We all clamored down the dank hall of the music theater to the welcome of claps on the back, voices lifted and filled with the type of thrill that was impossible to escape in a place like this.
Something both dark and alive.
The Hollywood venue was one I’d frequented many times. A place that had been happy to play host to Sunder before the guys had made it big, me little more than a kid tagging along, hanging out in the back rooms that acted like a bedfellow to sin.
A partner to all the crimes and transgressions.
A bedlam of immorality.
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
Within these walls, that old cliché had earned its keep.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t bigger than that.
That this place didn’t hum with possibility.
It’d housed the dreams of those who meant the most to me—Baz and the rest of the boys who’d worked their asses off to get a break. Opening for whoever would have them. Playing places just like this across the country as they begged and scraped by, until someone had noticed their talent and took a chance on them.
Now, they were passing it on to me.
No dues paid.
And I didn’t know if it made me feel cheap or proud.
Like a beggar who’d somehow stumbled upon the greatest windfall.
For years, I’d been playing my music in the quiet of small clubs.
A prisoner to that unending loss. Chained to the sea and the songs. All the while knowing I couldn’t ask for anything more than the opportunity to honor Julian in rhythm and words.
Now…now I’d step out in front of Sunder’s oldest fans. Those who’d been there from the beginning. I’d stand in my brother’s shoes and pray I could do him an ounce of justice.
All the while feeling like a bastard because I knew after I faced Paul tonight, I’d have to turn around and walk.
We emerged at the end of the hall and stepped out into the darkened backstage space. Heavy maroon curtains did nothing to conceal the chant of the crowd demanding their beloved band.
Sunder. Sunder. Sunder.
It pulsed through the dense air as if it breathed. A living force that compelled and stirred and sent this compulsive feeling jetting through my veins.
The itch.
The urge to step out onstage.
How many times had I felt it before? Just a kid on the outskirts, not brave enough to even wish I belonged in my brother’s world?
My fists clenched, and a big hand clapped me on the back.
I turned.
Anthony Di Pietro. Sunder’s manager. A guy who’d been there through thick and thin. Through arrests and overdoses and deaths. His presence was fused to the struggles and the victories of this band. Never once had he wavered in his support.
He watched me with keen eyes, deep with encouragement. “You’ve got this, Austin. Seen it in you all along. Now I want you to get out there and own this stage.”
Anxiety fired through my nerves. My guts were tied up in devotion, all the old insecurities and fear I felt at an all-out war against the soul-crushing need to honor my brother, that call vibrating within the cavernous space hollowed out inside of me.
To honor both my brothers, really.
It damned near made my head explode to realize they’d become one and the same.
Scariest part? It was the bone-deep urge to do this for myself.
But it was the all-consuming need to do this for her that had me giving Anthony a tight nod.
I looked to the side when I heard Ash call my name. He lifted his chin, gesturing to where the rest of the guys stood up close to the side entrance of the stage. “Hey, man, it’s almost go time. You know the drill. Let’s go.”
Over my shoulder, I cast a fleeting glance at Anthony who made himself comfortable by leaning a shoulder against a big speaker.
My footsteps became restless as I made my way to the huddle.
Fuck.
What was I doing?
But there was no stopping it now. Every inciting factor propelled me forward.
Seemed crazy that now my brother was the one on the outskirts, lingering off to the side. He gripped me by both sides of the neck, pressed his forehead to mine. His words were raw when he whispered, “You were made for this. Don’t ever question that.”
Throat heavy, I nodded, not having the strength to speak, and I turned into the huddle made up of Sunder.
Lyrik. Ash. Zee.
And me.
Lyrik and Ash slung their arms around my shoulders, Zee in between the two of them. All of us came together like we were some kind of sports team, which was just about laughable considering none of us had ever hit a field.
But here we were, hitting the stage, and Ash was feeding us all the cocky shit he loved to spew. Amping us up. Feeding the frenzy that sizzled beneath our skin and flamed in our stomachs.
