“How could you do that!” She pokes me in the chest. “How could you make her sing that song?!”
“I didn’t think she actually would, Carly. I was trying to send a message, and—” I blow out a breath. “Look, I know I fucked up.”
“And that makes it okay?”
“Of course it’s not okay!” I snap. “But, frankly, you are not the person I need to be apologizing to right now.”
“You’re damn right about that.” Her eyes are suddenly full of tears. “After everything she’s already been though, today…”
My gaze narrows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Carly’s chin jerks up. “That’s for Felicity to tell you. Or not. Frankly, if I were her, I’d never speak to you again.”
“Just tell me where she went, Carly.”
“She’s gone.”
Pain lances through my heart.
No.
Not again.
Please, not again.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
“She left.” Carly shrugs. “Went back to the hotel. I think York drove her.”
Relief courses through me, but I barely have time to feel it. I’m already running for the side door.
“She said she didn’t want company!” Carly calls after me.
I don’t even pause.
This isn’t about what she wants, or even what I want.
It’s about something both of us need.
Chapter Thirty
felicity
I’m sitting in the empty soaking tub, still wearing my sparkly dress, my knees curled tight to my chest, when I hear him walk into the penthouse. He doesn’t flip on the lights as he moves room to room, searching for me, nor does he announce himself when he reaches the bathroom. I don’t turn my head to look as he lingers on the threshold; I simply know he’s there, as though my body sings out to his through the darkness.
The bathroom lights are faint — the wall sconces dimmed to their lowest setting, the ambient glow from the urban jungle out our window casting faux moonlight everywhere. His footsteps echo softly on the tile as he crosses to the tub. Without saying a word, he climbs into the empty basin and settles back, directly across from me. It’s so large, we don’t even touch.
Our eyes meet. The pain in his mirrors my own.
“Felicity…” he whispers.
“Don’t.”
His brows lift.
“Whatever you’re going to say…” I suck in a breath. “Just don’t. Not right now. I’m still…” I swallow hard. “I’m still trying to process what I’m feeling, right now.”
“Just tell me one thing.”
I nod, waiting.
He expels a sharp breath. “Do you hate me?”
“No, Ryder.” My stoic mask crumbles as pain shoots through me. My voice cracks on the next words. “I could never hate you.”
He nods, jaw clenched painfully tight.
We’re silent for a long time.
Two fools in an empty bathtub.
We’ve come so far from the kids we used to be, back in Nashville, it’s hard to remember them at all. How young we were. How supremely naive. Facing down our future armed with nothing but love and lyrics.
I look out over the city around us. The rest of the population feels so distant, looking down from these heights. Untouchable. As if the two of us are the only people left on the planet.
Somehow, though, it’s always been that way between us. Like we’re the only ones in the entire world who matter at all. He looks at me, and the rest fades out of focus.
Him and me.
Me and him.
Together in the darkness. Singing in the shadows. Shining brightest in the darkest night. Two constellations bound by something so strong, the only word I can use to describe it is fate.
I glance over and find him already studying me. Every plane of my face, every tiny asymmetrical imperfection. I gaze back, taking in all his infinitesimal details. I know his features so well, after all this time. Almost better than my own. I’ve seen them twisted into every emotion imaginable, from hate to love to fear to self-loathing. I’ve seen his highest highs, born witness to his lowest lows.
I’ve wanted him and needed him. I’ve scorned him and starved for him. I’ve loved him and hated him. And here, in this moment, at the top of the world, in the depths of despair…
He is still the only person I would wish to have by my side.
Love. Hate. Want. Need.
I look at you, and I feel everything.
Seconds or minutes or hours pass as we sit there, not speaking. Just…
Feeling.
Seeing.
Being.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between us.
“I wanted to, Ryder. So many times.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“At first, because I didn’t think it would matter. We were fighting. I was leaving. Why would I share that with you? Why would I dredge up something so painful, force that weight onto your shoulders, when it was long-buried?”
“And after we got together?”
“I…” My voice is a hollow shell. “I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“No!” A tear slips from beneath my lashes. “Of losing you. It took us so long to get together, so long to finally take the risk, let go of the past, and start again… Can’t you understand how scared I was to drag us back there? To relive all that pain?”
His jaw ticks rhythmically as he fights to control his temper. “I still had a right to know. I had a right to know about—” His voice breaks, and it breaks me in turn. “About our son.”
My tears flow faster. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Did you know?”
My brows lift. “Wh-what?”
“Did you know, when you left me…” His knuckles are white as the porcelain tub. “Did you know you were pregnant?”
“No,” I whisper softly. “I didn’t know until about a month after. And, by that point, you…”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I was a fucking mess.”
I give a tiny nod of affirmation.
His eyes find mine again. “Just so we’re clear — nothing you say could make me walk away from you. You won’t lose me, Felicity. Never.”
I barely trust myself to speak. My composure is rapidly fraying as the tears pour out, faster and faster. I want to hurl myself across the distance, into his arms. I want to close this space separating us, until there’s nothing left but his skin on mine, his heart beating in time with my own.
