The crowd boos.
Aiden, Lincoln, and I trade anxious glances.
“Don’t worry! I have something that’ll make it up to you. I’m always the one doing solos… Why don’t we give someone else a chance?” His eyes slide over to me. His voice booms out over the speakers, totally devoid of feeling. “I think Miss Felicity Wilde might have something up her sleeve for y’all! How would you feel about that?”
The crowd goes absolutely crazy — I never do solos.
“Ryder!” I hiss lowly, taking a few steps toward him, a fake smile affixed to my lips. “What the hell is your problem?”
He ignores me, leaning back into his mic. “You heard them, Felicity! They want to hear you sing!” His smile is arctic cold, his gaze burning into mine. “How ‘bout you do that new one you’ve been working on…Nineteen?”
I don’t hear the crowd chanting my name, voicing their support.
I don’t see the looks being traded between the bassist and the drummer.
I just see him — the lines of grief and pain on his face, the utter desolation in his eyes, the broken twist to his smirking mouth.
Realization crashes through me in a heartbreaking tide.
He knows.
* * *
I’msure he expects me to walk off stage.
To make some excuse, to play one of the other songs in my repertoire.
Because the only thing that overtakes the pain on his face is the look of sheer surprise that twists his features when I adjust my guitar strap and turn to the crowd, a determined set to my shoulders.
“You know… this song I’m about to play for y’all… I’ve never done it before.”
They applaud like their lives depend on it, and I let the sound fill me up, buoy me along this tidal wave of pain.
“Felicity—” Ryder whispers, but I ignore him.
“This song is about the hardest year of my entire life. A year I lost not one love, but two.”
The crowd’s murmurs ripple all around me.
“I wasn’t planning to play it tonight, but I think…” I look over at Ryder, who’s standing there like a ghost — his face bloodless, his eyes hollow. “I think, sometimes, the only way to rid yourself of darkness is to shine a light.”
They scream again, louder than ever.
I glance at Aiden and Linc, reading the worry on their faces as I strum the first notes. They’re frozen, not knowing what to play, not knowing whether or not to improvise an accompaniment.
I shake my head, to let them know I’m okay on my own.
My guitar sounds lonely in the vast arena — my chords frail and fleeting as butterfly wings as they fly out over the hushed crowd. I smile, though my heart is in a thousand kinds of pain, lean into the mic, and let the words fly straight from my soul.
Lying here, this empty bed
Broken crown upon my head
The king, he’s gone
Our realm in ruins
Wish you’d listened when I said…