Chapter Eighteen
Paige
“It was probably one of the best nights of my life,” I say, settling onto the old bench tucked beneath the willow trees.
Picking at the seam of my shorts, I let the LA sun warm my face.
“You know I’ve always had this rush hearing other people sing my songs, listening to the crowd chant them back to the artist I wrote them for.
But being the one on stage? Actually living it? ”
I pause, drawing a slow breath.
“It was…everything,” I whisper.
Even with everything that happened that night, I can’t stop thinking about how alive I felt up there. And in just a week, we get to do it nearly every night. New cities, new crowds…Maddox five feet away.
The adrenaline’s only recently faded, the echo of crowd’s screams now living deep in my chest, stitched into my ribs forever.
A soft wind brushes through from the field beyond us, the view stunningly picturesque from the bench, lifting strands of my hair across my face.
I tuck them back, smiling as I close my eyes, replaying every second of the show last week.
The flashing lights, the fans stretching out as far as I could see, the high like nothing else.
“I wish I could understand him, y’know?” Opening my eyes, I shift sideways, one leg tucked beneath me, the other hooking over the edge, fingers absently tracing the worn wood beside me.
“I just feel like there’s something between us, like a spark or something.
But it’s just so complicated, y’know? I don’t know what I’m doing with him.
One second, I want to throat-punch him, and the next, I find him looking at me like I’m the only thing worth watching on stage.
And I feel his stare everywhere, Penny. Not to mention, that almost-kiss… ”
I half-laugh, half-huff, shaking my head to dislodge the memory of his hand on my hip. “It would’ve been a mistake if anything happened. Screwing a bandmate would never work out. Even if I do find the lead singer infuriatingly attractive.”
So why can’t I stop thinking about how his lips would have felt against mine? And why can’t I shake away the disappointment that I never got to?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me, and I dig it out, checking the caller ID. I swipe across the screen, putting it on speaker.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, clearing my throat, along with all thoughts of Maddox Knox’s mouth, shoving it to the back of my head where I can’t obsess over it anymore. “What’s up?”
“Hey, honey, I’m making your favorite for dinner tonight and thought I’d call to see if you wanted to join?” Mom asks. “Your dad and I want to hear all about your first live performance.”
Pride radiates through the phone.
“Sure,” I say, pushing to my feet. “I was just finishing up here.”
“Oh, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
I shake my head, dusting the back of my pants with one hand. “No, just visiting Penny.”
There’s a warm sigh from the other end of the call before she softly says, “Tell my girl I love her. And I’ll see you soon.”
It lands differently today, heavier. Not in a bad way, just…more.
Looking over at my sister, I roll my eyes, a smile tugging onto my lips as I hang up. “Guess you heard that, huh? Anyway, I better get going. God knows if I don’t get there when Mom’s dishing up, Dad will take more than his portion size.”
Pulling out my keys, I make the short walk to the car and slide behind the wheel.
Jabbing the start button, the engine humming to life, I drive out of the lot toward my parents’ place.
Trees blur, old songs play low on the stereo, and by the time I pull into the driveway, the sun’s dipped low enough to cast everything in a golden glow.
My childhood home hasn’t changed much in the past twenty-four years. Not even after Mom and Dad became the industry’s favorite power couple. It’s still modest, still white brick with trimmed hedges so perfectly they look laser-cut, and too many solar lights lining the path like a private runway.
I grab my bag and head up the walkway, the crunch of gravel loud under my sneakers, the sound of jazz spilling out into the hallway from the kitchen as I step inside.
“Mom?” I call out, peeling off my jacket and slinging it over the entryway hook.
“In here, honey,” comes the familiar reply, and I follow the low music and the scent of garlic into the kitchen, pausing at the doorway, watching the scene play out before me.
Predictable as ever, like every night since I can remember, Mom stands at the counter, slicing bread with the same precision she applies to every deal that crosses her desk at the label, while Dad leans against the fridge, red wine in hand, telling her about his day.
Even with their daughters no longer home, they’ve still stuck to the whole family-first rule they implemented when work started piling up.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says as I step farther inside.
“Twenty-four, Dad,” I remind him, placing my bag onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
With a grin, he pulls me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Still my baby. Always will be.”
I roll my eyes as I slide onto the stool when he lets me go.
“Saw some clips from the show,” he says, eyeing his tablet on the counter, already moving to pour me a glass of wine. “Tell us everything.”
Mom sets her knife down, wiping her hands on a towel, nodding. “You’re a natural, Paige.”
Sitting up a little straighter, my chest swells as warmth blooms, growing quickly as my parents discuss the set.
“We’ve watched whatever we’ve managed to find online,” Mom gushes, folding the towel and placing it down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shine so brightly.”
“Well, except for that moment…” Mom throws Dad a glare, and he holds up his hand defensively. “What? I’m her dad; there’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed.”
