Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Dom made it through a light dinner at a tapas place the hotel concierge recommended before his nerves began taking over. Back at the hotel room, he called his parents for reassurance and to see how Lincoln was doing.
“He’s awake a lot more now but still complaining of headaches a lot,” Mom said. “The neurologist said it isn’t uncommon, though. They think he can be moved out of the ICU as early as tomorrow.”
“That’s great.” Dom relayed the news to the others in the room. “How’s Joshua?”
“He’s going home in the morning. With Benji, I should say. Joshua doesn’t want his parents to take care of him, so he’s going to move in with Benji and his folks for a while.”
The decision didn’t surprise Dom much. Joshua wasn’t super close with his family, but he adored Benji’s.
Trey flagged his attention and pointed at his wrist. Time to head down.
Acid filled Dom’s stomach. “I gotta go, Mom.”
“Maybe it’s not the best phrase with the accident so fresh, but break a leg, honey. We’ll be watching.”
“Thanks.”
He hung up, then snagged his violin case.
They’d decided to wear black jeans and black sleeveless tees that helped their matching rice necklaces stand out.
He fingered the glass charm, remembering the flash of love he’d felt when Trey told him what he’d had painted on the tiny piece of rice.
Something beautiful and uniquely theirs.
“See you guys after,” Trey said.
On the way out the door, Dom got fist bumps from Andy and Bobby, and a quick hug from Danielle. He didn’t know or care how much Trey had told them about why this was so important to Dom, only that they seemed to get it. And Trey was right—Bobby was a pretty cool guy when he wasn’t pissed at you.
The performance hall was only half a block away, its corridors swarming with people—musicians, family and friends of musicians, and probably a ton of press and agents and other industry professionals from all over the country. Unbound might be in its freshman year, but it was a big fucking deal.
Trey seemed to remember where Emily had told the showcase acts to go in order to get backstage to the green room, so Dom allowed him to lead.
A few times they paused to chat with fans who recognized one of them or the other.
Dom noticed a few program signs announcing the sudden change in the indie rock categories for both the showcase and the competition.
He tugged Trey to a stop in the crowded lobby and stared at the name listed for the showcase. “Off Beat?”
“It seemed appropriate.” Trey grinned. “It’s where we met and first played together.”
“True. I like it.”
“Good.” Trey shocked the hell out of him by pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
They ended up tumbling into the familiar green room at exactly 7:15, the latest that the showcase acts were expected to arrive for a pre-performance meeting with Emily, Anthony Kross, and some of the tech staff.
Because of the sheer number of performances in a four-hour block of time, everyone got one song, no longer than four minutes and thirty seconds.
Someone projected the schedule onto the wall, high enough and large enough that everyone could see it.
Indie rock was the second category up, and Off Beat was listed as first.
Dom clutched his violin case to his chest, his insides going squirrelly. He’d stood in this green room once, more than six years ago, just as nervous as he was now. He had been one giant bundle of nerves, terrified of screwing up and disappointing his teacher.
Now he was terrified of screwing up and disappointing Trey. Even though he knew their song backward and forward, anything could go wrong. He could freeze. The lights could go out. His strings could break.
Trey cupped his cheeks in both palms and leveled steady green eyes on him. “Stop it.”
Dom blinked hard. “What?”
“Stop overthinking this. Stop expecting something to go wrong. We are going to be as amazing on that stage as we are over FaceTime. Better than.”
“I know. I do, I promise. It’s just . . .”
“It’s a big deal.”
“Right.”
Trey tugged his head lower so they were at complete eye level.
“He’s not here. He’s far, far away, and the only thing that will happen after tonight is we celebrate.
We celebrate you going up on that stage and rocking it out with me.
We celebrate that we found each other and we’re here, together. Hear me?”
“Yes. I hear you.” Dom inhaled a long breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. Some of the acid quieted, and the dull roar of the packed room overpowered the doubts in his head. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Trey kissed him, a more meaningful press of lips than the peck in the lobby. “Love you.”
Dom grinned. “Love you too.”
They spent the next hour and a half chatting with other groups, listening to stories, and basically making time pass.
Dom stuck close to Trey, occasionally twining their fingers together, and Trey never pulled back.
Never gave a single hint that the open displays of affection bothered him.
Unbound wasn’t over, but he was already making good on a promise.
A pair of women who seemed vaguely familiar wound their way over to him and Trey. They introduced themselves, and Dom recalled meeting them briefly at the previous Unbound. They played country music, and after some innocuous chitchat, one of the girls glanced at his and Trey’s joined hands.
“So are you two, like, together?” she asked. “I thought you were in different bands?”
“Yes to both,” Trey said before Dom could answer. “Dom’s band made the competition this weekend, but they were in a car accident a few days ago.”
Dom couldn’t restrain a shiver at those awful memories.
“That sucks,” the girl said. “So you guys are what? Doing the showcase in their name?”
