Epilogue
I park the Harley several blocks away from The Mine. The lot behind the building was full. Obviously, word has gotten out about tonight’s performance. Nervous for Peace, I take her roses out of the side cases and make my way toward the club.
The line outside The Mine wraps around the block. We’ll likely reach capacity for the newly redesigned bar where my uncle’s wife used to work as a bartender.
Before I can make it to the door, Shooting Star fans stop me. I sign a few autographs, then beeline for the front entrance.
“You’re late, Mr. Jackson.” The bouncer, who’s Peace’s favorite, recognizes me and waves me inside.
“How’s she holding up in there?” I ask him.
“Not good.” He shakes his head. “She’s holed up in the dressing room. Been asking for you.”
“Radio her I’m here,” I order, not wanting to stop to send her a message.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks.” I step inside and the recorded music pumping from the kick-ass speakers blasts me.
“Excuse me.” I place my hand on the shoulder of the patron in front of me. As he moves aside, I inch forward. I repeat this procedure again and again. The place is packed. Every space on the floor has a person occupying it, and every seat on the new balcony appears to be filled. I manage to weave my way closer to Peace, but my progress is maddingly slow.
“Bo!” Harmony shouts. Spotting her on the top step on the stairs that access the raised stage, I make eye contact with her as she waves at me. The Jinkins and Jackson lanyard she’s wearing around her neck shakes with her agitation.
Reaching the stairs, I jog up them.
“She doing okay?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head, and the knot in my gut tightens. “C’mon.” She leads, and we duck behind a purple velvet curtain. Backstage is chaos, but we bypass that to enter a short hallway. Dressing rooms on either side have gold numbers on the doors. Harmony stops in front of door number one.
“I already did her makeup. She’s wearing the outfit your mother designed. She looks incredible.” She gives me a warning glare. “Don’t you dare mess her up.”
I nod but make no promises. I’ll do whatever is necessary for Peace to be happy.
Harmony narrows her eyes as if she knows I’ll have sex with Peace to relax her if that’s what she needs. “She has her game face on. But she almost hurled once, and I can’t get her to eat anything to settle her stomach.”
“Out of the way, Harm.” I jerk up my chin. “I appreciate you being here for her.” Peace’s sibling has been around enough this summer that I think I’ve won her over or at least she likes me enough that I no longer have to worry she’ll chop my dick off. “Sooner I get in there, the sooner I can help her.”
“Right. Okay.” A muscle twitches near her right eye. She’s nervous for her sister too. Peace is intuitive. I’m sure she’s picked up on that and it’s not helping her nerves.
“Go. Sit with your parents and your uncles.”
“Roger that, captain.” She salutes me. “Oh, one more thing?”
“Yes.” I stop with my hand on the knob.
“Your dad is in the building.”
“Fucking hell.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I haven’t talked to him since he showed up on the tour and did absolutely nothing when War clocked me. Sure, I’ve gotten updates about him through my mom. I know he started physical therapy for his hand and that he’s been pulling out all the stops trying to get Mom back. But that’s their story not mine. He hasn’t made any effort to make amends with me. Not that it matters. Peace is all I need, and she’s my priority.
“All the guys from Tempest are here to support you two,” she adds.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” I turn away from her and twist the knob, thinking how strangely amazing it is that Peace’s parents and her uncles have accepted me being a part of her life. Pretty sure it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Peace. She’s still shy, case in point her nerves about performing publicly tonight, but she has the strength inside to overcome it. She just needs me to remind her sometimes.
“Peace,” I call, entering the small dressing room. “Where are you, sweetheart?”
“Here.” She pops up from a wingback purple chair that was facing the wall. Seeing her, my heart leaps and my cock lengthens. She’s been mine for an entire summer, but a summer isn’t near enough. I’m as obsessed with her as I’ve always been. She’s the caretaker of my heart. I’m the holder of hers. I know that my obsession with her, and hers with me will never change.
