I kissed the exposed skin above his tank top. He smelled lovely. I could almost taste the sunshine he had absorbed since the beginning of the summer. It was like a sweet sort of caramel.

Kissing the top of my head, Phil took my hand and led me onto the bus. I spotted Connor sitting at the dining table, looking mildly ill.

“Connor?”

His green eyes shifted toward me, and he tried to smile. Phil stopped dragging me behind him.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He looked really pale, and that was saying something, considering he was normally a healthy shade of milk.

“A little nervous I guess,” he replied.

“You’ll do just fine, man,” Phil told him. “It’s always a bit nerve-rackin’ during the first couple of shows.”

Connor nodded.

“If you can do it in front of hundreds, you can do it in front of thousands. Just ask X. He used to hurl before every show for a long time,” Phil informed him.

Again, Connor nodded. “It’s all good, man.”

Phil and I headed up to The Attic.

“I’m kind of worried about him,” I told Phil as we settled in our bed.

The trap door had been retracted, but he made no move to start stripping me of my clothes, which was a relief since I was sweaty and not so fresh in various areas.

Curving his body around mine, he slipped an arm around my waist. “He’ll be fine. Trust me. We all used to piss ourselves when we first started. Once the music starts flowin’, he’ll forget about the crowd.”

I didn’t see how that was possible, but I trusted my man. Behind me, he relaxed. Sighing with happiness, he gave me a slight squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, brushing his mouth in my hair.

“For what?”

“Comin’ back, so I could fall asleep at home.”

NOLA’s Junk was scheduled to take the stage at nine fifteen.

At eight forty-five, Cornered Cannibal was finishing their set.

Backstage, we waited in the dressing room until Tiny informed us that the Cannibals had cleared the stage, minimizing our contact with them as much as possible. So far, it seemed as though I was the only one who had had any sort of run-in.

As the equipment was switched out, our roadies got busy with getting everything set up in what could only be described as organized chaos, and we made our way to the dimly lit side of the stage.

X and Alys were cracking on each other. Flipper was stretching and windmilling his arms around. He was missing Viv, who wouldn’t be joining us for another week and a half. Jason was enjoying a preshow whiskey while Phil was jumping in place, getting the blood flowing.

Connor was lurking behind everyone, pale face showing his terror.

“Hey,” I said softly, taking both his shaking hands in mine. “You going to be okay?”

“I’m fucking scared shitless, Kenna,” he whispered. “Fifteen thousand people are out there. What if I fuck up?”

“So what if you do?”

He blinked at me in surprise.

“We’ve got a little time. Do you want to meditate with me?” I asked.

He nodded, and we found a quiet corner to settle down in, both of us taking lotus pose. I sat before him, still holding his hands, wanting to transfer my calm energy into him.

“Will you talk me into it?” he begged. “I might not have it in me.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Close your eyes.”

We both did so, shutting out vision.

“Take a deep breath. Imagine that breath is cleansing out your fear. Another. Each one is releasing more of it, replacing it with a sense of calm and peace…”

I felt the subtle shift within him. He stopped trembling, and his body relaxed.

“You’re sinking inside yourself, slipping easily into a state of suspension. It’s warm and safe, filled with love…”

Connor sighed, the last of his fear dissipating. I was there with him in the warm, safe dark place. I could see him as a sweet silvery glow, pulsating with energy and love. He was so ready for this, excited to be a part of his favorite band, headlining the festival that he’d once watched from the other side with his sisters.

He didn’t want to let Our Boys down. They had put so much faith in him, and he loved each of them as though they truly were his brothers. They had handed him his lifelong dream. He didn’t want to screw it up.

“You won’t. You were made for this.”

In my head, I smiled at him, and his silver glow brightened.

“You’ve done this before. Phil’s right. If you can do it in front of hundreds, what’s a few more? Don’t let yourself be intimidated. You are one of the strongest souls I’ve ever known. This is what you’ve worked so hard for. Don’t let fear take it away from you.”

He was reliving all of the fantasies he had had over the years of performing on stage, rocking out with what had once been nameless, faceless band members. Now, he belonged to a tight brotherhood, their faces very real, and they were there for him, holding him up, proud to call him one of their own.

Phil’s blazing hot energy gently touched on my shoulder, prompting my ascension. As I opened my eyes, my vision dazzled as I beheld the aura of my other half in red and gold and every radiant hue in between. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.

Glancing at Connor, I could see his aura, too. With blues, greens, and silver, he was calm and collected, ready to face the multitudes.

“Connor?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. When he turned his sight up toward Phil, his eyes widened. Connor saw Phil’s true self, too, and like me, he was drawn to it. Phil’s aura sank back into himself, and his dimpled smile made my heart race.

“Five minutes, little brother.” Phil’s voice caressed over us.

Connor smiled broadly. “Fuck yeah.”

Meditating for more than twenty minutes, we had worked through Connor’s fear in that timeless dwelling. The veil of the real world descended, and time caught up with us. Bounding to his feet, Connor allowed his excitement to carry him, rush through him, and he filled himself up with courage to face his first huge concert.

Grabbing me into a bear hug, my brother whispered, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Then, he passed me to my fiancé and bounced over to his other brothers while Phil pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

“You’re just so wonderful, you know that?” he said softly, his deep voice sinking below my skin, into my organs, before absorbing into my soul.

“Go give me my show.” I laughed. “And take care of Connor.”

“Anything for my Baby Girl.”

Just like that, he was gone. He was Phil fucking Deveraux, heavy metal front man, legend among the gods. I was just his other half, watching from the side stage as he entertained the masses, in complete awe of what I was now truly a part of.

“New York!” Phil roared after their first three songs. “Are you having a good fuckin’ time?”

The cacophony of cheers that washed over the stage was staggering. Fifteen thousand voices united in a sustained single wave, crashing and pooling around Our Boys. I could see Connor was in a blissful state of mind.

“What do you think of our new album?” Phil asked the multitudes. “Does it reach your esteemed standards?”

The replying cheer confirmed that they certainly enjoyed it.

“That’s fuckin’ fantastic. You all should thank our newest brother for the way that turned out because, without him, we couldn’t have made such a musical fuckin’ masterpiece. To be honest and in no way fuckin’ modest, that’s what it is. We even surprised ourselves with this one. Everyone, greet our little brother.” He turned and pointed to Connor, who waved. “And fuckin’ tell him thank you!”

“Thank you!” echoed and bounced as fifteen thousand voices acknowledged Connor.

“We got a bit of an epic one for you. If you’ve got Homecoming, you know this one because it’s too fuckin’ long to put on the radio waves. Have you guys heard our little ditty, ