. Be good for your dad.”
He nods emphatically. “I will, Mr. Ollie.”
When they walk away, Oliver turns to me and smiles. “First fan.”
Slowly, I shake my head and point to my chest. “Number one, right here.”
Oliver reaches for my hand and laces our fingers. “True.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “More potatoes and bacon, then home?”
“Yes. Feed me and then take me home.” I tighten my hold on him. “I need to hear that song again.”
“Anything for you, moje srce.”
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Up next in the Stone Bay series… Stolen Dreams. You haven’t met the heroine yet—Kaya Imala—but you’ve gotten glimpse of Ray Calhoun III and his son, Tucker. Get Stolen Dreams now!