The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“Even if it kills you?” She grabbed my arm and forced me to look at her. “I love this. Touring. Video shoots. The crowds and the paparazzi. All of it. But you don’t. So why are you pushing yourself when it’s making you sick?”

“You know why, Ev.”

“That charity?”

“Yes, that charity. Helping Hands is going to save my ass.”

“Save you? You’re the one giving them half of your take of the tour.”

She didn’t get it. I’d been a kid who’d lived in a station wagon and plucked at a guitar, and now I was a guy headlining a sold-out global arena tour. The charity was my insurance so that guy wouldn’t forget that kid. So I could keep hold of who I was and where I’d come from when everyone else I cared about was so far away.

“We only have one more leg left,” I told Evelyn. “We get through that and Helping Hands International gets a very large check. Then I can feel like all this”—I waved my arms to encompass the arena”—is earned.”

And be the kind of man who deserves a woman like Violet.

“Only one more leg of the tour is twenty-three more cities across the US,” Evelyn said. “I worry about you, Miller. You leave so much on stage, night after night.”

“Because the fans deserve it. If they’re going to throw this much goddamn money at me, then I’d better give my best. Every night, every show, my absolute best.”

Evelyn started to argue, but Simon, the equipment manager, came up and looped an electric guitar around my neck.

“Just…be careful,” Evelyn said in a tone I didn’t like. Soft and full of concern.

Two years ago, she’d been a brassy, flirty handful, and I’d had to remind her numerous times not to cross a line with me. But lately, she’d grown mellower, watched me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Efficient, smart, good at handling people, she could’ve started her own PR company by now. She’d more than gotten her foot in the door, but she stuck around with me, fetching me shit and picking out clothes to wear for photo shoots.

One more reason to get through this tour.

My heart belonged to Violet. Only and forever. The attention of willing women was in ready supply on the road, but no matter how many after parties the band threw, I stayed away. I couldn’t drink, and someone was sure to snap a photo that would put me in a compromising position and break Violet’s heart.

I was doing a good enough job of that on my own, thanks.

I adjusted the strap around my neck and moved to the end of the corridor. The stage lay ahead, the crowd beyond. The lights went dark, and neon lights from thirty-thousand glow sticks swayed in an ocean of fans.

“Ten seconds,” Evelyn murmured into her headset. She listened for the go ahead from the show director, then gave my arm a gentle nudge. “Go.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, as I did before every show.

For you, Violet.

Everything was for her. When I stepped on stage, I could love her. I could throw it into the universe and hope it would find her, and she would feel it. I just had to get through this tour, do some good in the world, and then be with her. And doing good was how I could be the kind of guy Violet deserved.

There were a million ways to spend my life but only one that mattered.

I let the swelling thunder of the crowd fill me up. Their energy sustained me. Every night, I fed off of it and gave it back in my sweat and tears.

I strode onto the stage, followed the tape marking my path in the dark to my mic stand. And then one lone, green light fell over me. The stadium went crazy, an avalanche of sound. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me. Gratitude filled me up that so many people wanted to hear what I had to say. To let me bare my soul and tell my story every night on stage.

Every night, another step closer to Violet.

Wait for Me

A slow burn kiss caught fire

I tasted the sun, and you smiled

said let’s try together alone

We’ve both cried our last goodbye