going nuts when I take that stage. They care. They don’t need space.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
Dillon dances a little jig, and Mary claps her hands then throws her arms around my neck for a hug.
The band wraps up their break and takes the stage. I follow them.
22
“Your not-ex is on stage.”
I start at his statement, having been deep in thought, and turn to watch as Blaze walks across the wooden floor then hangs a little ways back from the lead singer. Cheers and applause go up, and several people call out his name from the football table near the front.
One of the guys from the band grabs the mic. “All right, guys, we’ve got a special treat for you tonight. He needs no introduction, but please welcome Blaze Townsend, one of the football players who just brought us home a national championship!”
More whoops and applause.
“Sing it, Blaze,” comes from the girl he’s with.
I swallow down another sip of wine. I’m not sure I can sit through this. I’ve heard him sing; it made me cry.
He stalks up to the mic, raises his hand, and waves Miss America style. The crowd goes nuts.
“Ah, thanks y’all. That was a fine welcome. You’re a good group.”
“We love you!” shouts a girl at a table up front.
Mike arches a brow at me. “Last chance to get out of here.”
But I don’t respond, my body linked to the man on stage. I study his face, taking in how easy he is on stage. Somewhere, he’s going to be big, and I wish he could see what I see when I look at him: beautiful man, talented in so many ways…and a coward when it comes to us.
Blaze looks out over the crowd. “This song’s a classic, and I hope I do it justice. I’d like to dedicate this song to…” He clears his throat, then continues. “Doesn’t matter. If I suck, just focus on the guys in the back, especially bass and drums, because they’re great.”
“You won’t suck!” declares his date.
He tosses a look back at the guys and the one on bass guitar kicks in, the sound and tune immediately recognizable. The drummer keeps the intense beat.
I shiver when Blaze sings the first line to “With or Without You”. His gruff voice fits and grabs me, not letting go. It’s low and yearning, giving me goose bumps. He closes his eyes and cups the mic when the guitar sneaks in a quick solo. His head beats with the tune and then he comes back, his voice tearing up my heart, ripping it apart.
That song is mine, and he’s taking it.
Does he feel that way about me? Like the lyrics? Does he feel as if he’s waiting on me? Does he think he can’t live with or without me? Maybe. I’m too exhausted from us to dwell on it, and I suck in a deep cleansing breath, trying to separate myself from the words of the chorus, but my eyes are damp.
He ends the song and looks back at the crowd. He sweeps his gaze across the space and his eyes land on me, linger for a long moment, then move on. “Now don’t ask me to sing another one, because I don’t want to steal the band’s thunder tonight. Thanks, guys.”
The applause is deafening.
He walks off stage, and Dillon gives him a chest bump.
His date throws her arms around him and kisses him on the cheek.
I want to rip her hair out.
“Man knows how to make an exit—and sing, and play football. Color me impressed. Is there anything he can’t do?”
“No,” I mumble.
Mike gives me a long glance and frowns. “We can go, Charisma.” He pauses. “Or, if you want to talk to him, I can go and you can stay? I’m cool.”
“Mike…you’re the nicest guy I’ve met in a long time, but I’m fine.” I push out a smile.
I watch Blaze grab another beer from a passing waitress and chug it down. He doesn’t even look in my direction.
“I just need to go to the restroom. Give me a few,” I tell him then grab my purse and get up.
There’s a long line for the ladies’, but I wait, keeping my face averted every time a tall man walks past to get to the men’s. Finally, it’s my turn, and I walk in and shut the door. You’d think they’d have more restrooms, and clearly they need to modernize.
I stand at the sink and stare at my face. I look blindsided. I’ve