Page 260 of Second Sets Omnibus

The end is nowhere near.

This is just our beginning.

Becoming crystal clear.

Am I crying? Are those tears pouring down my damn face? No. My damn eyeballs are sweating in front of hundreds of people. Good God. I can’t stop them. Callum reaches down, pulling my face into his neck as I sob my fucking heart out.

I fucking hate tequila.

“Fucking hell, Little Star. My goddamn galaxy,” he whispers, holding me close to his sweaty as-hell body. “I love you,” he murmurs. “To the damn moon and back.”

“I love you, too,” I sob like an idiot. “But I’m never drinking again.” His chuckles vibrate against me as I cling to him.

Kieran stops, breathing heavily into the microphone.

“So?” He eyes the silent crowd as they break out into hysterics, screaming his name. “It’s a work in progress. We’ll keep you posted on how it’s going in the weeks to come when we get back to our roots and start this music thing over.”

When I finally lift my head from Callum’s neck, he stares into my eyes. Gently, his fingers wipe away the makeup, I’m sure I smeared everywhere from my emotional outburst.

Callum’s grin lights up my world. Those gray eyes I could get lost in steal every ounce of oxygen from my lungs.

These boys drown me in the best damn way.

After another round of hot kisses in front of the crowd, I walk off stage, using the back exit to cool down. My thoughts race a million miles a minute as I pace the backstage area, heaving in several breaths.

This is real.

This is fucking happening again. I’m letting them consume every part of me. I’m fucking terrified in the best and worst ways. This could go sour. But as my chest caves in from the chaotic thoughts, I know I’m heading in the right direction with them.More than before. We were right for each other, but the timing was shit. We needed room to grow into the people we are now.

After I gather myself, my feet drag me down the hallway with more tequila on my mind. What? Don’t judge me. I know I swore off alcohol before, but I left my bottle half empty in the arms of a bartender. It’s calling my name. Especially after that song. Those kisses. Those fucking words Kieran belted out. Jesus, I’m a goner.

As I make my way down the darkened hallway, I grunt, running straight into a damn brick wall. “Jesus, sorry,” I grumble, pushing my hair out of my flushed face.

I blink several times. My heart falls into my stomach. And not in the good way.

“Rivey, hey,” he says with that same slimy grin plastered on his face. His eyes take me in from head to toe. Somehow, his hands are on my shoulders, steadying me from falling over. Gently, he squeezes, something brightening in his eyes at my proximity. Fuck. Cold shivers break out through me.

“Van?” I question, wrinkling my nose. “I thought you were in Europe or some shit,” I blurt.

Alarm bells ring in my head for whatever reason when he shifts, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Mom is sick, so I came home for a visit. I saw a post online that Whispered Words was going to be here, so I thought I’d come to see the show. Didn’t expect to see you, Miss California,” he says with a big goofy grin, finally letting go of my shoulders when I bat him away.

An uneasy feeling floats around in my sloshing stomach. It’s either the booze revolting against my stomach, or it’s the creep standing before me.

Not much has changed since I left him all those years ago. Same hair. Same stupid face—as if he could change that. Not to mention that sickening grin I once thought was the best thingon the planet makes my stomach knot. How in the hell did I fall for this jackass when I was a teenager? Was it the thought of dangerous dating?

The last words he ever said to me before he fucked right off have haunted me since the moment he walked out of the record store I used to work at.

“I have every arsenal in my pocket for us to have a better future. You, me, and the baby…”

It’s like I’m back in that record store, listening to him tell me all that bullshit about him going to Europe for an internship. And how delusional he was in thinking that Lyric was his.

“I just wanted to say how sorry I was for all the things I said and did. You know, back then,” he grimaces, obviously still talking as I silently freak out. What else has he said since I’ve drunkenly stared at him with a blank look, lost in my thoughts? “I was a real creep, and I…just never got over you, I guess. I saw everything as an opportunity to get the girl I loved back. But I went about it all wrong. Sorry, I was such a fucking chump.”

Chump doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel for him. “Um… Yeah, sure. Nice to see you, but I’ve got a date with a bottle,” I grumble, shoving past him.

“Nice bumping into you, Rivey,” he says in passing, waving as he walks away from me without fanfare.