"Did you want to go over the set list again, Hudson?" Niall asked. We were assembled in the green room, waiting for the go-ahead to head upstairs. Our pre-show warm-up and mic check had gone eerily perfectly and that made us all nervous.

Hudson looked a little green around the gills. "Nah man," he said. "We've got the list taped down right by my feet, you know? And we've been rehearsing eight hours a day for the past four days."

"If we don't know it by now," Jules agreed.

"We're fucked?" I supplied.

Hudson roared with laughter and then took another sip of his tea-with-honey. He lifted it in salute. "To being fucked."

"Cheers, mate!" Jules lifted his pre-show pint. "To the Wreckage. May we rise like phoenixes from the ashes of..."

"Our bullshit past?" Niall finished.

"Exactly that," Jules replied. He clinked his glass with Hudson and Niall and then glared at me. "Oi!" he called. "Where the fuck is your beer, mate? You're gonna jinx the toast!"

I was saved from a beat down by a soft knock on the door. "That's our cue," I called, sliding from my brooding perch on the arm of the couch.

But instead of a stage manager letting us know we could go up, a straight-laced looking guy in a polo shirt and khakis peeked in.

"Can I fucking help you?" growled Jules.

The guy had eyes just like a shark. He scanned the green room like he was looking for something, or someone, and was disappointed when he didn't see it. "Hey guys," he said. "I'm from the label, I just wanted to wish you luck tonight."

My heart quickened at the mention of the label. "Yeah?" I asked, perking up. "You know CeCe?"

Something distasteful flickered across his face. "Celia? Yeah, I know her."

"Who the fuck did you say you were, mate?" Jules rumbled, suspicion tightening his jaw.

"I'm Matt," the dorky guy replied, reaching out to shake Jules' hand. "From the label."

"Yeah mate, you mentioned that," Jules said, slowly shaking his hand.

I narrowed my eyes. Something about this shit wasn't sitting right. "Right, Matt from the label," I said, sliding back onto my perch on the couch. "Well, we have some shit to hash out still, so if you wouldn't mind..."

"Oh sure, sure," Matt said, backing up. "Good luck out there." He turned and shut the door behind him.

"The fuck was that?" Hudson asked, looking at each of us like we had some explanation.

But there was none. I shrugged. "Some try-hard wanting to ingratiate himself, maybe?" I wondered.

"Maybe trying to poach us from C," Jules said, nodding sagely, then turned to look at me. "Oi mate, she coming tonight?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "No idea."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Huh," was all he said.

I swallowed. The way CeCe and I had left it left too many things wide open. I'd wanted to give her space to figure things out, but now I was wondering if I'd left it too long.

"Gentlemen?" There was a knock at the door and a petite, harried looking stage manager shoved her head inside. "Fifteen minute warning. We're ready for you to take your places."

I nodded once and then looked back at the band. Everyone was silent, focused. We followed the stage manager up the concrete stairs and the noise of the crowd was like a sonic wave over our heads. This was the moment, where everything was poised at the edge, like a giant inhalation of a great beast ready to roar itself awake. I knew this feeling. This feeling hadn't changed even though so much else had.

What also hadn't changed were the little pre-show rituals we fell into, almost immediately. Jules headed right over to the corner, out of the way of the technicians and started doing that same shadowboxing routine as he always did. After all these years of watching it, I could predict his movements. Down, duck, jab, hook, it was the same as always, and he bounced with light precision on his toes, completely engrossed in his imaginary opponent. That hadn't changed.

But Niall's little ritual had changed completely. Back in the Killian days, he used to spend his time pre-show just drinking as much as he possibly could. It was gratifying to see him now, just sitting on the floor cross-legged with his earbuds in, probably listening to the classical music that his mother had raised him hearing. She thought he was going to play cello in an orchestra. How wrong she turned out to be.

The biggest change though, that had to be Hudson over there. He was down on the ground, doing a series of ten push-ups, then jumping to his feet to sip from his tea with honey, then dropping back down again. It looked exhausting, and I turned away.

Five minutes to show time.

My pre-show routine used to involve just standing in the corner, fretting, watching Killian for any signs of breakdown, going through the set list in my head and double checking all of my instruments one last time.

But now, well now it just felt right to lie in flat on my back staring into the rafters and watching the lights flick on and off as the technicians did their checks. I felt like I was floating, in a daze. It was strange how peaceful the chaos around me could be. How routine it felt. How right it felt. Things that I hadn't even realized that I needed, until I was experiencing them again. Everything felt like it should be except for one missing piece.

CeCe.

Four days of radio silence was killing me slowly. Since the morning she'd walked out of my apartment, I'd been holed up in rehearsals, working out the set list for this two-night stint of shows, but the whole time my mind had been wandering. Waiting.

I didn't dare hope she'd show up tonight. August had made no mention of it, but that hope was still there. And if she did come, I had a surprise for her.

"Go time!" the stage manager hissed. I stood up. The roar of the crowd was like static on my skin. "Holy shit, man!" Hudson cried, leaping up and grabbing me in a quick bear hug.

I slapped him hard on the back. "Ready?"

"Fucking born ready, dude," he crowed. "Let's do this shit!"

I looked behind me to Jules and Niall. "You heard our frontman. Let's do this shit!"

Jules roared with laughter and we ran out, following Hudson, who was already whipping the crowd into a frenzy. I nodded to Jules, who nodded back and then I turned to catch Niall's eye to give him the go-ahead. With a quick four count, we slammed into the opening licks of Jagged. It was polished to a high sheen, the final version we'd worked out the past four days of endless rehearsal, and I knew it was crazy but still I hoped like hell that somehow I could make CeCe hear it.