CHAPTER thirty-seven
You Calm All My Storms
Atlanta, Georgia
The response to our Nashville show is unlike anything I could have prepared myself for. Viral doesn’t even scratch the surface: it’s an avalanche.
Within hours, videos of Elias’s love song—filmed from every possible angle—flood the internet. People dissect every frame, every lyric, every stolen glance between us. The comments are a mix of awe and envy, strangers rooting for a story they’ve only just discovered.
Three days later, the whirlwind hasn’t slowed. Podcast invitations pile up in my inbox, Rolling Stone wants an exclusive, and the band’s socials are drowning in notifications. Emo girls everywhere are claiming Elias as their dream man or begging to know if we’re “actually real.”
So very real. I think as my heart flutters.
The guys had been secretly recording Cotton Candy Skies in the weeks leading up to the show; we dropped it the morning after Nashville, and it blew up instantly.
Streams tripled overnight. The handful of shows that weren’t sold out?
Gone. We’re officially touring at full capacity, and I’ve already started sketching out a spring run to coincide with the album dropping next year.
Now, sitting in a quiet corner of a coffee shop, I let the hiss of the espresso machine and the rich scent of roasted beans pull me into the present.
My laptop glows in front of me, but my phone keeps tempting me back to that night.
I’ve watched the videos more times than I’ll admit out loud, even though I don’t need them. The memory is carved into me.
I love him. More than I can say. And he loves me. And seeing Elias up there—weightless, free—lit something in me I didn’t know I’d been waiting for.
We’re in Atlanta now. The guys have been holed up in the studio for two days straight, prepping for tonight’s show. Sasha and I claimed this spot at Perc Coffee as our makeshift headquarters, her buried in merch inventory (because half our stock sold out already), me mapping out the future.
“Girl, this inventory software you found is legit,” Sasha says, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I’m basically just getting paid to stand around and look cute. Which, honestly, I’ve been training for my whole life.” She flips her braids over her shoulder with a grin.
I smirk into my iced coffee.
“So, we’re both living our dream jobs?”
“Absolutely. And to think…none of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t clocked that bozo right in the mouth.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
The Atlanta show is pure electricity—brighter, louder, somehow even more alive than Nashville. From the first chord, the crowd feels feral, feeding off every beat, every lyric. By the end of the set, instead of chanting encore, the entire venue thunders one phrase in unison: Cotton Candy Skies.
My throat tightens instantly. Tears sting, hot and unstoppable, when Elias steps back to the mic and begins playing it again—his eyes never once leaving mine. It feels like the whole world falls away, leaving only him, only us.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy.
To see him this happy. His soul seems weightless, unburdened, and I know down to my bones that this is the truest version of Elias.
The one buried beneath years of pain and shadow, finally accepting the light that we all know he deserves.
And I get to witness it. Be a part of it. That thought alone nearly undoes me.
And then, of course, he descends into the crowd, and the groupies descend on him. A sea of outstretched hands, glossy eyes, and breathless voices swarms him instantly. He’s signing ticket stubs and t-shirts, leaning down for hugs, laughing through the chatter.
I can’t even be jealous. Not really. Because when his gaze finds mine across the room, it softens, an expression equal parts tender and please rescue me.
A grin pulls at my lips. I lift my camera and snap a few photos, capturing the chaos, the glow on his face, the moment he belongs entirely to the music…and then the way he shifts, belonging entirely to me.
I weave through the crowd and step into the circle of fans, greeted by a chorus of squeals and exaggerated sighs.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say with mock apology, sliding in beside him. “But the venue’s closing, so I’m going to have to steal him away.”
The girls groan in unison, disappointment dramatic and loud.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I add with a smile, squeezing his hand.
Elias squeezes my hand in return, grinning as I tug him backstage. The noise from the crowd fades into muffled chaos behind us, replaced by the thrum of my pulse in my ears. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.
“I knew you secretly liked the groupie attention,” I tease, glancing up at him with a smirk.
He huffs a laugh, leaning down so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I think I might slightly regret professing my love to you… because holy shit.”
“No take-backs,” I say, laughing softly, then I grab his shirt and pull him to me. The kiss is deep, hungry, tasting of adrenaline and salt.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my mouth.
“I fucking love you.”
Before I can respond, he backs me into the wall. His body presses hard into mine, hand gripping my hair, tilting my head back slightly.
“You hear me?” he growls.
My leg hooks instinctively around his hip.
“I don’t think I did,” I tease.
He grins wickedly. His hand slides up my thigh, grips firmly, fingers curling tighter in my hair.
“Am I going to have to show you right here? Where anyone could walk in?”
My lips part with words on the tip of my tongue when the door bangs open behind us.
