26. Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Vince
The arena quakes with the roar of twenty thousand voices chanting for more. My fingers are bleeding—I can feel it even if I can’t see it through the sweat and the stage lights—but the pain is nothing compared to the electrical current running through my veins. This is what I was born for. This feeling. This moment.
“One more?” I shout into the mic, and the crowd’s response nearly blows my eardrums.
Sam catches my eye, that wild grin of his spreading across his face as he adjusts his bass strap. “Let’s close with “Midnight til Dawn,” he mouths to me and Cass.
Perfect choice. It’s the song that launched us, that first viral hit that took us from being an unknown band to stadium fillers. I nod, turning to signal Nate behind his drum kit, and we launch into the opening chords that are now almost muscle memory.
But even as my body goes through the motions—strumming, working the stage—my mind is nine hundred miles away, replaying Quinn’s voice from our last call. The careful neutrality that couldn’t quite disguise her doubt. The questions she didn’t ask. The hesitation before she said she believed me.
I haven’t slept properly since those photos hit the internet. Two days of performing on pure adrenaline, checking my phone for texts that aren’t there, and answering everyone’s questions with a fake enthusiasm that fools no one.
Her words: ‘It feels like you’re straddling two worlds, Vince. And I don’t know where I fit in that picture,’ replay in my head, over and over, as I hit my guitar strings, my fingers finding that raw edge that the song demands. Where does she fit? She fits perfectly with me and Jasmine. But how do I prove that when I’m still on this goddamn tour with three more days to go?
The encore song builds to its crescendo, and I lose myself in the final guitar solo, letting the music say what I don’t have words for. Pain. Need. Redemption. When we hit the final chord, the stage goes black, and the crowd’s screams follow us as we jog off stage toward the green room.
“Fucking killer show,” Cass pants, pounding me on the back as we stumble down the corridor. “You were on fire tonight, man.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, already reaching for my phone—no new messages.
Luke nudges me with his elbow. “You hear from Quinn today?”
“Not yet. She’s probably busy with Jasmine.” I try to keep my tone casual, but from Luke’s sympathetic grimace, I’m not succeeding.
“She’ll come around,” he says. “Those photos were bullshit, and anyone who’s seen how you are lately knows that.”
“Does she, though?” I ask the question that’s been haunting me finally finding a voice. “Does she see how I am now—the real me? Or does she only see the old Vince, not the me I’ve been trying to be for the last few months?”
“No offense, bro, but the ‘old you’ was a walking disaster,” Luke says, not unkindly. “The guy you are now? That’s who you were always meant to be. Quinn sees that.”
I don’t have time to argue the point with Luke because we’ve reached the green room door. Nate is already there and shoves it open with his shoulder, immediately letting out a whoop of surprise and delight.
“Lacey? What the—“
I peer over his shoulder and feel my heart skip at least three beats. Because standing next to Lacey, her red hair hanging loose around her shoulders and wearing a snug black dress that makes her look like something from my most secret fantasies is Quinn.
“Surprise!” Lacey laughs, throwing herself into Nate’s arms. “We thought you guys could use some female company for tonight.”
I barely register her words because Quinn’s eyes have found mine, and the shy smile playing on her lips knocks every coherent thought out of my head. She’s here. She actually came.
“Hi,” she says, and it’s ridiculous how that one syllable sets my pulse racing.
“Hi yourself,” I manage, crossing the room in three strides. I want to pull her into my arms, but I hesitate, suddenly unsure of where we stand. “This is... unexpected.”
“Good unexpected, I hope.” There’s a vulnerability in her eyes that makes my chest ache.
“The best kind,” I say honestly.
Before I can say more, the rest of the room seems to swallow us up. Emily is there with Lila, both crowding around to hug Quinn and Lacey. Cass is sprawled on one of the couches, his arm around Kendrick, and both of them are looking on with amusement. Someone hands me a glass of water, and I accept it automatically, though I don’t take my eyes off Quinn.
“Attention, everyone!” Nate’s voice cuts through the chatter. He has his arm firmly around Lacey’s waist, his face flushed with more than just post-show adrenaline. “We have an announcement.”
The room quiets, and Lacey beams up at him, her Hollywood smile set to full wattage. “We’ve set a date for our wedding,” she says, holding up her left hand where her engagement ring catches the light. “Six months from now, we’re getting married.”
The room erupts in cheers and congratulations. I clap Nate on the back, genuinely thrilled for my friend. “About damn time,” I tell him.
“You’re telling me,” he laughs. “And all of you better start working on the reception speech now because if it sucks, Lacey will never let any of us hear the end of it.”
“No pressure,” I deadpan, but we’re all honored, and he knows it.
As everyone clusters around the happy couple, I feel a gentle touch on my arm. Quinn has moved to my side, and the proximity sends a jolt through me.
