This was madness. I stared up at the sign above the door and felt like throwing up.

Darkness wrapped around me and my breath vaporised in the air, the nighttime hum of the city dulled by the descending frost.

The euphoria I’d felt back in Point Mambie had worn off and now I was standing outside the stage door at Festival Hall, hundreds of kilometres away from everything I knew in the Point. I was a quivering mess. Sebastian’s letter was heavy in my pocket and his words were lodged in my heart. I could’ve gone anywhere, but I was here. Ready to leap.

I knocked on the stage door and a moment later, it was wrenched open. A big, bald bouncer in a black polo shirt stared at me, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he barked, making me jump.

Courage, Juniper.

“I’m here to see Sebastian Hale,” I replied, my hands shaking. “He’s expecting me.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else with a pussy.” The door slammed in my face.

I blinked in surprise, my heart beat speeding up. Raising my hand, I knocked again. The door opened, and the bouncer glared at me, his annoyance palpable.

“You again?” He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off before I call the cops.”

“You don’t understand,” I argued, “he asked me to come.”

“In your dreams, baby.” He slammed the door again, this time the gust of wind drove me back a step.

What was I supposed to do now?

Turning, I glanced up and down the street and fought back tears. He’d asked me to come, but I couldn’t get past the fucking door. This entire thing was stupid. The concert was sold out and I didn’t have a ticket. I had no idea where he was staying or where the band was going next. Beneath’s new tour hadn’t been announced yet, so I couldn’t find him at some other show. I could leave a message on his social media accounts, but I figured those were run by the band’s management and my attempts would never pass whatever random assistant was monitoring the comments.

I was stuck. What If I’d missed my chance? What if I’d fucked up my one chance at finding real love?

I took a deep breath to slow my rising panic attack and buried into my leather jacket to stave off the nighttime chill.

“Hey.”

A guy with a man bun and a studded leather jacket was walking down the footpath with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His gaze was fixed on me and I glanced around nervously, looking for an out, but I was trapped in the little cul-de-sac. The North Melbourne train station was just behind the venue, and since the whole place was a construction zone with track works, the street was blocked off at the end. The only way out was past the angry hipster and I so wasn’t in the mood.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he said looking me over. “You’re that ginger broad from the pap photos.”

“Excuse me?”

His gaze raked over my body before returning to my face. “I don’t see it, but whatever.”

“Who are you?”

“Josh Carroway. Lead fucking guitarist of Beneath.”

“Oh.” My gut did another flip and it was all I could do to hold onto its contents.

Smirking at me, he smashed his fist against the stage door. When it opened, the bouncer ushered Josh forward, then glared at me. “You’re still here? Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

“She’s with me,” Josh said not even glancing at the hulking mass of body fat beside him. “Tell her to fuck off again and you’ll be fucking off right into unemployment benefits.”

“Sorry, Mr. Carroway.” The bouncer’s eyes widened and he gestured for us to go past.

Josh led me down the hall and laughed. “Fuck, I love it when they piss their pants and call me Mr. Carroway. Funniest shit ever.”

He stopped and turned to face me, raising his eyebrows. Now we were in the light, I could see he had a black eye. With his attitude, it was a wonder the other didn’t match.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice wavering.

“Don’t thank me yet, babe,” he said, picking up a strand of my hair. “All this almost made Seb quit the band. He’s been a miserable bastard since he got back, and you being here might be the one thing that gets his arse on stage tonight. Me helping you get past the moron on the door isn’t a sign of approval.” He nodded his head to the right. “Down the hall to the right. Don’t make me regret overriding Major Fuckface.”

I glanced down the hall and swallowed hard. Josh moved off in the other direction, calling out to some people at the end of the opposite corridor.

“Hey, Nate!” he shouted. “You owe me five hundred bucks and a bottle of gin, motherfucker!”

My boots didn’t make a sound on the concrete floor as I passed a dressing room door. A piece of laminated paper was stuck on it with the name Damon Whittaker. He was the drummer of Beneath. The next one was Josh’s, then just like that, I was standing outside an open door, staring at Sebastian Hale.

I took a tentative step into the room, but he hadn’t noticed me yet.

He was pacing back and forth, his hair in disarray. I noticed an unopened bottle of alcohol on the table—some kind of brown spirits—and a beat-up acoustic guitar on the couch. A leather jacket was slung over the back of a chair and a metal rack was against the side wall packed with black and grey clothing. He’d chosen a worn Led Zeppelin tee that had the sleeves ripped off. It showed off his muscled arms and gaped just enough to give me a flash of his ribs. Black jeans and sloppy leather boots finished off his ensemble.

On the surface, he looked every part the brooding rocker from those YouTube videos I’d drooled over, but something else was going on underneath the bad boy exterior.

He looked like I felt—lost, completely lost. When he turned, his gaze collided with mine and he stumbled. “Juniper.” My name was ecstasy on his lips and it slammed into my heart, reigniting the fire within me.

“I was a fucking idiot,” I blurted. “I was scared.”

“I know,” he murmured.

The sounds of the venue setting up for the imminent concert echoed in the hall behind us. Somewhere far away, the dull boom of a drum kit sounded as the support band took the stage.

“I have no clue what I’m doing,” I said, my hands shaking. “I’ve sold the shop.”

“I know.”

“You do?” I blinked, then scoffed, “The tabloids still care, huh?”

“They’re going to care a whole lot more once they find out how I feel about you.”

Time seemed to slow down and my breath caught.

“I don’t know who I am,” I whispered. “I want you, Sebastian, but...”

“I know,” he said again. “It’s my turn now.”

“For what?”

“To help you find your missing link.”

“You found yours?” I asked, my body quivering. I was in complete overdrive. Nothing was working as it should.

“Yeah,” he declared, “it’s you.”

Sebastian strode towards me, his hand slamming the door closed as he gathered me into his arms. When his lips met mine, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Rock ‘n’ roll had saved my life...for now.