Epilogue
WILLOW
It turns out touring with rockstars is significantly less glamorous than people think.
There’s a lot more waiting around in hallways than anyone tells you. Also a deeply alarming amount of energy drinks.
And cables. So many cables.
“Why are there this many wires?” I ask, stepping carefully over another tangled pile backstage.
Julian glances up from where he’s sitting on an equipment case tuning a guitar. “Nobody knows. I think they reproduce when left unsupervised.”
“That explains sound engineers,” Gabe mutters beside me, scanning his tablet.
A nearby crew member laughs nervously like he isn’t sure whether Gabe’s joking.
It’s been two weeks since The Last Rebels officially launched the tour, and somehow my life has become an endless blur of stadium lights, security checkpoints, backstage passes, and watching grown men scream lyrics into microphones like they’re trying to physically exorcise their emotions.
Very healing for everyone involved.
The craziest part?
I kind of love it.
Not the fame, exactly. That still feels strange.
There are still moments where cameras flashing unexpectedly make my stomach tighten or where strangers recognizing me in airports feels deeply unnatural.
But I’m getting used to it.
Or maybe, I’m getting used to them.
Having Xander’s hand at the small of my back in crowded spaces. Julian making me laugh whenever things start feeling overwhelming. Gabe stepping between me and everything else before I even realize I need him to.
The press has calmed down, too.
Mostly because The Last Rebels reunion completely hijacked the media cycle exactly the way Gabe predicted it would.
Now every entertainment site on earth seems obsessed with Dylan and Xander rebuilding their relationship, the new album, the sold-out world tour, The Lonely Ones’ new single, and Redemption Records exploding into one of the hottest labels in the industry practically overnight.
Which means fewer headlines about me. And the ones that are about me are much easier to deal with.
Thank goodness.
Though the internet still refers to me as “the Redemption Falls girl,” which sounds vaguely like an urban legend. I’m choosing not to unpack that.
Tonight’s show was in Chicago.
Massive venue. Completely sold out.
And judging by the screaming still echoing faintly through the backstage corridors, The Last Rebels absolutely destroyed the place.
Again.
I stand near the side stage curtain watching the final crowd filter out while crew members break equipment down around us.
The adrenaline after a show is weirdly contagious.
Everything backstage buzzes. Exhaustion mixed with excitement. Sweat and laughter and noise.
Dylan’s currently arguing with a lighting technician about whether setting off additional pyro “for the vibe” should count as a fire hazard.
It should.
Meanwhile Julian has somehow stolen half the catering table and is constructing what appears to be a sandwich with no structural integrity.
“Vegetables are important,” I tell him.
“This has lettuce.”
“That’s one leaf.”
“Nutrition is about balance.”
Gabe walks past us carrying two laptops and a coffee despite the fact it’s nearly midnight.
“How are you still conscious?” I ask.
He doesn’t even look up. “Spite.”
“Same.”
Xander appears a second later from the opposite hallway, still dressed in black stage clothes from earlier, tattoos disappearing beneath rolled sleeves while sweat dampens the dark hair at the back of his neck.
And even after everything, even after months of this, my stomach still flips a little when I look at him.
His eyes find mine, and just like always, the rest of the room fades.
That look.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Like he sees me first every single time.
“You ready to head back?” he asks, once he reaches us.
I nod. “Please. If I eat one more backstage protein bar, I’m suing all of you.”
Julian gasps dramatically. “Those bars are artisanal.”
“They taste like drywall.”
“Expensive drywall.”
Gabe finally closes one of the laptops with a sigh. “The jet leaves in an hour.”
“Home,” Julian says happily around a mouthful of sandwich. “Beautiful concept.”
Home.
The word catches me unexpectedly, because somehow, somewhere along the way, the compound became exactly that.
Mine, too.
We start moving through the backstage corridors together after that, security trailing a few steps behind while exhausted crew members wave goodnight as we pass.
I barely notice most of it anymore.
The noise. The movement. The attention.
Maybe because now I know where I belong inside all of it.
Outside near the private loading area, cool night air hits my skin.
The city shines around us, lights stretching endlessly into the dark while distant traffic hums below.
It’s strangely quiet after the noise of the arena.
Julian stretches dramatically beside me. “I think I lost hearing in one ear during the encore.”
“You say that after every show,” Gabe points out.
“Because rock and roll is sacrifice.”
“You forgot ear protection again.”
“Details.”
I laugh softly, leaning back against the SUV beside them while security loads equipment nearby. And I’m hit with it. This weird overwhelming rush of affection, for all of them, for this ridiculous, complicated life.
For the fact that, somehow, the sarcastic diner waitress from Redemption Falls ended up here in the middle of Chicago after a sold-out stadium show surrounded by three men who somehow turned into home.
Dangerous thought. Very dangerous thought.
