Chapter Fifty-Eight
Maddox
A month and a half later
The noise is deafening. And I mean that in the best possible way.
It fills my veins like an electric charge, crackling and buzzing straight to my fingertips as they fly across the frets.
The crowd at Rogers Centre is losing their minds, and we haven’t even hit the second verse of the first song yet.
Reign’s fans always bring the noise, but tonight, in his hometown, it’s next level.
There’s something in the air, like everyone knows it’s the last show of the North American leg of the tour, weightless and thrumming with a charged joy that only happens when everything clicks.
Beau’s standing stage left, shredding like he was born with the guitar in his hands, dark hair freshly trimmed on the sides of his head, smiling like he knows he’s killing it. Eli’s anchored on bass, cool and loose, swaying with the groove like nothing in the world could shake him.
And behind me, holding it all down, is Paige.
She’s a storm on the drums, magnetic and confident, landing every beat with purpose.
Her whole body moves with the rhythm, her sticks flying across the toms, the cymbals, each crash vibrating around the arena. She’s a fucking sight, dressed in an off-the-shoulder crop top, the flared sleeves giving each flick of her arm a dramatic edge that is so goddamn sexy.
Long waves of copper hair cascade down her chest, tickling the top of her high-waisted pants, the lace-up detail running up the sides of her thighs like sin stitched in fabric.
Every time she shifts, it pulls tight, a naughty little peek into each curve of her hips, a goddamn distraction I cannot wait to peel off her.
She’s grinning, alive in the way that only music can make her, and it’s everything. Not because we’ve never played like this before, but because now we see each other. No walls, no fear. Just truth and trust and all the messy, beautiful history that brought us here.
Me, her, and the guys. Our music. Our moment.
We slide into song after song, eating up the set list, every transition so smooth it barely feels like one. Paige was right, this setup is so much better than before, the fans going absolutely wild.
They roar back every word, scream during the chorus, bounce and rave and dance in the instrumental sections. And we give it to them, full throttle, no holding back.
By the time we hit the final track, it’s a full-body rush. My shirt clings to my back, sweat dripping down my neck, but I don’t feel any of it. All I feel is the hum in my chest and the burn in my fingers as I play the outro riff like my life depends on it.
Paige crashes the final beat, cymbals ringing like a victory cry, right before the lights blast white for the final time, then…blackout.
For half a second, the silence feels like a vacuum, until the crowd erupts.
Screaming, cheering, pure, visceral sound.
I’m panting, shoving back my sweat-soaked hair from my face, clapping Beau on the back as he throws an arm around Eli’s shoulder, shouting and jumping around stage in unadulterated delight.
I slow, turning around just in time to see Paige hop down from the riser, her long hair sticking to her face, cheeks flushed, eyes wild with adrenaline. She’s only holding one stick, the other probably long gone in the heat of her set.
She looks radiant, un-fucking-touchable.
Her grin softens as soon as she spots me, changing into something else, something just for me. She walks straight into my space, glowing from the show, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
She fits there like she always has. Like she was made for this.
For us.
I dip my head and press a soft kiss to the top of her hair, then another to her temple, and finally, when she tilts her face up to mine, our lips meet in a kiss that’s sweet and unhurried.
“Love you, baby,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re disgustingly cute,” Reign cuts in, smug as hell as he strides out from the shadows. “Now get off my stage. My fans are waiting.”
Paige ducks her head, shrugging out of my hold and disappearing into the wings as Reign stalks over, hand held out. I smack my palm against his, and he hauls me in for a one-armed hug.
“Finally pulled your head out of your ass and told her how you feel, huh?”
“Something like that.”
He grins, clapping my shoulder. “Loved having you guys with me. Europe’s next, baby, and we’re gonna fucking kill it.”
“No doubt,” I say, watching as he turns and jogs toward his sound tech guys, preparing for his home crowd.
Cheers still echo behind me, the buzz of the night starting to fade.
Slipping into the wings, she’s waiting for me, foot casually leaning against the wall like she owns the shadows, eyes trailing down my body, cataloging what’s hers.
She pushes away, a sexy-as-hell smile curling the edges of her lips as she meets me halfway, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you to come find me,” she says, her voice low, her tongue swiping along her lower lip. There’s sweat on her collarbone, her chest rising and falling, skin glowing under the dim side-stage lights.
My hands grip her hips, crowding her back until she’s against the wall in one smooth move. Her breath catches, hands fisting my shirt, lust shining from her blue eyes. One hand lands above her head, caging her in with my body, and I lean down, brushing my mouth just beneath her jaw.
“You were hard to miss,” I murmur, lips grazing her skin as I speak.
She tilts her head, giving me more of her neck. I take it, teasing her with my lips, my teeth, slow and deliberate, tracing a salt-slick path from her pulse point to the corner of her mouth without ever giving her what she wants.
Her fingers tighten in the front of my shirt, a breathy whimper escaping her lips, loud enough for only me to hear.
“You looked so fucking good out there,” I whisper, moving lower, my hand skimming down her side until I reach the laces on her thighs, crisscrossed tight, stopping just above her knees. My thumb drags down the tied line, fabric and skin taunting my touch. “I can’t wait to get you out of these.”
Her teeth latch onto my ear, nipping hard. “Then what are you waiting for?”
With a smirk, I press my hips against hers.
“Say the word, baby,” I breathe, kissing her until she’s panting, “and I won’t even wait to get you home.”