“Something like that,” Dom replied. Yes, he was going out there tonight to represent XYZ. But more than that, Dom was performing for himself.
“Well, break a leg then, guys. And you’re totally adorable together.”
Trey flushed pink.
Dom smacked a wet kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. I didn’t expect you to be so open about us tonight.”
Trey pinned him with an intent look. “Babe, everything about tonight is for us. Besides, the minute we start playing, everyone in the audience will know how I feel about you.”
Pride curled around Dom’s heart, and he stole another kiss. “Ditto.”
One of the techs called for Off Beat to come to the stage door.
A tremor buzzed down Dom’s spine. He followed Trey over to the door.
A tech held the violin case for him while Dom removed his beloved instrument and bow.
He’d already tuned her back in the room.
Trey’s keyboard would be set and ready for him when they were introduced.
Emily waved them forward through the door. Music drifted to him from the stage, a fantastic alt cover of “Dark Horse.” They walked through shadows to a bank of black curtains. Beyond them were the polished stage floor and glaring lights.
Dom didn’t remember the exact size or shape of the auditorium. He’d been too nervous back then to bother looking out at the audience. All he’d wanted to do was play and then hide until the winners were announced.
Today Dom waited to walk out on that stage with his boyfriend and play together for the world to see, and it wasn’t about winning.
He’d already won something incredibly valuable.
Playing with Trey was the final step in reclaiming his life, his emotions, and his future.
It was a chance of a lifetime, and there was no person on earth he’d rather be sharing the moment with than Trey.
The band onstage finished to thunderous applause.
Dom would have clapped, too, if his hands weren’t full.
Techs scurried around to reset the stage while Emily took a microphone.
She didn’t go onstage, though, as she began speaking.
“Our next showcase is a last-minute addition to the lineup. Due to tragic circumstances, one of our regional finalists, XYZ, was unable to compete this weekend. However, one member of that group is here to tonight to perform with a member of the now-competing group Fading Daze.”
Trey’s keyboard was out there, along with two mikes on stands.
Dom swallowed hard.
“Please join me in welcoming Off Beat to the stage!”
Trey squeezed his wrist, then led the way. Dom tried not to flinch under the sudden glare of the stage lights. Applause rolled over him, a very welcome and familiar sound—only a thousand times louder than anything he remembered. Trey stood behind his keyboard and flipped a few switches.
Dom walked alone to the center microphone.
He stood under the lights, the sounds of the crowd slowly fading, and imagined his parents in the audience, so incredibly proud of him.
He pictured Lincoln there with Roxy and Starr and Taisha and Percell.
Benji and Joshua. Tyson. Andy, Danielle, and Bobby were out there for real, cheering them on.
He glanced back at Trey, who winked.
Dom raised his violin to his shoulder and pressed his chin against the rest. Positioned his fingers and the bow. And waited.
Trey keyed the opening chords of “My Immortal” so elegantly that Dom had to swallow a lump in his throat.
He pulled his bow across strings and fell into the song he loved so much.
Dom played with everything in him, drawing music out of himself and his instrument as though it was an extension of himself.
A beautiful, living thing filling the space around them. Charging the air he breathed.
Time lasted for infinity in that song, and then it was winding down. Dom pulled the last note as Trey hummed the final few beats. He met Trey’s eyes over his shoulder, surprised to see tears there.
Eventually Dom became aware of the cheers and whistles from the audience, but he couldn’t acknowledge them yet.
Couldn’t take a bow, because Trey was walking toward him, pride and love radiating in every step.
Dom handed his violin off to one of the techs already resetting the stage. She’d be safe enough for a few minutes.
Trey tugged him into a full-bodied hug that said everything he couldn’t over the roar of continued applause. Dom clung, heart hammering, so fucking proud of himself and his man.
He didn’t expect it, but Dom should have figured out that Trey had put it all on the table for him.
For them. Because Trey pulled back just far enough to kiss him soundly on that stage, in front of God and witnesses, and it was pretty much perfect.
Dom laughed, so much joy inside that he had to let it out.
They spared a moment to bow, and then raced offstage, both of them still laughing, hugging, touching as much as possible. Trey towed him right through the green room to the empty corridor outside.
“I got hard watching you play,” Trey said. He tugged Dom into his arms, and Dom felt the truth of that statement against his thigh. “Half of the men in that audience probably got stiff, and the women? Wet seats all over the house.”
Dom snorted at the crude statements. “I can’t even describe how that felt.”
“I can see it all over your face. You’re glowing.”
He pressed his forehead to Trey’s and closed his eyes, wanting to savor the performance high for as long as possible. “Glad it was you, babe.”
“Me too.” One of Trey’s hands curled around the back of Dom’s neck. “That was.”
“Yeah.” Dom touched the glass vial over Trey’s heart. “Yeah, that was.”