40. Chapter Forty #2
Are you okay?
I nodded back, barely visible. Yes.
Evan left the stage.
The lights shifted. Changeover began. Crew moved fast. My band took their positions. Harper rolled her shoulders and twirled one stick once, because she was dramatic and had been pretending not to be for years.
I stood at the edge of the curtain, letting the moment settle into my bones.
Finn stepped closer. "You good?"
I swallowed. "Yeah."
His eyes shifted with something close to pride. "That was equal."
"That's the point."
The intro track hit.
The crowd screamed.
I walked onto the stage, and the room turned toward me like a tide.
I didn't think about Evan. I didn't need to. I owned this.
I sang my opener with my whole body, voice clean, breath steady, joy sharp enough to cut through the noise. I moved across the stage with the confidence I had once faked and now lived.
The show flew. Song after song.
The crowd sang my lyrics back to me, hands raised, faces bright. I told a story about writing one track in a motel room with a broken heater. I laughed when someone in the front row shouted they loved my boots.
Halfway through, I stepped to the edge of the stage and looked out at the sea of people.
This was expansion. This was love that didn't ask me to fold.
When the show ended, the applause hit hard enough that my chest ached. I took my bows. Pointed to my band. Blew a kiss to the crowd.
I walked off stage sweaty and smiling, adrenaline humming through my veins.
Harper grabbed me by the shoulders immediately. "You were insane."
I laughed. "Thank you."
Her eyes sharpened. "You okay?"
"Yes."
Finn stepped in with a water bottle. "Press."
I groaned. "Of course."
"Ten minutes."
I chugged water, scrubbed my face with a towel, and wrangled my hair into something that almost passed for presentable.
Grant appeared. "You were amazing. Now do not bite a reporter."
My mouth twitched. "No promises."
His eyes narrowed. "Lila."
I sighed. "Fine. Boring answers."
Finn nodded. "Boring is good."
We moved into a small backstage press area where a camera crew waited under bright lights. The interviewer stood with a mic and a grin, too excited to be normal.
Evan stood off to the side, already there, hands in his pockets, hair damp from sweat. He looked relaxed. He also looked careful.
His publicist hovered at a respectful distance.
My pulse jumped when I saw him. Then it steadied.
Evan's gaze met mine. He smiled, small and real.
I stepped beside him, leaving a small space between our bodies that read professional without coming across as cold.
The interviewer's eyes lit up. "Okay, wow. Nashville, you were on fire tonight."
I smiled politely. "Thank you."
The interviewer turned to Evan. "And you, surprise opener. People are losing it."
His mouth twitched. "They love a surprise."
The interviewer leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "We have to ask. How does it feel to have Evan as your opener?"
I kept my smile steady. I could feel the camera's lens, hungry. The internet waiting to twist it. Old versions of myself wanting to shrink, wanting to make it a joke, wanting to dodge.
I didn't.
"It feels right," I said. "I'm no one's secret. He's no one's shadow. We're partners."
The interviewer blinked, caught off guard by the firmness.
Evan didn't jump in. Didn't redirect. Didn't make it about him.
He nodded once, then added one line, the way he had on the carpet. "She built this. I'm proud to support it."
The interviewer's grin shifted into something almost respectful. "That's… a statement."
"It's the truth."
The interviewer tried one more time. "So you're public."
I nodded. "On our terms."
Evan answered without hesitation. "No hiding."
The interviewer smiled, then shifted to safer topics, asking about the tour, the setlist, the production design. I answered with energy. Evan backed me without taking the center.
When the interview ended, the crew thanked us and started packing up.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Evan bent closer, keeping his words between us. "You were unreal tonight."
My mouth twitched. "So were you."
His eyes moved toward the hallway. "Harper looked like she wanted to throw a shoe at me."
I laughed. "That's her love language."
"Good to know."
Harper appeared immediately, as if summoned by her name. "Don't talk about me."
Evan lifted his hands. "I said you were intimidating."
Her eyes narrowed. "Correct."
Finn stepped between them. "We're doing the duet."
Harper's head snapped toward him. "We are?"
I felt my pulse kick. "We are."
Evan's gaze flicked to me. There was a question in his look, and an invitation tucked behind it.
I nodded once, clear. His smile turned real. "Okay."
We had planned it quietly. One song. End of the night. No announcement ahead of time. No hype beyond a single vague post from me earlier that day.