Sunder. Sunder. Sunder.
They chanted it louder.
Demanding.
A rush of energy bristled across my flesh, and I gulped down the air that was alive with the frenzy.
My lungs were so damned heavy. My heart a manic pound, pound, pound.
“Tonight belongs to us.” Ash shouted it, pushed off to break the circle, bouncing on his toes.
Zee went striding out onto the stage. He shoved two drum sticks above his head.
A tribute to his fallen brother.
My chest tightened at the sight, and for the first time I wondered how much Zee and I might be alike.
I paced.
Back and forth.
Three steps one direction, three steps the other.
What was I doing? What was I doing? I didn’t belong.
Sunder.
The crowd screamed it, and I was hit by another rush of energy.
Ash sauntered out.
Cheers and screams.
Something close to hysteria blistered through the space.
Growing stronger.
More complex.
As if it understood the intricacies of this night.
Lyrik rode out on his intimidating way. Slow, sure, and confident.
From where I stood, I could feel the way the crowd surged. Standing-room only. A crush of bodies vied to get closer to the stage.
I stood there at the side.
Fisting my hands. Wanting to fist my hair. For the first time in months wishing for the security of that damned hoodie.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Wasn’t worthy to stand in my brother’s shoes.
In his light.
In his legacy.
His hand was on my arm, his eyes telling me he’d heard every single fear playing out in my head.
He didn’t need to say a word.
Everything in his expression promised me I was wrong.
That he believed in me.
That after all this time, what he saw? He saw something good.
I sucked in a breath. Steeling myself.
The frantic air drawn into my too-tight lungs only amplified the thunder of my heart.
I stepped out onto the stage to shouts and screams.
The swelling mass undulated with the confusion of my presence and not my brother’s. All of it was messed up with the profuse excitement. A living, breathing ring of intensity.
Lights flashed.
Strobed across the toil of bodies and indistinct faces.
With my heart in my throat, I slung my brother’s electric guitar over my shoulder and got up close to the mic.
There was no missing the weight of the eyes brimming with questions. Like everyone present was trapped in the bated, bottled anticipation.
An expectancy waiting to snap.
Energy stretched taut and tight.
No chance it wouldn’t break.
“Evening,” I called out. I dug deep for the confidence my brother had done his best to instill in me. Even after everything I’d done, he’d believed, and I wasn’t about to let him down.
I strummed an echoing chord.
Cheers went up, the shriek call of whistles.
“Things look a bit different up here to y’all?”
Shouts, mostly of approval, but a few boos made their way to my ears.
And somehow…somehow that was okay.
A grin pulled at my mouth. “Look a little bit like my brother, yeah?”
Screams. Mostly of the female kind.
And that buzz lifted, a constant throb, throb, throb.
Propelling me forward.
“Let’s see if I can play and sing like him, too.”
That was all it took for the thrill to go lurching out of control.
For the energy to snap.
I jumped into the hard, hard chords of the song. A riot of chaos slammed at the bottom of the stage. And the rest of the boys…they were right there. Playing strong and sharp.
The music.
I’d always known it was there. Seated deep in my soul.
Tonight it flowed free and fast.
Fierce.
And I sang…sang the song my brother had written years ago.
Back before he found a way to be free.
Before he found love.
I tapped into the lyrics. Into the feel. And I thought maybe for the first time I really got their meaning.
I can’t touch time
There’s no remedy for this space
How long will you hold me under?
Just end it now
End me now
And I knew.
I knew with the crowd a tumble of energy.
With the song weaving its way into my spirit.
With this overwhelming feeling of being one with the guys.
With the way it crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave.
All-consuming.
Overpowering.
Uncontrollable.
Wanting to be up here wasn’t some distorted sense of loyalty.
It wasn’t obligation or duty.
It was just like Baz said.
Right here was where I belonged.
But I was willing to give it up.
To forever let this feeling go.
Because nothing was worth it if Edie wasn’t by my side.