“Two minutes.” That same person rapped on the door again. It was brisk and louder than before. Their impatience was noted.

“I suppose it’s time.”

Luke stood and took my hand. When we stepped out in the hallway, a crowd of people were waiting for us. I didn’t know who they were, but they rushed us to the stage, and right before we got there, I heard my name being called. Elijah and Emerson were off to the side. Luke was pressing behind me. He had taken to walking like that, and I knew he was trying to protect me. He saw them too and pulled us from the group.

“Luke—”

He turned around, his eyes flashing a warning. “Stall. These are our friends.”

The stagehand frowned, but pressed a hand into a walkie and relayed the information. As we drew closer to Elijah and Emerson, Braden joined the group. Gunn was right behind him. The same crowd that had been rushing us to the stage formed a wall around us this time. They turned their backs to allow us privacy, and as they did, I felt safe from their prying eyes, and I could breathe a little easier.

Emerson noticed my reaction. The side of his mouth lifted up. “It’s a little shocking, isn’t it? All the sudden attention.”

I nodded, pressing my hand to my stomach. The nerves were still there, bouncing all around. “I think it’s worse because I’m a girl and I’m the new drummer.”

“Yeah.” Emerson hit Braden’s shoulder. “They sure loved this dumbass behind those drums.”

“Hey.” Braden’s hand covered where he had hit, but his eyes lit up. He was beaming. He had been growing out his hair, and because there was enough length, he had the sides of it braided. The top of his hair was set in spikes. He ran his hand over it now, gently pressing down on the tips. “You like my hair?”

“Rocker Extraordinaire.” Emerson smiled back, but he swallowed at the end of his statement. A hint of envy was evident. “You look awesome, like always, but you and Luke are the pretty boys of the band.” He hit Elijah’s elbow. “This guy’s the other pretty boy. He and I will hold Grant West down.”

Elijah bobbed his head up and down in one fell swoop. “Damn straight. We’ll represent home now.”

“Ha.” Braden was pretending to hit the air, his head moving up and down, in rhythm with the music playing in the background. “You guys hold the fort down. We’ll represent nationally.”

The teasing, going back and forth was good-natured, but as Elijah and Emerson both looked towards me, I felt a serious undertone slide into place. The group felt it, too, and everyone grew quiet for a split moment. Then Emerson said to me, “You’ll do great, Bri. I got a pass from treatment. They didn’t know I was coming here, but I had to come and say thanks.”

I was in the band. He was not, but he wasn’t talking about that.

Feeling my throat swell up, I murmured, “Yeah. You’d have done the same…” My sentence hung in the air. No one commented, then everyone started laughing.

Emerson shook his head, grinning. “No. No, I don’t think I would’ve. I was an asshole to you.” His eyes skirted from Elijah to Luke who was standing behind me with a hand on my hip. “I love these guys. Even if I don’t show it, I do, and I thought you were hurting them on purpose. I was wrong.” His gaze lingered on Luke. “I learned more about what you had to do, and anyway, I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who told him. Leaning back against Luke, his arm moved around me, and some of those nerves started to melt away. “Thank you, Emerson.” I meant it. My cousin was back. He was the cousin I always loved and who had loved me back. Glancing to Braden, who was watching the whole thing, I felt everything click into place. This moment was right. My family was here. Even our mom had been ushered to the dressing room earlier to wish me good luck.

I was ready for that stage.

As if he felt it too, Luke’s hand slid down my arm, and his fingers entwined with mine.

I looked up over my shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about it. You’re mine and I want everyone to know.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it eased my calm into excitement. I was about to go and play with him. Hearing the crowd’s chant of ‘Sustain’, instead of imagining their rejection, I let their cheers meld with me. They were buzzing. So was I. I started to feel the adrenalin in my body. My blood began boiling and the itch to slam my drumsticks down was beginning to fill me up.

I was nearing that intoxicated state. I was addicted. As Elijah and Emerson said their goodbyes and headed for their seats, Luke led the way, holding my hand. Right before we took the stage, I tried to pull my hand free.

He tightened his hold.

We were announced next and then, flashing me a grin, he led me out onto the stage. Walking out to the deafening sound of their cheers, I didn’t care that they saw us holding hands. Luke was right. They’d either love me or hate me. I wasn’t going to hold anything back. If I heard any boos, I wouldn’t care. Every cell in my body was ready to play. Hopping up onto my seat, I got ready. No matter what happened, no matter who came against us, no matter the fights between us, I knew we would be fine. We’d sustain, but now—I raised my drumsticks in the air. Luke looked back and nodded, and I slammed down on the bass—now, I was content to kick ass.