“Ryder…”
“I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs. “For confronting you about it on stage. There’s no excuse, but you have to know, if I ever thought you’d actually sing it—”
“I know,” I assure him. “I sang it because… it was time. Time to let go of the past. Time to illuminate things long-hidden. Time to honor our son.”
His eyes are red. “Was he— How did—”
“About six months in.” My head shakes. “The doctors said it was nothing I did, nothing that could’ve been prevented. I just…” My throat clogs. “I lost him, Ryder. I lost him.”
I don’t see him move, but suddenly he’s there — his arms closing around me, pulling my face into the hollow of his neck. His mouth comes down to rest against my hair, breathing me in with ragged gulps. The dampness against my temple tells me I am not the only one in tears. And, two years late, we hold each other close, finally mourning together for the small life we created.
Eventually, when the grief has receded from a tidal flood to a manageable undercurrent, I turn my head up to meet his eyes. His forehead comes down to rest against mine. We’re both breathing hard. I feel his every pant against my lips.
“When Carly said you were gone…” His throat bobs. “I thought she meant you’d left me again. That you’d run. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”
I lift my hands to his face, cradling it ge
ntly. “You’ll never lose me, Ryder. I told you… No more running. No more hiding. I’m yours. Come what may. Even when we fight. Even when you hurt me. Even when I hurt you.” I lean a few inches closer, until our lips brush in the faintest ghost of a kiss. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”
“Fuck the rest,” he mutters as he claims my mouth.
It’s meant to be chaste. A light, comforting kiss to soothe each other, after the emotional storm we’ve just weathered. But as soon as his lips hit mine, there’s no turning back. We kiss greedily, desperately. Our hands grasp blindly for zippers and buttons in the dark, stripping each other bare until all that remains is flushed skin against the cool porcelain.
My fingers trace my name over his heart as I stare up at him, marveling at the look of pure devotion in his eyes as they move across my naked skin. I breathe his name like a prayer as he slides inside me, slow enough to drive me wild, hard enough that I feel every unremitting inch of him. My legs slide around his waist, meeting his thrusts as he makes love to me like we’re the only two people in the world.
The star charts are wrong, I think, as my limbs begin to shimmer into moonbeams. We’re not constellations stuck in separate skies.
We’re the whole damn galaxy.
Chapter Thirty-One
ryder
“Boston! You’ve been absolutely great tonight.” I grin out at the crowd and they beam back at me. “I’m sad to say, this is our final show. But I think I speak for everyone in Wildwood when I tell you we couldn’t have picked a better group of fans to spend it with.”
It’s not a lie — I’m not sure what they’re putting in the water here in Boston, but the energy level has been off the charts since the second we stepped on stage. Unless… maybe it’s not the crowd at all. Maybe it’s knowing this is the last time we’re ever going to do this that’s making it all the more special.
My gaze sweeps from Aiden to Lincoln to Felicity, and I see they’re feeling it, too. It’s written on their faces — the bittersweet ache in their eyes, the half-smiles on their lips. There’s a tangible goodbye in the air all around us. An ending none of us are fully prepared to face.
“We’ve got one more song for you tonight,” I say, reaching out for Felicity’s hand and pulling her close. “I’m sure, by now, y’all know the words by heart… So feel free to sing ‘em loud along with us.”
As we walk to the end of the catwalk, Felicity keeps her eyes on mine. They shine like solid gold under the stage lights, and when we reach the platform, I can’t help myself. I lean in and lay one on her — a lingering, passionate kiss that makes the whole crowd go crazy all around us.
The notes start to play, the platform starts to spin, and we stare at each other as we start to sing…
Saw you in the crowd the other day
You were ten years older, ten years colder
When your gaze wandered my way…
The crowd is in the palm of our hands, fervently lapping up every word we sing as though they, too, know this is the last time they’ll ever see Wildwood together onstage.
Sure it’s sad but it isn’t complicated…
You’re my only memory that never faded…
You never faded… Oh…
The lights go dark, the crowd cheers… but the platform never descends down into the arena below.
“Ryder? Where’d you go?” Felicity’s voice trembles as she searches for me in the dark. “Is the platform broken? Are we stuck? What do we do?”
“Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be fixed in a minute.”
A smile twists my lips as I drop to my knees and reach into my back pocket.
“But—”
Felicity’s question turns into a gasp of surprise as the stage lights suddenly come back up. She blinks, dazed, before her gaze drops and she spots me, down on one knee before her. Her eyes fill slowly with tears as they lock on the small blue velvet box in my hands.
The audience’s cheers amplify by about a million percent as what they thought was an encore song turns out to be something very different.
“Felicity Wilde,” I say, staring up at her. “You have changed my life in every way possible. From the first moment I met you, I knew we were meant to cross paths. But I had no idea that, from that point on… my path would lead me straight back to you.”
Her eyes begin to leak.
