Chapter Fifty
Maddox
I’ve never wanted to come here.
I’ve driven past this cemetery a dozen times over the years, telling myself I’d stop, that I’d face it one day. But I always kept going.
Cowardice disguised as self-preservation.
Even now, standing in front of the headstone, I feel like I’m trespassing. I don’t deserve to grieve her, the what-ifs and all the ways I could have stopped this from happening, claim my right to mourn.
The stone is clean, the marble shining brightly in the mid-morning sun. Someone’s been here recently; the fresh lilies resting at the base say as much. Probably her mom or dad. Maybe Paige.
Six copper pennies sit on top, each one in various states of discoloration, some dulled with age more than others. But each one a sucker punch, the stupid rhyme echoing in my head.
Find a penny…
Jesus.
I crouch onto my haunches, my hands jammed into the pockets of my hoodie like pulling them out might make me shatter. But I do it anyway, needing to run my fingers over the etched letters on the front, just to remind myself that…this is real. That I did this.
I stare at her name for a long time, my eyes burning from the lack of blinking.
Penelope Hope Deveraux
22 years old
Daughter, sister, friend.
Our Brightest Light
“I always liked your full name,” I murmur, the corner of my lip twitching. “I always thought it didn’t quite fit the girl people expected you to be. Not the one who left crumbs and orange Cheeto prints all over the mixing board and who’d swear like a sailor.”
A warm breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the sound of birds singing in the wind. I press my palm flat against her headstone, the stone cool against my palm, and bow my head, biting hard against the prickling in my eyes.
“I didn’t come for forgiveness.” My voice cracks, the words sticking in my throat, thick and bitter. “I know I don’t get that. I came because…”
I trail off. Truth is, I don’t know why I came. I just knew that the second we got back to LA, I had to.
“I should’ve said something that night. Stopped you. Told you that even though it didn’t mean anything, nothing had to change between us.” I release a heavy breath, struggling to say the things that are long overdue. “I should’ve hugged you, laughed it off with you.”
I glance up at the stone, picturing her face.
“But I didn’t. I let you walk out thinking you’d ruined everything. And the next morning, you were gone.”
My knees give out, and I sink into the grass. My hands shake as I keep speaking to her.
“She reminds me of you sometimes. She fiddles with her necklace the same way you did. Has your laugh. But she’s fierce.
Stubborn. She’s got this soul that makes me feel…
” I huff, dragging a hand through my hair.
“I don’t know. Like I’m connected to something bigger when I’m around her. And I ruined that.”
A car door slamming in the distance is my only response.
“I should’ve told her. From the start, I should have said that I knew you.” A bitter huff pushes past my lips. “Hell, even the guys kept telling me that I needed to, but I didn’t listen. I thought if I kept it to myself no one would get hurt.”
My gaze slides over the engraved stone once more. “I loved you, Penny. Just…not how you wanted. But I did. And I should’ve said it while I still had the chance.”
I lean my head against the cold marble.
“I’ve fucked things up with Paige from day one. But I don’t want to keep doing it. I love her. So damn much it’s terrifying,” I whisper, eyes shut tight. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“I think you’re speaking to the wrong girl there, son.”
I jolt upright, stumbling, as Kit Deveraux stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
My pulse trips up in my chest, and for a moment, I feel fourteen again, caught doing something I can't explain. Only now, the shame isn’t fleeting, it’s crushing, all-consuming.
I am unworthy of standing by his daughter’s graveside.
“Sir? I… I didn’t know anyone else was… I shouldn’t be here.”
I take a step back, ready to leave, but Kit moves into my path, stopping me.
“You’re exactly where you should be,” he says, looking past me to the stone.
Guilt twists my gut, stacking on top of everything I’ve already been dragging around for years. Kit walks around me and lays a hand on the stone before adjusting the neat line of coins on top.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
He glances back, brow creased. “For what?”
I swallow hard. The words that have rotted in my chest for two years spill out, uncontrolled.
“If it weren’t for me…Penny would still be alive.”
I’m met with silence, the kind that flattens you, makes your ribs ache.
Kit’s eyes narrow as he slowly turns, stepping closer. Not aggressive or dramatic, just his steady presence that roots me to the spot. “What do you mean?”
“She left the studio late that night because of me,” I rasp. “Our session had run over. I'd made her stay longer. If we'd finished on time… If I’d just—”
“None of this was your fault," he cuts in as one hand grips my shoulder
“But the accident… the truck…”
“She was in a car accident, yes. But that’s not what killed her.” There’s an ache there as he pauses, taking a moment to look past me at her gravestone. “She had Long QT Syndrome. It’s a genetic heart condition. Usually undiagnosed, silent, until it isn’t.”