Xander must notice the shift in my expression because his gaze narrows. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” Julian says.
“I’m literally standing right here,” Gabe adds dryly.
I smile helplessly. “I just…” My throat tightens unexpectedly. “This all still feels a little unreal sometimes.”
Then Xander steps closer first. “You know, I spent years thinking I’d never want this life again.”
I blink.
He doesn’t usually talk about feelings in public spaces. Actually, he barely talks about them in private spaces, either.
“I hated what fame turned everything into,” he continues. “The noise. The pressure. The constant performance.” His eyes stay locked on mine. “Then you showed up.” Emotion catches in my chest. “You made it feel real again.”
Julian exhales softly beside me like even he wasn’t prepared for that sentence.
Then Gabe steps forward, too, one hand sliding into the pocket of his coat while the other reaches for me.
Warm fingers thread carefully through mine.
“I built Redemption Records because I wanted artists to have somewhere safe,” he says. “Somewhere honest.” His thumb brushes lightly against my knuckles. “I didn’t realize I wanted that personally, too.”
My chest physically aches now.
“That’s what you gave us,” Gabe says.
I look at him helplessly. Then toward Julian.
He grins faintly when he catches me looking.
“Ah,” he says softly. “We’re all confessing things now. Cool.”
I laugh shakily.
But his expression softens afterward. “I spent most of my life convincing people I didn’t need anything serious,” he says. “Commitment, feelings, all that terrifying grown-up nonsense.”
“Terrifying,” Gabe agrees solemnly.
“Exactly.” Julian looks back at me. “Then, somehow, you became my favorite part of every room.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Tears burn behind my eyes.
Absolutely unacceptable.
I look away quickly before they can fully form, but Xander’s already stepping closer again.
His hand slides gently beneath my chin. “Hey.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble.
“You’re crying.”
“I’m overwhelmed. There’s a difference.”
Julian points at me. “That’s exactly what I said during tax season.”
Gabe sighs. “You can’t flirt your way out of accounting.”
“Watch me.”
I laugh through the tears because this is just my life now.
Then Xander’s expression shifts. He glances briefly toward Gabe and Julian before looking back at me.
“We’ve been talking,” he says.
Immediate panic.
“Why does that sound terrifying?”
“Because you know us well,” Gabe says dryly.
Julian moves closer too, leaning casually against the SUV beside me. “But we’re serious about this.”
My stomach flips.
Xander’s thumb brushes lightly beneath my eye again, catching another escaped tear before it falls.
Then he reaches into the inside pocket of his coat.
My breath catches.
No. No way.
“Xander,” I whisper.
Julian laughs nervously beside me. “Okay, wow, suddenly I forgot every word in the English language.”
Gabe looks calmer, but only barely. There’s tension in his shoulders now too. Which means this is real.
Xander opens a small black velvet box carefully.
Inside sits a ring.
Vintage looking. Oval diamond surrounded by smaller stones that catch the Chicago skyline lights like stars.
I physically stop breathing.
“We know this doesn’t exactly fit traditional standards,” Xander growls. “None of us have ever cared much about traditional.”
Julian snorts softly. “Understatement of the century.”
But his eyes never leave me.
Neither do Gabe’s.
Xander steps closer again. “We love you, Willow.”
Joy crashes through me so hard my knees almost give out.
“All of us,” Gabe says softly.
“And we want you to know that we choose you. Always,” Julian adds.
Xander takes my shaking hand carefully in his. “So, marry us.”
The world goes completely silent.
No traffic. No crew voices. No city noise.
Nothing.
Just them. Three men looking at me like I’m the center of every future they can imagine.
And maybe I should panic.
Maybe I should spiral about logistics and legality and public reaction and the fact this sounds absolutely insane.
But instead, all I can think is: Of course, it’s them. Of course, my impossible love story ended here. With three rockstars proposing beside a black SUV behind a sold-out stadium while security pretends not to stare directly at us.
A hysterical laugh escapes me through the tears already falling freely now.
Julian brightens. “That’s good, right? I feel like crying and laughing is promising.”
“I can’t breathe,” I tell him.
“Same,” he says. “I’m having heart palpitations.”
Gabe smiles then. Small and real and devastating. “Take your time, sweetheart.”
But I already know. I knew a long time ago.
Somewhere between diner coffee and late-night walks and media disasters and falling asleep tangled together in the compound while Daisy snored at our feet.
They became home.
All of them.
I look at Xander first.
Then Gabe.
Then Julian.
And I smile through tears.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Julian shouts loud enough to echo off the buildings. Gabe exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year. And Xander kisses me before I can say anything else.
Somewhere behind us Julian is still yelling. I’m pretty sure Gabe’s laughing. And standing there beneath the Chicago skyline with the city dancing around us and the future opening wide in front of me…
I kiss him back like I already know forever when I see it.
THE END