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Bellevue wasn’t a small venue for a concert, but it was nowhere near big enough to fit all the people in front of them. Toward the back, he could see people spilling out the doorways as he played the final riff of one of their new songs.

The screams hurt his ears, but he just laughed and looked out over the chanting audience, trying to make out faces in the crowd.

Everything was blurry outside of the ring of light the band stood in, but it reflected enough to make out some of the ones in the front row.

There was a group of girls with shirts that read Seventh Circles First Fans under a hand-drawn version of the band’s logo.

They were the same group who’d first showed up at The Pour House a year and a half ago.

Aside from them, he noticed a few more familiar faces of the people who’d stuck around before their names meant much, mixed in with strangers.

He grabbed the mic and pulled it off its stand, walking around and preparing to introduce the next song on their setlist.

He opened his mouth . . . then froze.

He had to do a double take at the person standing just beyond the edge of the spotlight.

Her hair was cut short, just past her shoulders, and the same blinding blonde that he remembered from high school. Any trace of the faded, muddied black had been chopped off.

What had stopped him was that smile.

He almost thought he’d imagined her, but no, there was his Nell.

The crowd had noticed his sudden pause and started looking around, trying to find what had startled him.

Dennis wandered over to him, confused. “Man, what’s going on—” He followed his eyes to Nell, who covered her mouth and laughed into her fingers, making Barrett’s heart flutter in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Holy shit.”

Barrett scrapped the script entirely, his eyes staying on her. “Anyone here ever been in love?”

The confused audience got back on track and started whooping in agreement.

Nell cupped her mouth and joined in. Barrett grinned.

“What’s going on?” he heard Toni hiss toward Dennis, who went back and began whispering in his ear.

Barrett continued. “I fell in love with this girl once. My god, she was incredible.” People screamed, and he continued. “I never wrote my own music before I met her, but I guess you could say she became my muse. You all should be thanking her for this.”

People cheered, some yelling out “thank you” without knowing said girl stood right next to them.

“There’s this one song, though. Now, I didn’t write this song—not all of it anyways—but it’s one none of you have ever heard. A . . . friend started it, and I finished it for them since they weren’t able to do it themselves. This song is a gift for that girl I loved, and only for her.”

Barrett put the microphone back as the rest of the band sat back and relaxed. This was a song only Barrett knew how to play.

He strummed the first chords of the song and watched Nell closely through the light as her mouth fell open in surprise then transformed into a stunning smile as she nodded.

Somehow, Barrett knew it. He knew, just by looking at this glowing girl standing in the darkness of the crowd, that Nell was finally ready to hear KC’s song.