Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sloane
I honestly don’t know why I agreed to this.
It was one of those, maybe this will make me make better decisions. Just do something, get out of my head. But now, as we drive into town, I can’t help but second-guess myself. The car is full of awkwardness. I hate it.
Roman, of course, tries to fill the space with his usual banter. He leans back in the passenger seat, throwing me a grin that’s just a little too flirtatious.
He’s doing it on purpose, I know. Flirting is a reflex for him. He’s not even trying to hide it.
“So, Sloane,” he says, stretching his arms out in a lazy, confident manner, like he owns the world. “You’re going to be our cheerleader tonight, right?”
His voice is smooth, honey sliding over my skin. I can feel the pull of it, the chemistry that’s always been there, simmering under the surface. And I hate that it affects me.
Roman’s a pro at this. He knows how to get a reaction from me without even trying.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the seat, trying to play it cool. “I’m going to support you quietly, from the back of the bar.”
There’s a brief silence, but his eyes lock onto mine, just long enough for me to feel all of it. His lips curl into that half-smile, the one that always has me wondering if he’s pretending or if he actually means it.
“Hmm, you say that like you’re not excited to watch me play,” he teases.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable but also intrigued. He’s too good at this. And maybe it’s just me, but I feel the tension winding tighter, pulling me in, making me want to flirt back. It’s dangerous, I know, but it’s easier to get lost in it than to deal with the way I feel about everything else.
But before I can say anything, Creed slams his hand down on the console between the two front seats, interrupting the moment.
“This isn’t a joke, Roman. We do need to put on a good show if we’re going to get our groove back.”
His words are sharp, almost cold, a sudden gust of wind cutting through the warm bubble I was starting to lose myself in.
I blink, my chest tightening. Creed hasn’t said much to me since my first day here, when I cooked the wrong meal, and I honestly don’t know if we’re ever going to be able to get along. It’s just weird.
I turn my attention back to Roman, forcing a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be a great show.”
Roman chuckles, clearly enjoying the dynamic. “You know, Sloane, you really should watch how I work the crowd. It’s not every day you get to see me up on stage, doing my thing.”
He knows the effect his words have. It’s so effortless for him, and I can’t help but feel a little breathless at the thought of him up there, on stage, commanding attention. I wonder how many people have fallen for it.
I sure did, once upon a time.
I feel like I’m choking on the words I want to say. I force myself to focus on Ezra, who’s been completely silent this whole time.
His eyes are focused out the window, lost in thought, but I can’t shake the strange energy coming from him. He’s there but not there.
But that doesn’t mean he’s not making me feel something, too.
There’s a weird, uncertain energy between us—we’re both trying to figure each other out without fully committing to anything. Every time our eyes meet, there’s this flicker of… maybe a connection.
Or maybe it’s just my own confusion. I don’t know.
By the time we pull into the parking lot of The Hollow, the air is practically crackling with excitement.
The bar is a full-on party in motion. People spilling out onto the sidewalk, laughing, chatting, their voices mixing with the soft hum of music escaping through the windows.
An open mic night is in full swing, and I can practically feel the chaotic energy.
Everything’s just one note away from being perfectly in tune.
The Hollow is lit up like a beacon of warmth in the cold November air. Christmas lights twinkle along the windows, their soft glow spilling out onto the sidewalk.
The usual neon sign above the door is joined by a wreath, oversized and lush, wrapped in sparkling garland. There’s a burst of red and green everywhere.
Roman’s already stretching by the door, practically vibrating with excitement. Of course. He’s in his element. Glowing under the neon lights as a kid at a carnival. It’s like he’s always performing for an audience, whether he’s on stage or not.
But then, my gaze lands on Creed. The moment I look at him, the air changes. His jaw’s tight, and he’s heading toward the door, completely ignoring me. I’m invisible to him.
I force a smile, trying to shake off the unease.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” I say, the words coming out too cheery, but it’s better than standing here in the cold with my thoughts. “Come on, Ezra.”
Inside, the bar is exactly what I need—chaos in the best way. The entire space feels like a holiday wonderland. String lights and garlands wrapped around the exposed brick walls, twinkling softly as if they’ve captured the sparkle of snowflakes mid-fall.