See you at twilight.
Fans had screamed in the comments. They didn't know. Now they would.
The stage manager called time. Evan and I moved into position behind the curtain. My band shifted, ready. The lighting tech hovered near the board.
A stage manager's voice came through the headset system. "Twilight lights on my cue."
Harper, now back behind her drums, shot me an innocent look.
I narrowed my eyes. "Harper."
She didn't look sorry. "Don't get sentimental."
Finn stepped close. "Consent check."
I didn't blink. "Yes."
He nodded and stepped back.
Evan stood beside me, close enough that I could feel him there, far enough that it still felt like choice. He didn't touch me. He just stayed beside me.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah."
His eyes held mine. "If you want me to step back, I will."
"I want you here."
He exhaled. "Okay."
The curtain rose.
The crowd screamed when I stepped out again. The noise hit hard. I lifted a hand, smiling, letting them have the moment.
Then Evan walked out beside me.
The scream changed. Fans lost their minds. Phones rose. People shouted our names. Someone screamed Twilight so loud I laughed into the mic.
Evan stepped to the mic beside mine, gaze on the crowd, then flicked to me.
He waited.
I spoke first. "Hi."
The crowd screamed again.
"We're going to do something for you."
The crowd roared.
Evan leaned toward his mic. "You better sing."
I shot him a look. "You better behave."
His mouth twitched. "No promises."
The cue hit.
The stage washed in twilight-colored lights, a gradient that looked like sunset fading into night. Purple and deep blue crossed the stage. Soft pink highlights caught the edges of my hair.
The irony of it would have made old me flinch. This version of me smiled.
Music started.
The opening notes of "Rewrite Me" rolled out, and the crowd screamed again, recognizing it immediately. The end credits song. The one that had made my name unavoidable.
I stepped into the first verse, clear and steady.
Evan joined on the second line, harmony smooth, familiar in a way that made my chest ache. Our voices braided together without fighting.
It didn't sound like him featuring me. It didn't sound like my borrowed stage. It sounded equal.
I moved closer to him during the chorus, turning toward him for one line, sharing the mic space on purpose.
He leaned in, careful not to make it a spectacle.
The crowd watched, screaming, phones shaking. I kept my eyes forward, then turned back to Evan for the final chorus.
Our gaze met for a beat. It felt steady. Partnership instead of performance.
I sang the last line and held it, letting it ring, then let the mic drop slightly as the music softened.
Evan's hand lifted, hovering near my lower back without touching. An invitation, not an assumption.
I nodded once and stepped into his space, letting his hand rest lightly at my back.
The crowd erupted.
I laughed, breathless and a little dizzy, like I'd just spun around too fast at a middle school dance.
Evan leaned into his mic. "Make some noise for your headliner."
The crowd screamed.
I turned toward the audience, smiling wide, and lifted my hand to point at my band. At Harper. At the crew. At the people who made my stage real.
Then I turned back to Evan, grin softening into something that belonged to us.
No apologies. No hiding. Only the truth standing there in stage lights.
We took our bow together, then I stepped forward, claiming the center as I always did. Evan stayed slightly behind me, visible, supportive, present.
No shadow and no takeover.
When we walked off stage, the noise followed us into the wings.
Harper grabbed me in a quick, fierce hug, then shoved me back to arm's length. "You did it."
I blinked. "We did it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. You did it."
I laughed, full and bright. "Okay."
Finn appeared with a water bottle and a grin that looked suspiciously emotional. "The internet is on fire."
I groaned. "Great."
"Good fire," he said.
Evan stood a step away, watching me with a smile that made the hallway feel quieter than it was.
I walked to him and took his hand, no hesitation. His fingers tightened around mine.
"Hi," I said.
His eyes crinkled. "Hi."
"Thank you for opening. For doing it the right way."
His throat moved. "Thank you for inviting me."
My chest warmed. "You're welcome."
We moved down the hallway toward the dressing rooms, still holding hands, still surrounded by crew, still inside the chaos of tour life.
It felt weirdly, wonderfully normal.
As we passed a mirror in the hallway, I caught our reflection and thought about the old motif that had haunted me.
There it was again. Irony.
The way the world had tried to turn us into a tragic punchline.
I looked at Evan's hand in mine. My tour poster taped to the wall. The crew moving around us, building my stage because it was mine.
The irony had changed shape. This time, it didn't swallow me.
It stood beside me.