Chapter 13: The Arena

The arena in Raleigh held twelve thousand people, and I could hear every one of them through the wall.

It sounded like surf.

I sat on a road case outside the stage door.

I wore my own jeans and a Hollow Pines tour tee from my own table.

It was a 3XL, the biggest size we stock.

I had never worn one of our shirts on purpose before.

Stevie knelt in front of me and tugged the hem down over my hip.

"You look like the person who sells the shirts," she said. "That's the point, right?"

"That's the point."

"Okay. Then you look perfect and I hate everybody."

She kissed my forehead hard and went to find a spot in the wings.

Hank appeared at my elbow with his clipboard against his chest.

"Song seven," he said. "He'll stop playing, say your name, and you walk out. I'll be at the side of the stage the whole time."

"Is she here?"

"Deirdre flew in this afternoon." His mouth went flat. "She's in the production office. She asked me if you were still coming."

"What did you say?"

"I said you're a Doyle."

I laughed, and it came out thin.

The door at the end of the hall opened and Jude walked toward me with his guitar on his back.

He was in black, with silver on every finger and his hair pushed off his forehead.

The scar in his eyebrow caught the light.

He looked so good it almost felt like an insult to the day I was having.

He stopped in front of my road case and went down on one knee, so his face was level with mine.