“No matter where we go, no matter what we face… I know, with you by my side, we’ll make it through. You are my light in the darkness. You are the song of my soul. And, if you’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life making you as happy, as complete, as you’ve made me.” I crack open the box, revealing a dazzling diamond ring. The same ring I was meant to give her, all those years ago. The one I’ve kept close, never giving up hope that one day I’d finally get a chance to ask her this question…
“Felicity Wilde, will you marry me?”
The entire arena seems to hold their breath.
Myself included.
I watch a radiant smile break across her face and know the answer before it makes it past her lips.
“Yes, Ryder. Yes.”
I slide the ring onto her finger, its many facets glittering beneath the spotlight. She barely has time to admire it, because I find my feet and scoop her into my arms with a triumphant yell to the crowd around us.
“SHE SAID YES!”
They roar their approval as I spin her around in circles. Onstage, Linc and Aiden start playing a celebratory riff, completing our perfect fairytale moment with a soaring score.
Our lips crash together as I hold her in the air.
This may be the end of the tour…
But it’s the start of something infinitely better.
Chapter Thirty-Two
felicity
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks for the fifth time since I bustled him into the rental car outside our Boston hotel bright and early this morning. We’ve ditched both the guys and our security guards.
Off the grid.
I shoot a glance at him. “Where’s your sense of spontaneity, Woods?”
He smirks and stares out his window at the passing scenery.
December in Massachusetts is brutally cold, but still beautiful. Today seems especially pretty as we wind our way south along Route 3, then across the Sagamore Bridge, marking our official entrance onto Cape Cod. My hands curl around the steering wheel, and I can’t help admiring the way my engagement ring flashes in the early morning light. I’ve barely been able to take my eyes off it since he slid it onto my finger two nights ago.
“Staring again?” His voice is wry.
A dreamy sigh slips out. “It’s just so sparkly.”
Ryder chuckles. “You did say yes because you want to be my wife, right? Not just for the accessories that come with the gig?”
I glance over at him, swallowing hard. “I cannot wait to be your wife.”
His eyes simmer with heat.
It takes quite a bit of effort to refocus on the road in front of me. This time of year, the streets are deserted. The road drops from two lanes down to one as we snake lazily through a series of increasingly sleepy towns: Barnstable, Yarmouth, Eastham, Wellfleet. Come tourist season, they’ll be bustling, but now there’s hardly even another car on the road or soul to be seen.
After almost two hours, we come to a rotary. I turn off, following signs for Truro. A few side streets later, we pull onto an unpaved dirt road. Leafless tree branches claw at our windows, overgrown from months without proper trimming.
“Are you planning to murder me in the wilderness to get out of this marriage? Because, honestly, a simple no would’ve sufficed…”
“Shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes at him as the lot comes into view. “And stop complaining. We’re here.”
His gaze turns toward the cottage, narrowing as he tries to figure out where the hell I’ve taken him. Admittedly, it doesn’t look like much from here — just a ramshackle little house with we
atherbeaten shingles, sitting on a sand dune.
“Come on,” I whisper, climbing out of the car.
The wind whips at us as we walk up the stone path to the house. It’s tinged with a crispness that hints at coming snow. At the top of the lawn, the Atlantic peeks into view. I hear a low gasp from Ryder as he takes in the sight. The crashing waves are wild and white-capped, almost violent as they pummel the beach.
“Where are we, Felicity?”
I walk to the porch, bend to the small ceramic elephant sitting on the windowsill, and pull out the spare house key. It sticks in the warped lock for a moment, but the door eventually gives way with a shower of dust. We step inside the small space. Just one bedroom, with lofty beamed ceilings and stunning views. Most of the furniture is concealed by white sheets. It’s simple… but it’s peaceful, it’s pleasantly decorated, and… it’s mine.
I look at Ryder and find him watching me carefully.
“This is where you lived,” he murmurs. “Where you were, all that time.”
I nod. “This was my home for the two years we were apart. I know it’s not in the best shape… that it doesn’t look like much of anything… but in the summer, with the beach rolling right up to the house…” I shrug. “It’s really not a bad place to be.”
His jaw is tight as he wanders through the house, staring at the leftover pieces of my life like artifacts in a museum you study intently, in hopes of learning more about a lost culture you’ll never witness for yourself. His fingers skim along the surface of my wood dining table, trace the rim of my favorite coffee cup collecting dust on the kitchen counter. He stares at my easel, still set up with a half-finished canvas, my novice attempt at an ocean watercolor painting.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” he says, gravely. “For… filling in the gaps.”
My heart clenches. “There’s one more thing.”
I extend my hand out, and he twines his fingers with mine. Together, we walk out the back door and up an overgrown, grassy path, ducking our heads against the wind. It takes a few moments to climb to the top of the bluffs — the highest point of my property, a windswept cliff overlooking the ocean with a thin cluster of trees and bushes. There, embedded in the hard-packed earth, lies a marble tombstone.
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