Chapter 33 #2
The backstage area buzzes with the electric aftermath of the performance. Sweat drips from my temples as I towel off, but my eyes never leave Livianna. She’s perched on the edge of an equipment case, looking slightly overwhelmed by the havoc around us.
“Holy shit, Cash!” Cooper bounds over, still riding the adrenaline high. “That was fucking insane. Did you see the crowd when you pulled her out there?”
“I felt it more than I saw it.” I toss the towel aside and move closer to where she sits. “You okay, vixen?”
“I’m good.” But her hands shake slightly as she reaches for the water bottle someone passes to her. “That was...intense.”
“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” Hawke appears with a fresh beer, grinning like a maniac. “Bro, my social media notifications are already going fucking crazy. #CashAndLily is trending worldwide.”
Livianna’s face goes pale. “What?”
“Welcome to my world, beautiful.” I settle beside her, close enough to feel her warmth. “But hey, at least they’re talking about the music, not my latest fuckup.”
Quinn sways over with her own drink, eyes bright with excitement. “Livianna, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed. I literally got chills when he started singing to you.”
“You set this up.” Livianna’s accusation carries no actual heat. “You knew he was going to do that.”
“I knew he was hoping to.” Quinn shrugs completely unrepentant. “But it only happened because you agreed to watch from the side. That took guts.”
Bren approaches, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. “Speaking of guts, sis, you looked good up there. Natural.”
“Natural at what? Standing there looking terrified?” But she’s calm now, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
“At being yourself.” He reaches out to ruffle her hair like when we were kids. “Remember when you used to sit in on our practices? You’d lie on that old gray sectional and just listen.”
“That was more comfortable than this case,” she says dryly, but her expression softens.
Cooper drains his beer and crushes the can. “Those were good times. Before everything got so complicated.”
“Before I got fucking complicated,” I correct, earning a sharp glare from Livianna.
“We all were, Cash.” Hawke claps me on the back. “But tonight felt like the old days. Like when we gave a shit about the music more than the business.”
Quinn steps closer to Bren, bold as brass. “So this is what it’s like backstage at a major festival? I have to admit, I’m impressed.”
“Impressed enough to stick around for the after-party?” Bren’s grin is pure sin. “We’re heading to a private club. It’s very exclusive.”
“How exclusive are we talking?” She tilts her head, studying him like he’s a puzzle she wants to solve.
“The kind where paparazzi need a telescope to get shots.” He shuffles closer, lowering his voice. “The kind where we can actually have conversations without screaming over amp feedback.”
They flirt while I keep one eye on Livianna. She’s observing the exchange with amusement, but there’s exhaustion creeping in around her edges.
“You hungry?” I ask her quietly.
“Starving, actually. All that alcohol and no food wasn’t my brightest idea.”
“We’ve got catering set up in the main trailer. Proper food, not just the standard backstage garbage.” I stand and offer her my hand. “Come on. Let me feed you.”
She hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. The simple contact sends warmth shooting straight to my heart.
As we make our way through the maze of equipment and crew, I catch fragments of conversations around us. Everyone’s still buzzing about the show, about the moment I pulled her onstage.
“Dude, that was legendary,” one of the sound techs calls out. “Best Coachella moment in years.”
“Cash finally grew some balls,” another voice adds, earning laughs from the group.
Livianna squeezes my hand. “Do you regret it? Making such a public statement?”
I stop mid-stride and turn to face her fully. “The only thing I regret is waiting so long to do it. I should’ve fought for you years ago instead of drowning in my own bullshit.”
Her blue eyes search my face. “Things were…”
“I know it’s not that simple. I fucked up more times than either of us can count.” My thumb runs across her soft skin. “But I’m not the same guy who let drugs and ego destroy us. I wanna prove that to you.”
“How?”
Around us, the backstage chaos continues, but we’re in our own galaxy again.
“However long it takes. However many chances you’re willing to give me.” I step closer. “I know you’re scared. Hell, I’m terrified. But what if we could get it right this time?”
She’s quiet for a long moment, studying our joined hands. When she peeks up, something shifts in her expression.
“Callum, the media is going to be relentless. They’ll dig up every mistake, every nasty detail from before.”
“Let ’em. I’ve got nothing left to hide.”
“And when they start analyzing why I was in Paris… Who I’ve been spending time with and where I’ve been… They won’t let up, and I want that part of my life to myself. It’s nobody’s business.”
My jaw tightens. The mysterious man she won’t name. The one who left her hanging while he jet-sets around the globe on “important business.”
“Then, Lily, we’ll deal with it together like we used to.”
“Will we? Or will you revert and spiral again when things get hard?”
The questions shoot deep because they’re fair. It’s the fear I see lurking behind her eyes—that I’m still the same broken boy who bowed to manipulation over love and who she thinks cheated on her years ago.
“Lily, I can’t promise perfection. But I can promise I’ll fight for us instead of letting people get between us this time.” I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of it.
She shivers at the contact, and hope explodes in my chest.
My love for her takes over. “I’m curious, vixen. Would I be pushing my luck if I asked you to come home with me tonight?”