A few brave souls are up on the tiny stage, belting out their favorite songs with varying degrees of skill, but it’s all part of the charm. The Hollow is the kind of place where you can screw up a song and still get a standing ovation.
I spot Olivia right away, holding court as usual, her bright smile lighting up the whole room. She’s swaying to the music, laughing at something someone said, entirely in her element. Seeing her here makes me feel I’m not so out of place in this town after all.
Up on the stage, a woman I don’t recognize is absolutely slaying a country ballad. Her voice is full of power, and the crowd is eating it up.
Over in the corner, a couple of guys are trying their best to harmonize, but it’s a train wreck, off-key and stumbling, but the crowd loves it. That’s the magic of this place, even if you mess it all up, it still feels like everyone’s in on the joke, and you’re part of it.
Roman nudges me with that grin of his that always makes me feel a little off balance.
“Let’s grab a drink first,” he says. “I’ll get the first round. You deserve it after surviving me in a truck for twenty minutes.”
I could easily stay in the back, disappear into the crowd, pretend I’m just here for the show. But Roman’s already pulling me toward the bar, that magnetic force of his too strong for me to resist. It’s dangerous, I know, but it’s easy to get swept up in him.
Roman is already waving at the bartender when the crowd suddenly erupts in cheers. I glance back at the stage and see Jesse Fletcher holding a mic.
“Come on, Silas,” he yells. “Let’s duet, shall we?”
Another man joins him, and soon they burst into song.
Jesse’s voice is all strength and swagger, making you stop what you’re doing and pay attention. Silas, on the other hand, has this low, smooth tone, effortlessly complementing Jesse’s, adding these rich harmonies that feel almost like a secret. Together, they’re magic.
The crowd’s eating it up. Some people are swaying, others are singing along softly, and the whole room clicks in that perfect, romantic, “we’re all in this together” way.
“See? This is what I’m talking about,” Roman says, nudging me again, clearly feeling the same electricity in the room. His voice drops low, teasing, but there’s admiration in his eyes as he watches the guys. “This is what it’s all about. You can’t fake chemistry like that.”
I nod absently, my eyes fixed on Jesse and Silas, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.
Watching them up there, working in perfect sync, they’re a living, breathing example of what I haven’t figured out yet. Connection. Real, raw connection.
I’m just grabbing my second drink when I hear a shift in the air. I glance up and see the Wild Reverie guys making their way to the stage.
I freeze. Roman’s already stretching his neck, shaking out his arms like he’s getting ready for a fight. Creed is getting behind the drums, adjusting his sticks. Ezra’s fiddling with his bass, lost in thought. But then I catch Roman’s eye, and he gives me a wink, a grin that’s all swagger.
“Ready for this?” he says with that teasing, irresistible tone.
But this time, it’s different. There’s something more serious beneath it that tells me they’ve got something special lined up tonight.
Everyone cheers.
Roman grins wider. “A brand-new song. I hope you all like it.”
Ooh interesting.
The room falls into an almost eerie silence as the band gets into position. The anticipation is intense. No one’s quite sure what to expect, but there’s a feeling in the air that tonight might be unforgettable.
And then it happens.
The music starts with a single, pulsing drumbeat. A sharp thud that vibrates through my body.
It’s a slow wave building up, the guitars kick in, and then Roman’s voice slashes through the tension with raw intensity. It’s different tonight—deeper, more grounded, rougher around the edges. The way he sings is fierce.
He’s giving everything to the song. The lyrics hit hard, full of emotion, and they draw you in from the very first line.
“I’ve been running, running, chasing ghosts,
“Chasing shadows of a love I never really knew.
“Fell in too deep, but I never let it show,
“Now I’m sinking, sinking, but I don’t know where to go.”
It’s a new sound for them. Heavier, but still full of that Wild Reverie magic. The pace is fast, urgent, and the energy is a spark ready to catch fire. I can feel my pulse quicken, my eyes glued to them as the music swirls around me.
Creed is lost in the rhythm, his face focused, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pounds out the beat. He’s not just playing; he’s feeling it, leaving a piece of himself behind with each crash of the cymbals.
