CHAPTER thirty-five
Words Still Echo On Repeat
Nashville, Tennessee
Tonight is the night we’ve been pouring our hearts into for the past two months. The first show of our headlining tour kicks off right here in Nashville—where it all began—which feels beautifully full-circle.
Ten out of fifteen dates are already sold out, including tonight’s, and the energy is charged.
I’ve watched the guys rehearse a hundred times, but I know seeing them take the stage, under the lights, with the crowd singing their lyrics back at them, is going to hit entirely different.
This is their moment, and I’m so damn proud.
Over the past month, Elias has spent more time with my family than I ever imagined he would.
Every moment outside of tour prep has been with us.
Somewhere between dinners on the back deck and lazy Sunday mornings, I’ve watched the tension in my mom’s shoulders ease, watched my dad’s protective silence soften into something like trust. For the first time, I feel like they don’t just tolerate us, they’ve fully accepted us.
It was my mom who told me about the morning Elias came over early to cook breakfast, how the three of them ended up talking before I woke up.
She said he was open—brutally honest, even—about his past, about the things he’s been through, about the weight he still carries from it.
How he understood their reservations because of what happened to my sister.
He didn’t sugarcoat anything, but he also made sure they knew: that chapter of his life is over. He’s worked hard to make sure of it.
Hearing that meant everything to them. And to me.
I never told Elias what my mom shared with me.
I didn’t want him to feel like they’d been silently measuring him, even though they absolutely were.
I can’t blame them for it. But watching him go out of his way to show them the man he is now, to earn their trust without ever realizing he’s doing it—makes me love him even more.
That’s something I’ve finally admitted to myself.
I haven’t said it out loud—not to him, not to anyone—but there’s no denying it anymore.
It’s there in the way my heart flutters every time I see him laugh, when he smiles.
The way he makes me feel beautiful and confident just being myself.
It’s in the way my world feels sharper, brighter, when he’s around, even with all his shadows.
Like, even the weight of his darkness can’t eclipse the brilliance he brings.
And when his eyes find mine, it’s as if I’ve become the very thing he’s been searching for all along, even if he didn’t know it.
I love Elias Hawthorne.
And loving him isn’t just about who he is now; it’s about everything he’s survived, everything he carries.
I believe he’s finally stepped into the person he was always meant to be, despite a world that seemed determined, time and again, to keep him from becoming it.
And somehow, even knowing that, or maybe because of it, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
I’m currently in the back room of the bus, leaning close to the mirror, finishing the final stroke of my cat eye. I twist the cap off my red lipstick, ready to complete the look, when I hear the soft creak of the door behind me.
Elias steps in, and the energy in the room shifts immediately—thick, magnetic. Our eyes lock, and his lips curve into that stunning smile that always undoes me.
“Hey, rockstar,” I murmur as he closes the distance between us, his arms sliding around my waist. I loop mine around his neck, fingers brushing the edges of his hair.
“You ready for tonight?”
“Born ready,” he says, then pulls me in for a kiss. It’s slow, lingering, and laced with promise. When he pulls back, his gaze travels over me, like he’s memorizing the sight.
“You look absolutely sinful,” he says
“I could say the same for you,” I whisper, trailing soft kisses along the edge of his jaw. “Think you’ve got a few minutes to let me have a taste?”
The low growl that rumbles in his chest sends a spark right between my legs. I guide him gently back until his shoulders rest against the door, reaching behind him to click the lock in place.
His shirt is gone in seconds, tossed aside without care. I press my lips to the hollow of his throat, then lower—feeling the tension in his body like the taut strings of a guitar. My hands slide to the button of his jeans, and I meet his eyes once more, asking without words.
I sink to my knees before him, the tension between us crackling like static in the air. His jeans slide down just far enough, revealing him fully, and the way his breath catches, the molten look in his eyes, sends a thrill racing through me.
“Ramona…” he rasps, voice wrecked with need.
With one hand wrapped around his base and the other braced against his thigh, I trace the length of him with my tongue, slowly, mapping every ridge and vein with devotion. His breath stutters above me, his fingers tightening in my hair.
I press a slow kiss to the base of him and run my tongue along the tip, giving special attention to the metal bar. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath my touch.
Every reaction, every sharp breath, every shiver spurs me on.
I take my time, exploring, savoring, learning the rhythm that makes his head tip back and a low moan spill from his lips.
The sound is raw, guttural, and for me alone.
There’s power in it, in knowing I’m the one who gets to see him like this.
“That feels so fucking good, baby,” he groans, voice low and unraveling. “Just like that, don’t stop.”
Encouraged by his praise, I deepen my rhythm, taking more of him with each pass. His body tenses, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring, and the sound he makes—unguarded and desperate—is burning into my soul.
“I’m close, sweetheart,” he says, looking down at me like a devil that I would gladly follow into Hell.
I squeeze his thigh in response, my silent permission.
A few more heartbeats, and I feel him come apart, a curse on his lips as his release hits the back of my throat.
I swallow every drop before rising slowly, licking my lips with a smirk I can’t hide.
His chest is still heaving, his skin flushed and glowing, strands of hair falling onto his face.
He pulls me into him and kisses me deep—no hesitation, no restraint. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, breath still uneven as he says, “How did I get so goddamn lucky?”
A laugh escapes me as I drag my fingertip along one of the inked lines on his chest.
“You’re lucky I hadn’t put on my lipstick yet.”
His grin curves slowly and wickedly as he grabs my chin.
“Mmm…next time, you’re putting it on first so I can ruin it.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, possessive. It leaves my knees weak and my heart thundering against my ribs. His fingers find the button of my jeans, popping it open with ease, but I catch his wrist before he can go any further. I break the kiss, lips still brushing his.
“We don’t have time for that,” I murmur, breathless.
He groans softly, forehead falling to mine in frustration. I give him a playful shove toward the door.
“Go,” I say, laughter warming my voice. “You’re already late for soundcheck. I can’t wait to watch you kill it.”
He readjusts his pants and drags his shirt back on, slow and unwilling, and pauses in the doorway. A ghost of a smile curves his mouth—half challenge, half desire.
“Fine,” he mutters, eyes raking over me one last time, “but this isn’t over, Flowers.”
The promise crackles between us like static.
He squeezes my hand one last time before he disappears down the narrow hall, our fingers lingering until the very last second.
As the door clicks shut, I turn back to the mirror, heart still pounding, and swipe on my red lipstick with a smile.
Let’s do this.
I walk into the venue with a steady breath and a fire in my blood. Tonight marks the beginning of something that feels bigger than just a tour. It feels like a reckoning. A moment earned.
The guys are already on stage running through soundcheck, fluid and locked in, their bodies moving with the rhythm like it’s second nature.
After weeks of practice, I’ve watched them run this set so many times that I could probably do it in my sleep, but even now, they somehow manage to make it feel fresh.
The words of Regret is a Monster flow through the space:
You try to drown it out with noise
But it learns how to scream louder
Those words still echo on repeat
Until it has all the power
Unfixable, unworthy
Unredeemable, unlovable
Regret is a monster
It sinks its vicious teeth
It bites and gnaws and eats you alive
Until there’s nothing left to see
It doesn’t kill you quickly
Just slowly pulls you under
Leaves you standing in the dark
While it tells you who you are
I check the band’s socials from my phone.
The teaser I posted earlier is exploding: likes, shares, comments all pouring in from fans buzzing with anticipation.
Tonight’s show is sold out. The energy in the room hasn’t even peaked yet, and already I can feel it simmering under the surface like a fuse ready to ignite.
I take a short clip of the guys mid-song and add it to our story before making my way over to Sasha, who’s setting up the merch table like a woman on a mission. When she spots me, her eyes widen and she lets out a low whistle.
“Ro, you look dangerously fine right now,” she says, pulling me into a hug before stepping back and giving me a once over.
“You’re one to talk,” I shoot back with a grin. She’s rocking a black mini skirt with torn fishnets and a cropped AO tee knotted at the waist. Her braids are styled in twin space buns, the rest cascading down like a waterfall of ink. She looks like a punk goddess, and she knows it.
“You sure you’re all set for tonight?” I ask, gesturing toward the table. “I’m still here if you need backup.”
“I’m good, boss lady. You focus on doing your thing. Big-picture stuff.” She winks, and I try not to blush at the title. It still feels surreal.
When this all began, I thought I was just signing up for a summer distraction. But that impulsive decision turned into a full-blown career, and the guy I thought was just a passing face is now the person I can’t imagine my life without. Every day feels like borrowed magic.
I glance toward the stage as they come to the end of the song.
The stripped-down arrangement turns the room into a cathedral, every note from Elias’s mouth lands like scripture.
The recorded version is powerful, but this.
..this is something else. His voice is raw, trembling in all the right places, like he’s exhaling years of ache and regret into the mic.
It reaches places I didn’t even know music could go.
I’d rip it out of my chest if I could
I’d burn every word it said
But it lives in the spaces
Between who I am
And who I wish I’d been instead
Regret is a monster
It never sleeps, never starves
It leaves its fingerprints
On every broken part
I fight it every morning
But it knows me too well
‘Cause regret is a monster
And I built it myself
I’m so caught up in the moment I don’t notice my phone vibrating until the second ring. It’s my mom. I duck out the side door and see their car pulling up beside the bus. They step out in coordinated all-black outfits that scream: we Googled ‘what to wear to a rock concert’. I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, you two!” I wrap them both in a tight hug, feeling like the past and future are folding into each other all at once. As we step inside together the guys are now running through Scars, one of the new songs.
The scars I left will never fade
Buried deep beneath your gaze
Regret’s a ghost inside my veins
Haunting me through every day
You think your scars are hidden
Behind each smile
But I can see the cracks, every crimson stain
Because I wield the weapon of your silent pain
Once they spot us, Elias motions for the band to halt. Cody is now waving dramatically.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hendrix in the house! Lookin’ sharp!” he shouts. My dad laughs and throws him a thumbs-up.
Elias offers a softer greeting, just a nod and a gentle wave, but his smile lingers as he adjusts the mic stand, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy they’re here.
“Mom, Dad, you remember Sasha,” I say, guiding them toward the merch table. “She’s running point on merch while I handle the managerial chaos.”
“So lovely to see you both again!” Sasha beams, stepping around the table to hug them.
“You too, sweetie. You’ve got a cool setup here,” my mom says, still eyeing Sasha with amusement and admiration.
“Thank you, I can’t take credit, this is Ramona’s setup,” Sasha replies. “You made a dope-ass daughter, just sayin’.”
Before anyone can respond, a voice calls from behind.
“They also made a pretty dope-ass son, if I do say so myself.”
I spin around so fast I almost lose a heel, and there’s my brother, Ashton, grinning like a devil in disguise.
I nearly tackle him.
“Ash! What the hell are you doing here?!”
He laughs, catching me in a bear hug as tears blur my vision. Sasha swoops in with a tissue like the mind reader she is, saving my eyeliner from total ruin.
“I couldn’t miss your first solo tour kickoff,” Ashton says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I’ll never forget the way he screamed in excitement when I called to tell him about my promotion and the new tour.
The guys take a break and wander over to greet my family. Cody embraces Ashton like a long-lost sibling. Grady and Jasper follow with quick hugs and handshakes.
Elias comes up last. He offers Ashton a firm handshake, but my brother pulls him into a hug instead.
“You can thank this guy for getting my ass here; he made it happen,” he says, patting Elias’s chest.
Elias smiles bashfully, dipping his head slightly, a few dark strands falling onto his forehead.
I throw my arms around Elias’s neck, the hug landing harder than I intend, knocking him off-balance and maybe knocking the wind out of him. But I can’t help it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He clutches me tighter.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
I reluctantly let go of Elias and watch him and the boys head backstage for final preparations, the crowd already starting to filter in. He turns right before he disappears behind the door and meets my stare with a smile.
“Summer fling, my ass,” Ashton deadpans. I glance over just in time to catch the spark of mischief in his expression. My elbow lands squarely in his ribs, earning a dramatic grunt, but the smile tugging at my lips betrays my real feelings.