She comes straight to me. I only have a moment to toss her flowers on the dressing table beside a huge arrangement that must be from her uncles before she throws herself at me, face-planting into my chest.
“It’s okay.” My arms band around the woman I love with all my being. “You got this.”
She grabs a hold of my white button-down shirt and sobs into the fabric stretched over my rapidly thumping heart.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do it. I thought I could. I wanted to do it for you. For us. But I just can’t.” She sucks in a shaky breath and my heart goes out to her. “And now, I got Harmony’s glamorous makeup all over your shirt.”
“Listen, baby.” I gently ease her back so I can have her eyes. She’s right, a good amount of the makeup Harmony applied is on me, but the rest is mostly intact. “This is your big night. Not mine really. So don’t worry about me. If you want to do this, let’s do it. But if you want me to go out there and call it off, I will.”
“But we worked so hard.”
“We did,” I agree.
“Our songs are fantastic.”
“They are. My girl doesn’t lack confidence. Does she?” My lips twitching, I frame her face that’s done up pretty but too done up in my opinion.
“How can I lack confidence with you believing in me?” She shakes her head, and the ends of her silky hair don’t swish against my forearms like they usually do since the strands are pulled back and coiled high on her pretty head.
“Or me because of you, sweetheart.” I stroke my thumb along her jaw. Her eyelids flutter with pleasure from the caress, and her lush red-stained lips part. “But this amount of makeup isn’t you.” Lifting the hem of my shirt, I swipe the lip stain away and press my mouth to hers. As usual, a lip touch isn’t enough. I must taste her. She moans when my tongue touches hers. I groan.
“Excuse me.” A masculine throat clears. It takes me a moment to get my brain online since all the blood in my body has rushed to my cock.
Peace gets it together before me. “Bryan,” she acknowledges him.
“What the fuck?” I rearrange Peace, drawing her into my side, and glare at my old man. “Why are you back here?”
“Came to wish you luck.” He takes a tentative step into the room.
“Don’t need luck.” My brows crease with my displeasure. “My woman kicks ass.”
“That didn’t come out right. I meant to apologize first.” My dad shifts his weight from one booted foot to the other. For the first time ever, my old man looks uncertain and extremely sad. “Seeing you two together with Peace wearing one of your mother’s designs reminded me of a time when your mom was part of our band.”
This is a story I haven’t heard, but nevertheless. “You don’t belong here.”
He flinches. “I deserve that. I know I’ve fucked up, but I hoped…” Trailing off, his Adam’s apple bobs above the ragged collar of his Martin guitar T-shirt. “But I don’t have any hope anymore without your mother or you in my life.”
“You don’t want me in your life,” I say bitterly. “You never have.” The old dark anger rises like a rogue wave within me until I feel Peace take my hand.
“You’re wrong.” He shakes his head. “I wanted you. I always have, but I tried to have you on my terms. That was a mistake, a terrible one. I’m sorry. I could make excuses for everything, tell you that the choices I made were motivated by my love for you, but I realize after weeks of intensive therapy that my mistakes are my own, and that when it came to you, it was mainly fear guiding me. Because of that fear, I acted like a man you know I loathed.”
I give that a grim nod.
“Working to do better. Putting all my efforts into being a better man. I have a shit-ton of work to do and a lot of mistakes to make up for.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m at rock bottom. Can’t go any lower. But I’m here asking if you’ll let me stay.”
I shake my head. My instinct is to refuse him, but Peace draws my attention. Her fingers pulsing around mine, I look at her. Her love for me shines like a beacon in her eyes. Love in its purest form is a light. It overcomes hate like we sing about.
“Leave us alone a minute.” Aiming my gaze at Bryan, I crank up my chin.
“Okay.” He turns, steps out into the hall, and I close the door.
“Love you, Peace.” I pull her into my arms. “But I’m not ready for this shit.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.” She frames my face. “I love you because you’re you, and I support you whatever you decide. I’d call in that favor I asked of you a while back, use that to ask you to consider giving your dad a chance. But I wouldn’t be asking for Bryan.”
