The roar of the crowd washed over me like an ocean wave. The sound of feet stomping in unison started in one corner of the amphitheater, then rolled across until those of us down on the floor were surrounded by it on all sides. I pressed my fingers to my lips and counted backwards, three, two, one....

The spotlights flared to life and the four members of Wreckage jogged back onto the stage for their encore. The crowd screamed in a single voice, shouting and stomping, and I was right there with them, going crazy for my favorite band in the world.

"Aren't you used to this by now?" Tate shouted in my ear as I yelled out for them to play 'No Promises.'

"No!" I laughed, grabbing him around the shoulders and yanking him down for a hug. "And I'm so glad you came!"

He stumbled a little on his crutches and I stepped back. "Whoops, sorry Tater!" I apologized.

My brother grinned at me. "No problem. Sick of all of you treating me with kid gloves anyway."

"You're down in the pit with me!" I reminded him. "Tell me again how that's treating you with kid gloves?"

It had been his therapist's idea for him to come out tonight. "She says I need to learn what I love to do," Tate had told me, shuffling on his bad leg and looking for all the world like the little boy he no longer was. "And I have no idea what that is. I thought you might be the person to help me figure it out."

Now he opened his mouth, looking like he was about to give me shit - something he'd thankfully been doing more and more over the past few months of his recovery - but was interrupted by the wall of sound from the stage.

I yelled in glee. "They're playing my song!"

"Is this 'No Promises?'" Tate asked. "You've been calling for it all night long."

I shook my head and pressed my fingertips to my mouth and as I did I caught the flash of silver that glinted from my hand.

On my thumb.

When Jules handed me the little box at Christmas, I almost had a heart attack right then and there. "Shit," I'd hissed. "Oh shit, really? Shit!"

"Calm down, love," he said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Don't you think I know you better by now?"

He'd pulled the thin silver band from the box for me and held it up. Hand shaking, I took it from him and slipped it onto my ring finger. "Wrong size," I laughed. It looked like my finger was doing the hula-hoop.

"Love," he explained patiently. "It's for your thumb."

I'd looked at him in utter confusion long enough to make him roll his eyes. He turned my hand over to slide the ring onto my thumb himself. I'd looked down at his hands- long fingers with a light dusting of dark hair at the knuckles, and on his thumb a silver band - "Oh!" I finally realized. "Like yours!"

He grinned. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, I'm...oh..." I'd trailed off, spinning it around and around so it caught the light.

"And I figured if you wanted me to wear one you picked out yourself, that's fine." His eyes glinted. "Hell, I'd wear a twist tie around my finger if you asked me to, love. So you know I'm yours."

I held up my thumb. "Is that what this is? So I know I'm yours?"

He grinned wider. "Felt like the best way forward was letting you wear something to get used to the idea privately before we made any public announcements."

I went up on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lips. "But I already know I'm yours," I'd told him, catching him around the waist.

"Can't hurt to remind you every so often," he'd laughed as I tackled him to the ground.

Now in the mosh pit, watching him do the thing he was very best at in the world, I smiled again to see that glinting silver band. "No, this isn't 'No Promises," I told Tate. "This is one he wrote for the new album. It's called "Best Mistake."

"It's a good song!" Tate yelled back, and sort of hopped in place in time with the rest of the pogoing crowd. My brother sang along, completely and blissfully unaware of the meaning of what he was singing. A tingle shot down my spine as I listened to Hudson singing live - for the first time - the words Jules' had written just for me: