Epilogue
Declan
THREE YEARS LATER
The lights dim, and the stadium roars.
Seventy thousand people are packed into Rogers Centre, all of them here for Reign Cooper.
My chaotic, unstoppable, golden-voiced rock star.
And right now, he’s glowing in the single spotlight in the middle of the stage, curls damp from sweat, chain around his neck glittering under the lights.
He grins, arms held wide, his guitar slung over his back as the crowd goes wild following his newest track.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to, basking in the glory of everything he’s built. His legacy.
Even now, with fewer tour dates, fewer stadiums, interviews, magazine covers, he’s still the biggest star in the world. But the pace is his now. Ours. Because now he has something that’s more than just music.
Like the three Lost Compass locations that he pretends I did on my own.
The house outside Toronto.
The studio with his name on the door.
The ring on his finger.
The baby in my arms.
Our son shifts in my hold, small hands grabbing my shirt. He’s wide-eyed beneath his bright blue ear defenders, blinking against the lights like he hasn’t figured out where we are yet. All he knows is that the man out there, singing like he fucking owns the sky, is his Daddy.
Cooper’s eyes find us instantly, just like always. He scans right past Grace, tall and lanky now as a pre-teen, shooting her a quick wink before staring at Ziggy. The smile that breaks over his face, the real one, the one that’s just for us, is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.
Stepping up to the mic, he rakes a hand through his curls, pushing them back.
“You know,” he drawls, voice raspy, carrying through the noise. “I’ve sung this song a thousand times, and every time, it’s meant something different. But tonight… Tonight, I’m singing it for two people.” He gestures toward us, hand over his eyes to block out the glare. “My husband and our son.”
The spotlight widens as he walks toward us, hand outstretched, blue gaze locked on mine. The crowd erupts as he tilts his chin, waiting for me to meet him halfway. I hesitate for only a second, laughing when Grace shoves me from behind, stepping out onto the stage, Ziggy tucked safely in my arms.
The sound is deafening—screams and cheers rolling through the arena like thunder—but none of it touches him.
He just blinks up at me, blowing spit bubbles before noticing his Daddy, trying to escape me to get to Coop.
My husband’s grin splits his cheeks as he holds out his arms, Ziggy going easily to him, like he knows without question who those arms belong to.
Settling him against his chest, one hand supporting his back, the other cradling his head, he kisses his temple. The stadium shakes with noise, but Cooper doesn’t care. He turns back to the mic, baby in his arms, eyes never leaving me.
“This one’s for them,” he says, chuckling when Ziggy tugs at his chain, trying to put the pendant into his mouth. “For the life I never thought I’d get, and the man who gave it all to me.”