A Love Song for Dreamers - Piper Lawson Page 0,48

her cue, and the band keeps playing. Eventually, they stop. Annie and I exchange a look, but we both know.

Shay’s frozen up.

I’m cursing her for it even as I weave through the crowd to the foot of the stage. I shoot security a look as they spring into action, but they stop when they recognize me.

Shay’s eyes widen as she sees me leap onto the stage. “I’m sorry,” she whispers hoarsely when I stop in front of her.

“It’s fine. You got this,” I say.

“I know. I thought I did, but… Just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

I nod to the confused band, and they restart.

I step back into the wings and nod at her.

Her gaze is locked on mine as she sings the first line. It’s tentative.

The guitarist is eyeing us warily, so I grab his unused mic and join in.

Shay’s smile lights up the entire place.

I keep going, and she finds her stride.

By the time we hit the chorus together, the audience is loving it.

It feels good to be up there, better still to help her.

My hand might be fucked but the way Shay’s looking at me from the stage and Annie’s looking at me from the audience, it’s hard to believe anything is missing in this moment.

After, I head back down the stairs, surprised to see Annie and even Rae holler and applaud as I rejoin them.

“Well, that was a disaster.”

“It was averted, and you made something even better together,” Annie corrects.

I search her gaze, my chest expanding. “You’re good for my soul,” I say simply.

She grabs my arms, her hands digging into my biceps. “I know you don’t like thinking of yourself as depending on other people or having them depend on you…” she goes on, “But you matter. To your friends. To me. To Shay. You can make a difference here. With my dad and in people like Shay’s lives.”

My chest tightens. Not her life.

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “When I was on tour, I realized I couldn’t blame what happened to me for how I felt. But I also promised myself I’d do whatever it took to be as good as I was before. And while I was at it,” I go on, my mouth tugging up at the corner, “I’d get a house on the beach. Somewhere warm. Somewhere I’d wake up every day and make music I love and not owe anyone anything.

“It’s the security I’ve always wanted, Annie. The freedom. And you helped me get it.”

She stiffens, love and sadness competing on her face. “I’m glad.”

“Before I left for tour, I told you I wished you’d never made me dream. That’s not true, and I never should have said it.”

“Tyler…it’s okay.”

“It’s not. Because I need you to know that I still dream. And when I dream, I dream of us.

“You telling me about your work on the couch while we watch the sun set after a long day. Me getting you roses because you love them even when you have no earthly reason to. You swimming naked in our pool until I’m so turned on I have to take you right there.”

Her eyes darken, and I wish we weren’t in public so I could show her how fucking good it could be.

“Is that all?” she murmurs at last, looking understandably overwhelmed.

No.

I want kids who glare at us with your eyes and scream at us with my mouth.

I want you and me forever.

I want you to want it as badly as I do.

But I can’t ask because there’s a huge hole in my chest even with her standing right in front of me, one that’ll get bigger the moment she says that’s not what she wants.

“Yeah,” I say instead. “That’s all.”

16

There’s nothing like the morning after a night that doesn’t end.

Last night I rewrote the final song for the musical completely while staring at the studio before falling asleep in my chaise lounge, my notebook on my lap.

The fog I’ve been wrestling with cleared and I accomplished what I’ve been trying to for months.

I was so sure of it, I took a screenshot and sent it off to Miranda last night.

When the sun comes up, a slice of vibrant orange on the horizon, the paper is on the patio next to my chair. My phone buzzes with a message from my writing partner.

It’s short and sweet.

Miranda: That’s it.

Satisfaction and pride settle in me as I shift out of the chair, rubbing a hand through my hair.

The tile cool under my bare feet, I