Page 40 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

We play for another hour. A cover of “The Night We Met” that has half the crowd in tears.

An improvised version of a collaborative piece that we make up on the spot, building it verse by verse with input from the audience.

Hendrix does a solo acoustic version of “Reckless” that transforms the rock anthem into something delicate and beautiful.

But it’s when Dana matches with a gritty emotional melody that I can finally see why they were a couple.

When performing, their chemistry is undeniable.

But the most powerful moment comes when Justine suggests we do “Come Undone” as a duet. Without Ajay’s driving drums and Hendrix’s soaring guitar, the song becomes something completely different. More vulnerable, more honest.

“This song is about letting your guard down,” I tell the crowd. “About trusting someone enough to show them who you really are.”

When we sing it together, our voices weaving in and out of harmony, I feel like I’m having a conversation with Justine that everyone else just happens to be overhearing. It’s intimate in a way that feels almost too personal for a public performance, but also exactly right.

The last note fades into the night air, and for a moment, no one moves. Then someone starts clapping, and it spreads through the crowd like a wave. People are standing, cheering, some crying, all of them radiating an energy that I’ve never felt at a regular concert.

When we finally pack up, fans linger, reluctant to leave this magical space we’ve created together. Some ask for autographs by phone light, others just want to thank us. One girl, maybe seventeen with tears streaming down her face, comes up to Justine. Rules be damned, we sign and pose for photos.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, her voice shaking. “I was supposed to be here with my best friend, but she had to work, and I almost didn’t come alone. I was having the worst day, and you guys . . . you made it magic. You made me remember why music matters.”

Justine hugs her, and I see tears in her eyes too. “Thank you for staying,” she whispers. “This was magic for us too.”

After everyone’s gone and the equipment is loaded, our bus is so lively you’d think we won the lottery. Dana’s already on TikTok looking at videos, most of them having gone viral already.

“This was the best thing we could’ve done tonight,” she says as she passes her phone around. “Those fans are never going to forget it.”

“Nor will be able to duplicate it. The raw emotion of playing like that . . .” Keane shakes his head. “I’m so glad I was here for it.”

“You guys,” Chandler says, getting our attention. She holds her phone out for us to see. It’s a local news station that is broadcasting live on their app.

“Everyone quiet down,” Hendrix says.

“Tonight, when power failed, Sinful Distraction and Plum gave their fans something they’ll never forget.” The camera pans to the small audience, who looks mesmerized and happy.

“We did this,” Ajay says as he points to the TV. “We did something amazing.”

“Yeah, we did,” I say as we all high-five each other.

“Thank you,” Dana says to Plum. “Having you ladies there made the night more special, especially for the fans.”

“Believe me, and I think I speak for my sister and Justine, we’re honored you asked us to play with you. Thank you for the opportunity,” Wynonna says. “Tonight, you showed us what it means to be musicians.”

“Well, shit, now I’m going to cry.” Dana gets up from her seat and hugs Wynonna, Priscilla and then Justine. “I’m so happy Elle signed you.”

“So are we,” Priscilla says happily.

The drive to the hotel takes minutes. As soon as we’re checked in, I reach for Justine’s hand and pull her behind me toward the emergency staircase.

“Where are we going?” she asks, as we start climbing.

“To check something,” I tell her. “We’ve stayed here a lot, when my dad was on tour, and they had the most amazing view from the roof.

” We get to the door, where the roof access is.

There isn’t a sign warning of an alarm, so I push it open and hold it until I find something to prop it open with.

Thankfully, there’s rock nearby, which tells me I’m not the only one doing this.

“I need this air,” Justine says as she walks toward the edge of the roof. “Wow.”

The hotel’s roof is flat and surprisingly spacious, with a clear view of the darkened city beyond. The power’s still out across most of downtown, so the usual light pollution is gone. Stars are actually visible, scattered across the sky like scattered diamonds.

“Look at that,” Justine says softly. “When’s the last time you could see stars in a city?”

I move to stand behind her, my arms wrapping around her waist. She leans back against my chest, and we just stand there for a moment, taking in the unusual sight of a city gone quiet.

“Tonight was incredible,” I say into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the cold night air. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“The power going out was the best thing that could have happened,” she agrees, her hands covering mine where they rest on her stomach. “Did you see their faces? That girl who cried?”

“I saw yours,” I tell her. “You were glowing up there. Even more than usual.”

She turns in my arms, and in the starlight, she looks almost otherworldly. Her hair is slightly messed from the wind, and there’s still that post-performance glow in her cheeks.

“It felt different tonight,” she says. “More real, somehow. Like we stripped away everything that doesn’t matter and just . . . connected.”

“Everything feels more real with you,” I say, and I mean it completely. “You make me want to be more honest, more authentic. Tonight, when we were singing together?—”

“I know,” she interrupts softly. “I felt it too.”

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. The city is dark around us, and it’s quiet except for the distant sound of generators humming to life and the occasional car passing on the street below.

“Quinn?” she says, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Her hands come up to rest on my chest, and I can feel my heartbeat under her palms. “Don’t make me a song. Make me a promise.”

The words hit with so much force; they knock the air from my lungs. I understand exactly what she means. She doesn’t want to be another muse, another inspiration for lyrics that’ll fade when the feeling does. She wants to be real, permanent, something that exists beyond the music.

“What kind of promise?” I ask, though I think I already know.

“Promise me this isn’t just tour romance,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “Promise me that when the buses stop rolling and the stages go dark, you’ll still choose me. Promise me that what we have is bigger than the music, even though the music brought us together.”

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. Under the stars, she looks vulnerable and strong at the same time, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her.

“Justine Floyd,” I say, my voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “I promise you that this—us—is the realest thing in my life. I promise you that when this tour ends, I want to start a new adventure with you. I promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath catches, and I can see tears gathering in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and desperate and full of promise. The city is dark around us and quiet except for the distant sound of life slowly returning to normal, but up here, with her in my arms under a sky full of stars, everything feels illuminated.

When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, her breathing slightly unsteady.

“I love you,” she whispers. “Not the rock star, not the songwriter. You. Quinn James, the man who holds babies like they’re made of gold and who just played a parking lot concert because he couldn’t stand to disappoint three hundred people.”

“I love you too,” I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. “Justine, the woman who makes me want to be better than I ever thought I could be.”

We stay on that rooftop until the power comes back on, until the city lights drown out the stars again. But even when the world returns to normal, this moment—this promise—remains.

Some of the best things happen in the dark, when all you have left is what’s real.

And this, with her, is the most real thing I’ve ever known.