Reaching over, I grab a slice of bread, tearing into it like it’ll distract me while everything inside me feels all floaty and far away. “I thought no one noticed.”
“They couldn’t,” Mom adds quickly, slapping the back of her hand against Dad’s shoulder. “We’ve just been in this industry long enough to see when something doesn’t quite gel as it should. It was a minor blip, honey. Nothing to worry about.”
“Besides, like I said”—Dad points to himself—“I’m your dad, and I could tell by the shock on your face for that split second that whatever happened wasn’t meant to. The other guys’ faces said it all, too. Maddox caught everyone off guard, not just you.”
My throat tightens as I force down another bite. “It’s fine. We talked about it after, and he acknowledged he was wrong.”
Dad crosses his arms. “Being the frontman of the band means you look out for everyone, that you let them in on your plans, even if you do change them mid-set.” He looks thoughtful, hidden behind his salt-and-pepper trimmed beard.
“If it’s already feeling messy and you’re not happy, you don’t have to stay.
Deveraux Records is backing a handful of new bands this year, strong acts with full development teams behind them. ”
“No, Dad,” I snap, then catch myself. “It was one mistake. I’m not jumping ship because of that.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look, one I’ve seen a thousand times. That silent spousal-telepathy that says they’ve already talked about this. Probably more than once.
“Told you, Kit,” Mom says, giving him a raised eyebrow.
“You’re the one who told me nothing worth having comes easy,” I remind him. “Sip Station is what I want, and I’m prepared to fight for my place there.”
“That’s my girl.” She winks and nudges my dad out of the way. “Go set the table and stop causing problems.”
“I’m only looking out for her, Vivianne,” he replies, going to the cutlery drawer and pulling some out. “If I can open a door, why wouldn’t I?”
Huffing loudly, I drag my hand through my hair. “While I appreciate it, can you imagine what Maddox would say if I bailed and ended up somewhere else because Daddy pulled some strings?”
They just don’t get it. They never have.
Mom and Dad have always been The Deverauxs; marrying young, establishing themselves as equals, a package deal.
They worked their asses off building their empire so their kids wouldn’t have to.
And I’m grateful, really, but I need to prove I can do this without their safety net.
“I want everyone to know I can do this on my own, and I think with Sip Station, that might actually happen.”
Dad nods, coming over to me and placing a kiss on the side of my head. “I just want you to be happy.”
My fingers slide over the base of the glass in front of me, nervous, restless energy bleeding out. “I know, and I am.”
“And if that changes, you’ll let us know,” Mom says warmly and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “One word from Kit Deveraux is enough to make that boy fall in line.”
“Mom,” I groan. “Stop acting like Dad’s some mob-boss.”
He smirks, straightening his shirt. “I mean, I am a big deal.”
I tilt my head and give him a pointed look. “I can handle Maddox.”
Dad goes about setting the table while Mom brings the food over, moving around each other like they’ve choreographed the whole thing. It’s seamless and intimidating and so them. I take a seat, waiting as Dad piles noodles onto plates before Mom hands me the sauce.
“Speaking of Maddox,” Mom says, tone coy as she passes me a fork. “What’s going on there, anyway?”
“Nothing,” I say way too fast, too defensive as heat crawls up my neck.
“Nothing?” she echoes.
“Are you sure?” Dad adds, his tone all-too-knowing.
Of course they’ve discussed this too. Why wouldn’t they when my mom can read me like sheet music.
“What are you talking about?”
Dad eyes Mom, his beard twitching as he tries to hide a smile. “Your mom might have mentioned that he was sort of cute.”
“Dad!”
I wouldn’t need to look at myself to know my face is on fire as I glare at my mom. She laughs, throwing her head back before slapping my dad’s arm affectionately. “Kit, stop, we’re embarrassing the poor girl. All I said was, they would look cute together.”
“That’s not any better,” I grumble, stabbing my fork into my food. The memory of Maddox’s hand on my hip flashes again, uninvited, and I want to sink through the floor. “Can we please change the subject to one that’s not about me?”
“No can do, kiddo.” Dad shakes his head as he swallows around a bite of pasta. “We want to know all about the tour. You excited? You leave soon, right?”
The truth bubbles out before I can filter through it, my smile so wide it hurts my cheeks.
“More than anything. My first live show was like a taste of something I didn’t know I’d been missing my whole life, and now…
I want to be up there, performing in front of thousands all the time.
” I pause, glancing at my plate. “I loved writing, you know I did, but this… It feels right. With them.”
Mom watches me quietly, her expression unreadable for a second, before she reaches over, taking my hand in hers. “We’re so proud of you, honey.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, a little breathless with it all. “It’s like I’m stepping into who I was always meant to be.”
“Well,” Dad says with a grin, lifting his glass in a toast. “Then I guess the world better get ready.”
Smiling, I clink my glass against theirs, taking a sip as I lean back in my seat, listening to their idle chatter as we finish dinner.
One week until tour.
One week until I find out who I really am when the lights go up.