Page 56 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter fifty-one

"Blinding Lights" - All Time Low

Mia

Backstage looks the exact same way it always has.

I breathe in the familiar smell of the stage fog, sweat, and energy drinks that seem to always be around. The black walls, fraying rugs, and mismatched folding chairs are almost comforting.

But I can’t help but think—this feels different.

I tell myself this is okay. That I’m okay. That stepping back into this space doesn’t have to be this big, life-changing thing unless I make it into one.

But it isn’t lost on me that this is the same venue where everything started. Where we started. Before the tour. Before we fell in love. Before the car flipped and everything cracked open. Before all of it.

Now, here I am again, feeling like I’ve aged a thousand years. Bruised. Still healing. But still his.

Physically, I look okay—more than, actually.

For whatever reason, Rylee insisted on doing my makeup tonight even though I’d told her I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. It had been a whole thing. She’d told me if I even thought about lifting a brush or, God forbid, doing my own eyeliner, she would tackle me.

In the end, I’d let her win. It’s easier, and I know it’s because she’s just trying to say she cares the only way she knows how.

Johanna has also been unusually enthusiastic, laying out my all-designer outfit for me as if I’m going to the first day of Kindergarten—not a rock concert.

Now I sit in front of the mirror, blinking at my reflection. Smoky eyes, perfect eyeliner, a soft-but-effective lip color, and just a touch of shimmer. My hair is curled into loose waves, and I have to admit—the outfit Johanna picked is perfect.

But it’s the spark in my eye that makes me pause.

It’s really me.

Not the girl in the ICU. Not the girl in pain. Not the behind-the-scenes girl.

The woman I’ve become.

The sought-after concert photographer. The woman who, somehow, has stopped running from the spotlight.

Me.

“You good?” Rylee asks from behind me.

Her tone is light, but I can hear the concern in her voice.

“Good,” I say. Then add, “A little terrified. But good.”

“You haven’t been scared of a crowd since the first night you performed,” Johanna says as she perches on the arm of the couch, surveying me like a very glamorous hawk. “You’ve got this, Mia. You know you do.”

I smile a little. “I’m not nervous about the crowd.”

“Wait…” Rylee leans forward, squinting at me through the mirror. “You know!”

“She definitely knows,” Johanna smirks. “She said not yet, not never. She knew he’d try again.”

I turn to face them, my brow raises. “He’s been acting like the sky is falling for days. You’re all being weirdly supportive—more than when I got home from the hospital. Eric tried to hug me earlier. Jake keeps winking at everyone. Brandon and Tony offered to clean my camera gear. I’m not blind.”

“Damn,” Rylee mutters. “We really thought we were being smooth about this.”

“Not even close,” I say with a true laugh. “It’s okay. I love you for trying.”

“There was an outline! It was so well planned!” Rylee cries, flopping dramatically onto the couch.

Johanna stands and walks over to me, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on my top.

“It’s kind of wild,” she says quietly, a small, rare smile tugging at her mouth. “How far you’ve come. Did you ever think this is where you’d be—loving my annoying brother and living out all those daydreams from when you were a kid?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Little stalker Mia never pictured this.”

Rylee joins us and leans her head against my shoulder, careful not to mess up my hair.

“We’ve got you,” she says, warm and certain. “Stalker tendencies and all. No matter what happens tonight. Proposal or not. Show or not. Band drama or—God help us—another surprise Tony tattoo… we’ve got you.”

“I’m not nervous because I’m unsure,” I say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve waited my whole life for someone to love me the way he does. I was starting to think I’d never find it. Now I have and it’s… kind of overwhelming. You know?”

Johanna squeezes my shoulder. “In the best way, babe. You’re one of us now.”

Before I can say anything back, a soft knock lands at the door and Jake peeks in, clipboard in hand, wink already loaded.

“Mia, they’re ready to mic you up.”

Rylee looks at me knowingly. “Ready?”

I nod once, heart steady for the first time in days. “Let’s go break the internet—again.”

With that, we rise—the unlikely trio we’ve somehow become—and I step into the darkened hallway, ready for my forever.