Epilogue
Cheyenne
Cast members move around me in a blur of satin, makeup, whispered lines, and quick costume checks.
One of the actors laughs a little too loudly as another curses under his breath over a snagged zipper.
The stage manager moves through it all with a clipboard in hand and the kind of calm authority I envy with every shaky beat of my heart.
Beyond the curtain, the murmur of the audience swells into a low roar, and my stomach drops. For one terrifying second, I can only stand and stare, my fingers curling around the edge of the dressing table until my knuckles ache.
This is a live production. There aren’t cameras or retakes. No one calling cut and telling me to do it again with a different smile, from a different angle. It’s just me, a packed theater on opening night, and the dream that felt so out of reach, I nearly convinced myself it would never happen.
A laugh ripples through the audience, followed by the rustle of playbills and the muffled hum of anticipation. That’s all it takes for panic to slither down my spine.
Oh God.
What if I forget my lines?
Or freeze?
What if I walk out there and every fear I’ve been carrying turns out to be true?
What if everyone who looked at me and only saw a reality star playing dress-up was right?
I press a shaky hand to my stomach and force myself to breathe, but the inhale catches halfway in.
“Hey, babe. You doing okay?”
Relief rushes through me at the sound of his voice, and my knees nearly buckle.
I pivot, and there Knox is, broad shoulders filling the narrow backstage hallway.
He’s dressed for opening night in dark slacks and a white button-down that stretches across his chest, the sleeves rolled to his forearms. He’s clean-shaven, and his hair is pushed back as his eyes lock on me.
My throat constricts. “I’m fine.”
When one of his brows lift, I huff out a weak laugh. “Okay, that’s a lie. I’m nowhere near fine.”
He closes the distance between us with a couple easy strides, stopping only when he’s a few feet away. His gaze drifts over me, as if taking in every detail.
His expression softens. “You look the part, baby.”
Emotion rises within me. This costume isn’t flashy the way the things I used to wear on red carpets were. It isn’t built to sell something or catch a camera. It’s elegant and fitted, with cream silk, a soft shimmer, and delicate beading at the neckline.
It makes me feel like the woman I’ve been reaching for my whole life. And Knox looks at me like he understands that.
“Hopefully, I won’t humiliate myself,” I say, trying for lighthearted even as nerves vibrate through every word.
His mouth curves into a devastating smile. “You could walk out there and stand still for two damn hours, and every person in that audience would think they got their money’s worth.”
I snort. “I very much doubt that.”
“It’s true.” He reaches into his pocket. “I brought you something to celebrate opening night.”
My gaze drops to the small velvet box in his hand, and a different kind of flutter works its way through me. “Knox…”
“Go on and open it.”
His voice is gentle, but there’s a quiet thread of command beneath it that always makes my pulse skip.
I take the box carefully, and our fingers brush during the exchange.
That tiny touch manages to steady me. When I lift the lid, my breath catches.
Inside is a delicate gold necklace. Instead of being overdone or flashy, it’s dainty and understated.
Unmistakably expensive because Knox McNichols doesn’t know how to do anything halfway.
At the center hangs a small charm. It’s a star with a sparkling diamond set into the middle.
I look up at him. “It’s stunning.”
His gaze never leaves mine. “Flip it over.”
My fingers shake as I turn the star over, and my heart clenches. Etched into the back in tiny script are the words No more cages.
For a second, everything around me falls away.
The noise.
The lights.
The chaos backstage.
It all fades beneath the weight of those three words.
My vision blurs as I swallow hard, but it doesn’t stop the thick emotion from rising in my throat. “Knox.”
He reaches up and brushes his thumb just beneath my eye before the tears can spill. “You said once that when you were a teenager, you used to look up at the stars and imagine a life that was yours. A life where nobody else got to decide who you were.”
I can barely breathe now, but for an entirely different reason.
I did tell him that late one night while we were curled up in bed. How I used to lie awake and stare out the windows, wishing for something bigger than the life everyone kept trying to push me into. Something that was mine alone.
I never thought he’d remember the exact words.
His hand slides to the side of my neck. “When you walk out there tonight, I want you wearing a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That no one and nothing owns you. Not your mother, the cameras, or even the past.” His thumb strokes my skin. “You go out there because this is what you chose. It’s the life you were brave enough to create for yourself, and I want you to fully embrace it.”
Another tear slips free, and I let out a watery laugh, pressing the heel of my hand against my cheek. “I think you’re trying to ruin my makeup right before I go on stage.”
His mouth twitches. “Totally worth it.”
I laugh again, handing him the necklace. “Would you mind putting it on for me, please?”
Tenderness flashes across his expression as he steps behind me. I lift my hair, and his fingers brush the nape of my neck as he fastens the clasp. His touch is careful, and the chain settles against my skin with a cool, delicate weight.
His palms slide lightly over my bare shoulders before he turns me to face him again. The star rests just above my heart.
Knox’s gaze drops to it before lifting to my face. “Perfect. Just like you, baby.”
I shake my head, smiling through the sting in my eyes. “You do realize I’m supposed to be focusing on my performance and not the fact that I’m hopelessly in love with you, right?”
He leans in until his forehead can rest against mine. “I guess it’s a good thing you can multitask.”
A shaky laugh escapes me as he angles his head. The kiss is gentle, exactly what I need to quiet my racing thoughts and remind me where my center is.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” I whisper.
His gaze darkens. “We both know I’m the one who got lucky here.”
The stage manager appears at the corner and gestures. “Places.”
Nervousness flares within me again.
Knox leans in and kisses my forehead. “Go shine, baby.”
I smile up at him, because somehow that simple phrase feels more powerful than any pep talk ever could.
It’s only after he disappears that I move toward the curtain. My pulse thunders, but not with panic.
Well, not exactly. It’s a mixture of adrenaline and hope.
Carefully, I edge toward a gap in the curtain and peek out at the packed theater. There are rows of stylishly attired people filling the seats as the orchestra pit hums below, the musicians checking instruments one final time.
My heart stutters as I scan the crowd. Knox is in the front section with our family.
Britt and Colby. Gray and Whitney. Some of the Railers are sprawled in their seats like they don’t entirely belong in a theater but showed up anyway because they love me, and Knox would have killed them if they didn’t.
Whitney catches my eye and gives me a knowing smile, the kind that says she knew exactly where this was headed long before either of us did.
She was the one who said the best relationships start out by fake dating, and judging by the warmth in her expression, she’s feeling pretty vindicated right about now.
Britt leans into Colby, grinning, while Gray gives Knox a clap on the shoulder. There’s no hesitation or awkwardness there. No one looking at us like we moved too fast or made a mistake.
Unable to help myself, my attention resettles on Knox, the way it always does. He glances toward the curtain, as if he can feel the weight of my stare. Our gazes meet across the crowded theater, and for one suspended moment, everything else falls away.
It’s just him and that unwavering sense of rightness I always feel in his presence.
After a moment, he gives me a slight nod.
And, somehow, that tiny movement is enough to banish the nerves.
My throat wells with emotion as I let the curtain fall back into place and close my eyes for one brief second.
When I open them again, I touch the star resting above my heart.
No more cages.
A smile curves my lips as I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and step into position.
Not as the girl hoping she belongs here, but as the woman who knows she earned her place.