Ezra’s bass rumbles through the room, so deep it’s vibrating in my bones. His quiet intensity fills in the gaps, adding layers to the song, and I can’t help but feel drawn into it.
There’s something magnetic about him, the way he moves with the music, like it’s the only language he speaks.
And Roman… damn, Roman’s voice. He’s telling a story, no, living a story. The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard, and I find myself completely captivated.
The song feels like it’s his soul on display, raw and unfiltered, and there’s no escaping it. I’m hearing a side of him that no one else gets to see.
Even if everyone else is here.
I’m completely blown away. This isn’t just a song. This is a declaration.
As the song builds, my heart races in time with the rhythm. The crowd is electric. People are swaying, clapping, and some are even singing along with the chorus, completely caught up in the moment.
The energy in the room is alive, crackling with excitement, and I realize, this is why they do it. This connection. This power. This is their magic.
The song hits its final note, and the room erupts. The applause is deafening, the cheers so loud that the walls are shaking.
The band stands there, catching their breath, grins spreading across their faces, but it’s not just the performance that’s fueling their smiles. It’s the connection between them. The way they’ve come together again, stronger than before. The song was just the spark that lit a fire.
You can see it in the way Roman leans into his mic stand, his eyes flicking to each of the guys—they all share the same unspoken language.
I’m still recovering from that song, my pulse still racing with it, when the crowd begins to chant. “One more!”
It’s a call for their most popular song, the one they all know by heart. And, of course, Wild Reverie doesn’t keep the crowd waiting.
Roman looks over at Creed, his grin sharp. “What do you think, man? Let’s give them what they want.”
Creed’s lips curl up, just a little, before he nods, stepping forward with that quiet confidence of his. Ezra gives a slight nod too, his fingers already adjusting his bass, preparing for what comes next.
It’s a magnetic pull drawing them back together into that space where they’re all one unit. No longer individuals, but something bigger than themselves.
Their chemistry on stage is undeniable. It’s raw and unspoken, each move they make amplifying the other’s energy.
They launch into the opening chords of the song, and before I know it, I’m caught up in it all over again. The familiar tune fills the room, but this time, I hear it differently.
I’m hearing it with new ears, seeing it with fresh eyes.
Roman’s voice hits me first, that familiar rasp with the perfect mix of power and vulnerability. And then there’s Creed, his drumming precise but layered with emotion. Ezra’s bass slides in, grounding the sound with an undertone of melancholy that pulls at something deep inside of me.
The way their voices mesh, their instruments intertwine—there’s a tension there, a current running beneath it all, building and building.
The crowd sings along, but it’s like they’re all a part of something bigger now. This isn’t just music, it’s an experience, a memory being forged in real time.
I watch the band closely, noticing the way they feed off each other.
Roman’s usual cocky smirk is gone as his eyes meet Creed’s in a silent acknowledgment that they’ve found their rhythm again, both musically and personally.
Even Ezra, who usually hangs back, is fully engaged now.
He’s not just playing; he’s connecting, his expression softening as he loses himself in the music.
It’s so much more than just a song. It’s a testament to everything they’ve been through. Watching them perform, seeing it all unfold in front of me, I can’t help but be captivated once more.
These guys are magic. Together, they make something that feels like it could change the world.
And when they hit the final note, it’s a punch to the gut. The crowd roars. It’s the kind of reaction that makes you forget the world outside the bar even exists. People are on their feet, clapping, shouting, cheering them on.
It’s an indescribable thing that makes everything feel electric. They’ve tapped into something so pure and real that you can’t help but be swept up in it.
I can’t even bring myself to clap immediately. I’m too stunned, still reeling from seeing them perform like this. They’ve come back to life as a band. They’ve found their chemistry again.
They soak in the applause, smiling like they know what they’ve just done, but they also look like they’re just as amazed by it as the rest of us. And I realize in that moment: this is why they do it. For the music. For the magic. For that shared moment of being completely and utterly alive.
I finally join the rest of the room, clapping, cheering, and shouting along with everyone else. But even as the noise swells around me, I can’t help but keep my eyes on them.
On all of them.
For the first time in what feels like ages, I’m not thinking about the mess that’s my life. I’m not thinking about anything except the music.
And it’s perfect.