Chapter 28
April had seemed to take years to arrive and yet, in many ways, it seemed like such a short time since Quentin had last seen Raine in the flesh. He’d been following her online, appreciating her successes from afar, but seeing her in person was something else entirely.
The label had allowed him to go backstage, and he’d given the lame excuse that he wanted to hear their work live just once.
Fortunately, he knew Simon, Raine’s new tour manager.
Simon had been a TM for another band Jokers Wilder had toured with when they were still teenagers—and before he’d become full of himself—so there was no bad blood there.
In fact, Simon’s backstage greeting had been warm and friendly, and he’d led Quentin through the backstage area to the wings where he could watch Raine and her band without the audience even knowing he was there.
As he watched them—actually, his eyes only focused on her—he felt a sense of pride in how far she’d come.
Musically, she’d matured, and Quentin had started to doubt that it had had anything to do with him.
He’d encouraged and coaxed her—but it had been all her and only her.
He couldn’t really take credit for any of it, even though his name was listed as Producer on the CD jacket.
A slight frown crossed his face, because he felt like he didn’t deserve the credit.
Even though she had never replied to his email, the last song was on the album—and she performed it every night as the last song of the set. She was beautiful and brilliant, poised and in control.
And he regretted ever pushing her away…and not being there for her.
Every song Raine and her band played, it was easy to tell even without seeing the audience how much they loved it. There was no denying the sound and the energy in the place and he again filled with pride at how much she’d taken charge of her destiny.
She had earned every single bit of praise the audience showered upon her.
When they played “Harmony” near the end of the show, Quentin again smiled and nodded to no one but himself at how she’d crafted this rewrite—and, if the label was smart, they’d have her re-release the song as an alternate version on a future album.
After that song came another that they’d written together, one of the tracks not chosen as a single…
And then he knew. After that, she would perform the song called “Last Chance,” the song he’d arranged for her after she’d gone.
That meant it was time. Sucking in a deep breath, Quentin clenched his jaw and waited, trying to ignore how his heart was beating a little harder.
Raine began talking into the microphone.
“Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.
Friends, please let my band know how much you’ve loved them too.
Tom on bass, Diana on tracks, Bobby on guitar, and Jack on drums.” Between each introduction, Raine had to pause until the cheers died down.
Then she said, “Good night,” and walked off stage—not to the side where Quentin stood but the other.
As the lights dimmed, the audience began screaming, demanding that she return, and it wasn’t long before their chant was in sync. “Encore! Encore!”
After just a few seconds, Raine reappeared onstage by herself, beaming, an acoustic guitar strapped around her.
And it was time. Wiping his damp hands on his jeans, Quentin took a deep breath.
It felt like his boots were nailed to the floor.
He had to lift a foot before he could start walking onstage.
Was he really going to do this? He’d only taken one step and he wasn’t anywhere in view of the audience yet.
He could stop now and no one would ever know.
But he made his other foot take a step and finally, he was walking.
Although he didn’t want to hurry, he knew he couldn’t go at a snail’s pace, either, in case someone on her crew tried to stop him.
There was a collective noise, one that Quentin might later compare to a gasp, from the audience as people recognized who he was.
Raine turned her head and looked right at him. Not backing away from the mic, she took him in first, and he could read her expression like a book. Her face went from shock to anger in a split second. Her head turned from the mic, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
Quentin stopped just a foot away from her. “I would like the honor of playing this song with you.”
Then her gray-blue eyes changed—from looking angry to something else. It reminded him of a child who’d been stuck inside with a cold, forced to look out the window at all her friends having fun playing outside without her.
But it was more than that…and he recognized it, because he felt it too.
She nodded…and pulled the guitar strap off her neck, handing the instrument to him.
When he put it over his head, he had to adjust it so the guitar wasn’t resting up on his chest, and then he adjusted the guitar mic so it was in the right place.
After striking a couple of chords, he looked at Raine.
When she nodded that he was ready, he played the note that would start the song.
Goddamn. She was beautiful anyway, but when she sang that song, it was raw and gritty, showing the audience how the repaired cracks in a vase could be just as breathtaking as the smooth spots. Each word came out as truth, and the audience seemed to hold their breath, taking it in.
It wasn’t until the chorus that Quentin leaned over and began to sing. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how he’d arranged the song, even though it had been in his head for weeks: the verses and bridge were in first person, the chorus in third person, making it easy to sing as a duo.
When he sang, he looked at Raine, not the audience.
She picked up a guitar and wrote down all her fears
Through the rage, through the pain, and through all the tears.
She never really had a childhood, and the line was never clear.
But her whole life changed when they said, “Sign right here.”
When Raine began the second verse, she too looked at Quentin for just a split second.
“But I didn’t grow up fast enough, and the world came at me hard.
” As she sang through the verse, Quentin could feel something electric passing between them.
He didn’t know if it was forgiveness and decided it was likely remembrance.
After all, they’d worked together for months.
After Quentin sang the second chorus, Raine sang the bridge, the only time in the song where her voice went from quiet to powerful as she reclaimed what should have been her own the entire time.
This is my one last chance to make it, and
This time, I will learn from my mistakes.
This time, I will fix everything I break.
Like a phoenix, I will rise from the ashes.
I will right all the wrongs so I can sing my songs.
And thank all the people who followed me all along
And believed in me.
I’m only human, and I’ll sing the truth,
No matter what comes.
After that, they sang the chorus together—but this time, Raine harmonized while Quentin took the melody. When she looked at him, her eyes seemed to be moist, but she wasn’t crying.
When the song ended, the crowd went crazy, cheering and shouting and letting them know they loved it. Quentin wasn’t sure if any of that was for the duet or just because Raine was so perfect when she sang this song.
And then he spoke—to Raine, but the mic picked it up. “I should have been there for you. I let my old fears, the old Quentin, rule over me…but I wasn’t the one who had to pay the price. I won’t do that again.”
Now Raine did start to cry and he wanted nothing more than to wipe those tears away…but he didn’t know that he should.
Instead, he turned to the mic and spoke to the audience. “Folks, I wrote a song that I never intended for anyone to hear. But it’s the truth, and I’d like to play it just once.”
Again, there was a low murmur from the audience as he began playing the chords. But he turned to Raine and sang the song he’d written for her months ago.
I couldn’t blame you for leaving
Because I’d already walked another road.
The moment when you needed me most
I left you standing in the spotlight all alone.
I’ve seen inside your precious soul
And know what others have maybe never seen.
That’s why my knife cut so deep
Because I wasn’t there when you needed me.
When he turned to Raine, he couldn’t help but change the last line: “I’m asking you to give me one more chance.”
Jesus, he couldn’t read her eyes. Even though they were filled with tears, he didn’t know what they signified.
As he sang through the chorus, he sang the second verse a little more slowly, almost speaking the words. And, near the end of the verse, he hoped she knew he meant it all.
I want to wipe away all those tears you’ve cried,
Because I was why you walked out that door.
From this day forward,
I’ll be by your side.
Not gonna be like before.
You won’t have to hide.
To the stretches of the universe
I’ll never be able to fix yesterday,
But I’ll be there for you today,
Tomorrow, any time you need.
As he struck the last chord, the audience lost it, cheering and shouting—and he knew that they had given their blessing to a reunion.
But he didn’t know if Raine felt that way.
Finally, he said to her and only her, “I’m here if you want me.” But although his voice had been low, the audience still heard it, doubling their previous enthusiastic applause.
Raine nodded, more tears streaking her face, and then she put her hand in his as she smiled through the tears.