Page 144

Story: Love Loathe Devotion

“They had no choice.”

Relief floods through me like a wave. “Eddie… that’s huge.”

“I’m free,” he says, quieter this time. “For the first time in years.”

I reach for his hand again, threading our fingers tighter. “So… what now?”

He smiles, and this time it’s full. Bright. Real. “Now? I build my own label.”

My mouth drops open slightly.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time,” he continues. “A label that doesn’t bleed artists dry. One that nurtures real talent. I’ve seen too many voices get lost because they didn’t fit the mold.”

I stare at him, warmth blooming in my chest. “You’d be amazing at that.”

He nudges my leg with his knee. “I was thinking of asking Lucas to manage the whole thing.”

My heart lifts. “You’re kidding?”

“There’s no one I trust more. Except maybe you and Nico. And Lucas… he needs a way to shift his world, you know? Something that gives him control again.”

“I love that,” I whisper. “So much.”

He watches me for a second, then leans in, brows lifting. “What about you?”

I blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.” His voice softens. “What do you want?”

I take a breath, surprised at how easily the answer comes. “I want to get back to music. But… I don’t think I’ll ever besomeone who can stand on a stage. Not with lights in my eyes and a crowd breathing down my neck. It’s just… not me.”

His lips curve into something devilish. “What about a crowd of one?”

Before I can reply, he scoops me into his lap, one arm strong behind my back, the other cupping my thigh as he adjusts me with infuriating ease.

I laugh, curling into him. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he teases, voice low against my ear. “Because I think this crowd of one is very passionate. Deeply invested. A devoted fan.”

“Mmm,” I hum, brushing my nose against his cheek. “Only if he behaves.”

“Oh, baby,” he growls, lips brushing the shell of my ear, “I’m never going to behave when it comes to you.”

I smile against him, my chest so full it aches. “I knew exactly who you were when I fell in love with you.”

His hand stills against my hip.

Then he whispers, “Say that again.”

I pull back just enough to look into his eyes—dark, golden, and wide with something vulnerable and wild and completely beautiful.

“I love you, Eddie Crowe.”

He exhales like I’ve just saved him.

And maybe I have.

Just like he saved me.