The pain in my hand is excruciating. I can't believe I socked that bastard in the face. The anger that's welled up inside me catches in my throat as I open my mouth to speak. But nothing comes out.

Standing there, Ellie and I both stare at each other. I can’t read her entirely in the dim light of darkness. But she still looks like she might be shaking. The way her ex went after her puts me at the height of a rage I’ve never felt before. He was like a goddamn wolf going after a bunny. Devoid of comprehension, she looks at me and swipes at her cheek. The terrified look on her face tells me she needs me right now.

Not sure if she wants physical contact yet, I continue fighting my initial instinct to rush her. Instead, I hold my arms out and motion for her. "Come here," I try to say over the music. But my voice is weak and wavers in the night between us. Reading me, she takes two steps in my direction. And this is all it takes for me to reach out and pull her into my chest, enveloping every inch of her. I'm never letting go of this girl.

Heat is radiating off of her body, and I feel her trembling. To ease her agony, I press three kisses into the top of her hair to let her know I'm here and that I won't be going anywhere. "Are you okay, Ellie?"

Under my contact, she tries to nod. But her face is pushed to my heart. I feel the irregular rise and fall of her body under my arms, her breaths chaotic and in pieces. I can't tell if she's crying, but it feels like she is. And her tears break my heart in the worst of ways.

"Ellie," I whisper, lowering my mouth to her small ear.

Clutching onto me tighter, she shakes her head against me, her face still hidden.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry. I had no idea how bad it was." Pushing her hair back, I press my lips to her temple. As I slowly speak, I can feel her strain easing as if she’s hearing the weight of every single word I say. "You were right. I can see why, after someone like that, you're not ready for a relationship. I should have trusted you."

It must be thirty seconds before she moves. Pulling her face up and away from my chest, she takes a step back to look at me. Her eyes are watery with tears brimming her eyelashes as she tries to blink them away. With a small, broken smile, she nods again. Her cheeks are red, blotchy, and stained with black streams of eye makeup. "It's okay." She swipes at her cheek with the back of her hand. "Everything's going to be fine now," she smirks, trying to rid herself of her emotion.

Pulling her back in, I press my lips to hers for the sweetest, most tender kiss I've ever experienced. Her lips crash back into mine like a wave, surging with relief, and I swear I can taste the salt from her tears. Completely losing myself, I put my busted hand on the back of her head. But when I draw her closer, I wince at the pain. She ends our kiss and pulls away from me.

"Let me see it," she says, slowly bringing my arm in front of her. Turning my hand over, she runs a light, shaky finger over my knuckles. They're dried with blood and sore as hell.

"I'll survive," I say, kissing her on the forehead. I can’t get enough of her. "But you know what I won't survive?"

With all the concern in the world, she looks up at me under the lift of her wet lashes, her brow furrowed in worry. "What?"

"Not having you in my life— in whatever way you need me."

Her lips tremble as she tries to smile again. "Why are you so good to me?"

Clenching my jaw to keep it from quivering at her question, I shake my head. How in the world could anyone not love this girl? The thought burns a thick hole in my chest. Through gritted teeth, I tell her the only thing I can put words to right now. “Because you are an amazing human being who is so full of life and light. And because fuck anything that doesn’t get your blood pumping.”

Throwing her arms around my neck, she tugs me down to her height and kisses me hard. I can feel the streaks of her tears on my cheeks now. But the way her soul yanks me into her like the gravitational pull of the moon moving tides. It causes my mind to go completely silent as she works her way deeper into my heart.

Seconds later, we’re interrupted by a high-pitched voice that resonates over the first verse of Isla Verde's final song. "Ellie! What happened? We just saw John being carted out and—" Brooke stops dead in her tracks as she sees Ellie turned away and wiping at her face. But noticing me by her side, Brooke’s face relaxes.

"Hey," I say, nodding toward Ellie. "She's alright. Just a little shaken."

The redhead scrambles for her and surrounds her in a hug.

Dennis follows a second later. Looking over at me, he furrows his brow. There's a sheet of sorrow plastered across his face as if he somehow already knows the details. "Everything alright?"

“She held her own,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.

“And you?” he asks, eyeing me in the dark.

Lifting my puffy, purplish hand in his direction, I shrug. "Little busted up but okay."

"Oh, shit, man."

Brooke hears Dennis' concern and turns back to me. "Oh, God. Mason, your hand."