The breath leaves me like a punch to the gut, blood rushing in my ears. Two years. Two damn years of carrying shackles made of guilt, letting poison trickle into my life. And now, with one sentence, he’s unlocked them, but I don’t know how to stand without their weight anymore.
My knees threaten to buckle as I say nothing. I want to believe him, God, I do, but the idea of letting go feels impossible.
“The reports didn’t mention it,” he adds after a beat. “That was my decision. I didn’t want it affecting Paige.”
My head snaps up. “Is she…?”
“She’s fine,” he says softly. “We all got tested after Penny. Paige’s results came back clear.”
I exhale hard, like I’ve been holding my breath for years.
“You’ve carried this around since that day?” he asks, already knowing the answer. His expression softens as his eyes fill with sadness. “You didn’t take her from us, Maddox. Life did.”
Something breaks inside me. “I could’ve—”
“No.” His voice sharpens, like he needs me to listen closely. “You couldn’t. You were a scared kid, blindsided by something you didn’t ask for from someone you thought was a friend. That’s all it was.”
I blink at him. “Penny told you?”
He shakes his head. “Paige.”
My throat aches, working around a knot of grief I’ve been choking on for years.
“You’ve punished yourself long enough,” he says, firmer now, like he’s giving me permission to move on. “There was nothing, nothing, you could have done to save my little girl.”
His face hardens into the powerful man the world knows him to be. The one who built an empire from nothing. But his eyes—Paige’s eyes—burn with the same intensity hers do when she’s furious.
“But from what I heard, you did save one of them. God help whoever laid hands on Paige if you hadn’t been there.”
I look down. The cold seeps into my boots and up through my thighs, even though the sun’s shining down on us. I hear him exhale, like the weight of that sentence finally caught up to him.
“She’s been staying with us,” he adds quietly. “Since you got home.”
My head snaps up as a shot of adrenaline races through me. I’ve been texting, calling, leaving messages that go unanswered since we got back.
Not seeing her is killing me. Not hearing her voice or her laugh. Not fighting until my blood boils, then lying together in a mess of limbs and teeth. Not being able to watch her as she becomes one with the drum kit has been like someone’s ripped away a huge part of me.
But not knowing if she’s okay? That’s been torture.
“How is she?” My voice comes out rough.
“She’s…quiet,” he says after a moment. “Withdrawn. Like she unplugged herself and doesn’t know how to switch back on.”
I nod, shame pooling in every cell. “That’s my fault.”
“You really are a martyr for my girls, aren’t you?” he says with a dry chuckle. “She’s not angry anymore, Maddox. She’s disappointed, hurt, confused. You didn’t just break her heart; you kept her in the dark while she started to care about you.”
“I know.”
He watches me for a long moment, then exhales through his nose.
“Life doesn’t stop for grief, does it?” he mutters, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Not even heartache slows it down.” Turning, he gives a dry, almost reluctant smile.
“James Allen called, by the way. His guy saw one of your recent shows. Been keeping tabs on you since Reign Cooper posted about you joining his tour.” He gives me a pointed look. “He said you haven’t accepted yet.”
My stomach churns, not from doubt, not even from nerves.
Because the truth is, the deal came through quicker than any of us expected, and on paper, it’s everything.
Full tour support, album options, Thea staying on as our manager.
The guys have already looked over it, and even they can see how good it is. We’d be stupid to turn it down.
But still, the weight of the decision sits heavy in my gut.
Because if we say yes, we might still lose the one person who actually made it possible.
“No. Paige wouldn’t want it,” I say quietly. “Not if it’s coming from you, sir.”
Kit scoffs, shaking his head. “Kid, I run one of the biggest record labels on the planet. You think I’ve got the time to personally track every agent working under me?
James is a friend, but I’m a father first. He gave me the heads-up, sure, but I didn’t know about the offer until it was already made. ”
I nod, swallowing thickly. “Still. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything handed to her.”
“And you’ve spoken about this? Paige is definitely stubborn; I’ll give her that. She’s also incredibly proud, but she had to know there was a real chance a deal would’ve come from one of my people.”
“Honestly, sir, we didn’t exactly talk about that possibility. Everything’s been about the tour—preparing, traveling, performing. Hell, we haven’t had time to think beyond the next city.”
He hums quietly to himself before turning to Penny’s grave, presses his fingers to his lips, then touches them gently to the top of the stone.
“Take the deal, Maddox. I’ll talk to Paige.”
He starts walking back toward the path, pausing just before the edge.
“And for the record,” he says over his shoulder, “if you really love my daughter, show her. You’ve both been through too much to let the past keep you from the future.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing behind the trees, and I stay where I am, staring down at the headstone one last time. Maybe this is what grace looks like. Not quite a clean slate, but a way forward.
One I have to earn.
One I want to.
I just don’t know how yet.