“How do you mean?” I tilt my head, not following.
“Holding onto your anger hurts you the most, not him. That anger leaves a hole inside you where love can’t grow.”
I give that some serious consideration.
She squeezes my fingers again. “It’s ultimately your choice whether to give him a chance or not. But if it were me choosing”—she searches my eyes—“knowing your strength and knowing the love that flows through me because of you, I’d tell him okay. Because you’re okay either way.”
“I love you,” I breathe out, making a conscious effort to let go of the old anger. She’s right. Bitterness doesn’t belong inside me when I have all her love. “But?—”
“You want me to do my difficult thing too.” She wrinkles her cute nose.
“You got this singing thing down, baby. But ditch the designer clothes and the makeup. Be yourself, and I’ll meet you on that stage. Together. You and me. We’re going to blow them away.” I frame her beautiful face and stare into her gorgeous eyes. “I got you.”
“Okay.” She smiles and her joy is the light I carry inside me.
Peace
I bounce on the soles of my pink Keds just offstage. Wiping my sweaty palms on my favorite jeans, I glance down at my A BOOK A DAY KEEPS THE brEAKDOWN AWAY T-shirt. It’s certainly an appropriate sentiment for now.
I peek out at the audience again, gulping at the number of people. But I remember the advice I gave Bo and focus on my parents, my uncles, and Harmony. They love me. They support me like Bo. Even if I fall flat on my face, they’ll continue to love me. My dad sees me first, and he gives me a thumbs-up. My mom smiles. Alex beams with pride. Mike winks at me.
Movement in the front row draws my eyes. I shift to look at Bo. Standing beside Bryan, he says something to him and then walks away. His dad drops down into the empty seat by his grandmother. My lips lift. My man did it. He talked to his father. Tears of joy fill my eyes. I knew he could do it. He can do anything, even be the bigger man. Climbing the stage stairs, he notices me and slowly grins. My heart flips.
Yeah, I got this singing thing because he’s got me.
Crossing to center stage, he joins Dizzy, taking the cordless mic from his hand. Dizzy pats his nephew on the back. I can’t see the rest of the men from Tempest in the audience because of the stage lights in my eyes, but I know they’re out here. Ditto on Bo’s bandmates. His brothers are my brothers too.
“I want to thank you all for being here tonight,” Bo says, his deep and decadent voice filling the entire place with audible goodness. “We have a very special album to debut for you tonight. Peace Jinkins, can you come out here and join me?”
Nodding, I walk out. I wave to the audience. Smiling, I’m not nervous anymore. Well, not as much. There are a few butterflies.
My steps are absolute. They follow my heart, which leads me to Bo. It always has.
He switches off the cordless mic, tossing it to Dizzy. He takes his guitar from George. Tonight, he’s chosen his ebony Martin acoustic with the pretty abalone inlays. Clipping on the guitar strap, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
That’s my cue. We’ve practiced this dozens of times.
I walk up to the mic. Standing center stage, my mind flashes backward. I remember the night in our apartment when we came up with this song. I listen to Bo play the opening chords. My gaze shifting to the audience, I see in my mind’s eye a young boy and girl who met on a snowy winter’s night. All those years ago, we opened our hearts to each other and shared our secrets. We bared our souls. We made vows beneath a shooting star. We failed at first, but then we triumphed. We found strength in each other and here we are.
“Love you, babe,” Bo says as he moves beside me.
“Love you,” I say back, my heart in my eyes. Here and now the vows we made to each other are fulfilled. His love giving me the confidence I need, I can do this. With Bo at my side, I can do anything. I no longer want to hide from life. I want to live it. I put my mouth to the mic. I sing, and Bo harmonizes his voice with mine. Our home is right here with each other. Our hearts are in rhythm with his guitar and my words. Some love stories are written in the stars. Ours began under a single one and it will live on beat by beat, measure by measure, breath by breath inside our music.
~ the end~