"It's fine. Seriously. Looks worse than it is." Stepping away, I suddenly feel out of my element surrounded by Ellie’s tribe. I scratch the back of my head with my untouched hand. Feeling an emotion stirring at the back of my throat, I try to hold it in. But it spills out of me in a frustrated groan. "Just a little busted up, but should be fine tomorrow," I say, stepping further toward the crowd.

To my surprise, Ellie follows me. And she's the only person I want near me right now. "Come on, we'll get you some ice," she says, taking my good hand in hers. Her sudden contact alleviates my inability to cope, and I squeeze her fingers to let her know I’m grateful. "We’ll get you all fixed up," she says.

"You got one more set left in you?" I ask Ellie as the four of us walk to a small opening at the back of the crowd.

As Brooke and Dennis are preoccupied by the impending on-stage arrival of Cole and Holland, Ellie pulls me further back into the park where an empty folding table provides us the perfect spot to watch the last of the concert. "Sit with me?" Ellie asks. But it’s not even a question. Of course I’m sitting.

Though the daylight is gone, the moon hangs over the oak trees above us and casts an inky glow onto the swaying leaves, scattering us with moonlight. The stage lights illuminate Cole as he walks out with his acoustic guitar strapped to him. He carries two wooden stools at his side.

As he takes a seat, Holland follows him, flouncing her skirt for show in a real June Carter type of jest. Running a hand through her strawberry hair, she smiles at the crowd causing an uproar of applause. Sitting, she lowers her microphone stand to fit her height.

I watch the acoustic set with Ellie next to me, my arm draped over her. Holding the bag of ice to my busted knuckles, she flips it once every few minutes so it keeps cold. While this is a little reminiscent of our first shared concert, this is something new for us. Something different. But much more significant. A few songs in, she lays her head on my shoulder. I can’t tell if she’s sleepy or if she just wants to feel close to me. Either way, I can feel her mouth move against my shoulder as she whisper-sings the good lines. Just like she always does.

As the last song of the set approaches, Cole takes a swig from his water bottle. And I grow nervous as hell at what's about to come. Cole taps the microphone and clears his throat. "This last song," he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. "This one is dedicated to a very special woman with the most kick-ass name I've probably ever heard. Ellie? Ellie Stone? Is she around here somewhere?" he calls out to a whispering crowd.

Lifting her head, Ellie fidgets under my arm. As Cole speaks her name again, she tilts up from my shoulder. "What did you do?" she asks, her voice full of wonder.

And my heart stops from the sheer joy. Bringing my hand up to my mouth, I shout. "Over here!" When I point down at her, she ducks her head, covering her face with both hands. And I swear this is the very first time I've seen her so shy.

"Ellie Stone, there you are!" Cole takes another sip of his water and looks over at Holland. "Don't you love that name? No relation to The Rolling Stones. I already asked."

With an animated laugh, Holland shrugs.

"Ellie, someone reached out to me before the show. Was a strapping young fellow such as myself,” Cole says, drawing some laughs from the crowd. “Anyway, he happened to see me backstage before the last set earlier and asked if we take requests. Normally, it’s a hard no. We don’t. But this was a good one." He clears his throat. "I don't have my little canary to help me out with this. So this is the first time I'll be singing it without her. But Holland is here to help me turn it into a duet." Locking eyes with Holland, he nods and strums a chord on his guitar, the notes ringing out as he continues his commentary. "But as I've learned in life, the present is a time of newness. A time to revive ourselves and start over. To grow a little. Or a lot." He smiles at Holland as she takes a sip of her own water. "To open our hearts and minds to change and everything else that comes along with livin’ the good life. So I'm not sure this one will go down like it should,” he says, returning his eyes to the crowd. “Here with everyone underneath these stars of Southport. But all we can do is try."

The crowd ascends into a cheer as if they know exactly what's coming.

"Are you kidding me?" I hear Ellie whisper. "Did you do this?"

Shrugging, I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. With my good arm still around her, I can't help but pull her closer to me as the quiet, acoustic opening notes of "Songbird" soar over the audience. Every single person grows quiet.

With my fingers laced through Ellie’s, I bring our collective hand up and kiss her wrist to let her know how much she means to me. Patterns of moonlight dance on our laps from the warm breeze in the treetops above us, and Ellie melts into me as we listen to what is and what will always be our song.