“I wanted to see you,” she says quietly, answering the question I haven’t asked. “Lacey called and said she was flying out for the last three days of the tour, and... I don’t know. I thought maybe we should talk in person.”
“I’m glad you came,” I say, fighting the urge to pull her close. “Really glad. Does Grace know you’re here?”
Quinn nods. “She said to tell you Jasmine is having fun with the new bounce swing you had delivered. And to trust that she’s in good hands.”
The simple statement hits me harder than it should. Trust. It’s such a small word for such a massive concept. Can Quinn trust me with her heart?
Before I can pursue that line of thought, Lacey walks over. “I’ve taken care of all the logistics,” Lacey adds. “Hotel rooms for everyone—except Cass and Kendrick, who insisted they prefer their family home on wheels.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I tell her sincerely.
“Please, this is nothing. Just wait until you see what I’ve planned for the wedding.” She winks and drifts back to Nate, leaving Quinn and me in our small bubble of relative privacy.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say softly. “But I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you did.”
Quinn takes a deep breath, and I can see her gathering her courage. “I didn’t like how we left things. The distance, the uncertainty—it was making everything worse. And then I realized that we promised to communicate, to face things together. So here I am.”
“Here you are,” I echo, finally giving in to the need to touch her. My hand finds hers, our fingers intertwining like they know exactly where they belong. “Does this mean... are we okay?”
The question hangs between us, fragile and vital. Quinn squeezes my hand, but before she can answer, Sam crashes into our space, slinging his arms around both our shoulders.
“Quinn! Welcome to the madhouse,” he exclaims, oblivious to the moment he’s interrupted. “Glad to see you here. Vince has been grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something.”
Quinn laughs at his remark while I just give his departing back a glare.
“Did you want to go out with the others or—“
“I want us to have our own night—just you and me. I’d like to actually talk—not because I don’t trust you—but because I want to be with you. Does that make sense?”
Relief floods through me. “Perfect sense,” I assure her.
The hotel Lacey chose is pure luxury—all gleaming marble and hushed elegance. The kind of place that makes you automatically whisper like you’re in a library or a church. In the elevator, Quinn leans against me, her body a warm line against mine, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to pin her against the mirrored wall and kiss her senseless.
We walk down the hall in electric silence, the tension between us building with each step. When she slides the keycard into the lock, my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure she can hear it.
Inside, the room is bathed in the golden glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quinn sets her purse on a side table and starts to walk toward me with a come hither look in her eyes.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” I say, taking a step forward.
She meets me halfway, her hands coming up to grab my t-shirt. “I think we’ve done enough talking on the phone,” she murmurs. “Right now, I’d much rather...”
Instead of finishing her sentence, she rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine. It’s a searching kiss, almost tentative, but it ignites something in me that’s been smoldering since I saw her in that green room. My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against me as I deepen the kiss, pouring days of longing into it.
Quinn responds with equal passion, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body arching into mine. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and the vulnerability in her eyes has been replaced by a heat that makes my blood sing.
“Are you sure?” I ask, needing to hear it.
“I’m sure about you,” she says, and the simple declaration unravels me.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed. She laughs softly against my mouth, a sound of pure joy that I want to capture and keep forever. As I lay her down on the crisp white sheets, her red hair fanning out around her like a halo, I’m struck by how gorgeous she is—and how grateful I am that she still wants me.
“I missed you,” I whisper, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. “Not just this—though God knows I missed this too—but everything. Your laugh. The way you roll your eyes when I say something ridiculous. The little crease you get between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating.”
“I missed you too,” she says, pulling me down beside her. “Even when I was angry, I missed you.”
Her hands find the hem of my t-shirt, tugging it upward, and I help her remove it, tossing it carelessly aside. Her cool fingers trace the tattoo over my chest.
She kisses me again, deeper, hungrier, her tongue teasing mine as her hands explore the planes of my back.
I find the zipper of her dress, sliding it down slowly, giving her time to stop me if she wants. But she only arches up, making it easier for me to peel the fabric away from her skin. The sight of her in delicate black lace nearly stops my heart.
“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, following the line of her freckles.
Quinn’s breath catches as my lips find the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, urging me closer. I take my time, worshipping every inch of exposed skin, learning her body all over again. The soft sigh she makes when I kiss the inside of her wrist. The way her stomach muscles clench when my fingers graze her ribs.
“Vince,” she breathes, my name half plea, half demand.
I look up to find her watching me, her eyes dark with desire, her lips slightly parted. In that moment, I know with absolute certainty that this woman owns me completely. Body, mind, whatever control I thought I had—it’s all hers.
“Tell me what you want,” I say, needing to hear her say it.
“I want you, Vince.”