Page 49 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

He’s still glowing. Standing in the center of that stage like it was built for him, guitar slung low, voice full of soul and sunlight and things I never dreamed I’d feel. The crowd is hanging on every note, and I’m hanging on every breath.

He just played my song.

And somehow, my heart is still beating.

Lucas glances over from his post beside the soundboard, shooting me a grin that says now’s your moment. I can see the question in his eyes—you sure?

I nod before I can think too hard.

And then I’m moving.

One step.

Two.

Out onto the stage.

The second I cross the threshold into the spotlight, the crowd roars in surprise—but it fades into static behind the thrum of blood in my ears. My legs are trembling. My palms are slick. But I keep walking, my eyes locked on him.

Eddie turns toward the sound. His eyes land on me.

And for a second, he just stares.

Then the biggest smile I’ve ever seen breaks across his face, slow and stunned and absolutely full of wonder.

“Laney,” he says, breathless.

The crowd cheers louder.

I stop a few feet from him, suddenly frozen again—but then he’s striding toward me and sweeping me into his arms before I can blink.

He lifts me off the ground, spinning me in a slow circle, then sets me down and cups my face with both hands. “Holy shit,” he laughs, eyes glistening. “You came out here.”

“You’re not the only one who gets to surprise people,” I murmur, half-laughing, half-ready to pass out.

He kisses me right there under the lights, in front of thousands of people, like we’re the only two in the world.

When he pulls back, his voice echoes across the venue. “Y’all want to talk about beautiful?” he grins. “Look at my wife.”

The crowd cheers and whistles. I duck my head, cheeks burning, but Eddie takes my hand, anchors me with a squeeze.

“You ready?” he asks, quieter now, just for me.

I nod, heart racing. “Only if you are.”

His fingers brush over the mic stand, then he signals the band with a simple nod.

The first notes of Breathe with Me play—soft, stripped down. A duet we wrote together months ago. A song born in the studio on a rainy afternoon, just us and a guitar and too much love to hold in silence.

He sings the first verse.

His voice is honey-warm and steady.

Then I open my mouth.

And I sing.

The moment the words leave me, the nerves begin to dissolve. The crowd, the lights, the stage—all of it fades into nothing as I look at the man standing across from me.

My husband.

My anchor.

My safe place.

I sing about the way his love found me in the dark, about the way his hands feel when they hold my fears. I sing about home, about hope, about the moment I realized I could breathe again—because of him.

He harmonizes, his voice wrapping around mine like a heartbeat.

And in that moment—it’s just us.

Our fingers stay twined as we sing the final chorus, barely above a whisper. My eyes sting. His shine. And when the last note fades, there’s a heartbeat of perfect silence before the crowd erupts.

He lets go of the mic, pulls me into him, his arms locking around my waist. “You were incredible,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my forehead. “You’re everything, Laney. Everything.”

I press my face into his chest and breathe him in—sweat, leather, and all that Eddie warmth that makes me feel safe no matter where I stand.

“I’m so glad I found you,” I whisper. “You changed my life.”

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “You changed mine.”

And standing here under the lights, wrapped in the arms of the man I love, I realize—

This is our forever.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The End