“Damn!” Cody’s voice booms through the room, equal parts delight and mischief.
“I always walk in too soon. One of these days, though…”
Elias mutters something under his breath, rolling his eyes as he steps back, loosening his hold but keeping his hand at my waist like he isn’t ready to let me go.
“You are seriously the weirdest person on this planet,” I laugh, face flushed, hand on my hip.
Cody smirks, unabashed.
“You love me.” He bats his lashes in exaggerated innocence.
“Unfortunately,” I shoot back, grinning despite myself.
“Also, for the record, I’m deeply offended you’ve never written me a love song,” he announces looking at Elias, planting his hands on his hips.
Elias fixes him with a stare sharp enough to draw blood.
Cody smirks. “Is it because Ramona has a cuter a—”
“Finish that sentence,” Elias cuts in, voice low and dangerous, “and I swear I’ll end you.”
The grin that spreads across Cody’s face is slow, wicked, inevitable.
“Ass.”
Elias lunges. I barely get out of the way before Cody cackles, dodging through the door just as Elias makes a grab for him. His laughter echoes down the hall, and the look on Elias’s face promises retribution the second he catches him.
I try to smother laughter behind my hand, but Elias hears it anyway. He turns back to me, the glare on his face melting into something far more dangerous—mischief sharpened by desire.
Before I can react, he hooks his fingers around my wrist and tugs me down a side hallway, long strides eating up the distance.
He pulls me into a small, dimly lit storage room.
The door clicks shut, and then my back hits it.
Elias reaches past me and turns the lock with a soft snap that feels louder than thunder in my chest.
His amber eyes drag over me, dark and burning.
“Now,” he murmurs, voice a sinful hum against my ear, “where were we?”
His lips trail down my neck before I can answer, teeth grazing my skin. A shiver races through me as he finds the soft spot beneath my jaw, claiming it with slow, savoring kisses.
I squirm, not to escape but because my body doesn’t know where to put all this heat.
He drags his mouth down my collarbone, his hands sliding beneath my shirt to lift it just enough to expose skin to his lips.
Then he lowers himself to his knees.
My lungs lose all air.
He looks up at me with something wild in his eyes—hungry and reverent.
“Elias,” I whisper, pulse stuttering. “Someone might hear us.”
His fingers find the button of my jeans, but his gaze never leaves mine.
“Then make sure you say my name, baby,” he says, voice a low growl, “so they know exactly who you belong to.”
He eases my jeans down with devastating patience, waiting for me to step out of them before running his hands back up my legs, slowly.
I can’t look away from him.
The way he stares at me, like I’m the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen… it nearly unravels me on the spot.
He hooks his fingers into my panties, watching my reaction, giving me a chance to stop him. When I don’t—when I can’t—he slides them down inch by inch. He makes a show of it, too, like he wants me to feel every second, every intention.
I should feel exposed.
I should feel vulnerable.
But I don’t.
With Elias on his knees in front of me, his hands on my thighs and his eyes devouring me.
I feel powerful.
He lifts one of my legs and hooks it over his shoulder, his grip firm. His breath ghosts over my center.
He looks up at me through thick lashes.
“I take back my death row meal,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You’re the last thing I want to taste before I die.”
The words punch straight through my composure, heat spiraling low in my belly.
His tongue follows a slow trail upward until it reaches my most sensitive spot. He swirls around my bud in a rhythm that stutters my breath.
I fist my hand in his hair, pulling him closer, chasing every sensation he gives me. Every brush of his mouth, every purposeful movement sends me higher, teetering on the edge of the bliss I can feel gathering.
“Elias—” I gasp, but the sound barely escapes before he reaches up and covers my mouth with his palm, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction as he continues feasting on me.
The world fractures around the intensity of it—his hands, his mouth, the way he holds me like he’s worshipping and claiming in the same breath. My head falls back against the door, the room spinning, heat curling through every nerve.
When the wave finally crests and breaks over me, every nerve is drowned in liquid heat.
After he soothes me from the peak he rises slowly, looking ruined and triumphant all at once.
My arousal shines faintly on his face. He swipes his middle finger slowly across his chin, next his lips, before he sucks it into his mouth with a low, satisfied sound.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine.
Something inside me snaps. I pull him up by the collar and crush my mouth to his, tasting his hunger, my own need, all of it tangled together. His hands slide over my hips, desperate, greedy, matching me stroke for stroke.
My fingers find the waistband of his jeans, my voice breaking into a whisper against his lips.
“I need you, Elias. All of you.”
“Every part of me is yours,” he says as he presses his forehead to mine, breath ragged, restraint hanging by a thread—and then he guides me back against the door, heat rolling off him in waves as the rest of the world falls completely away.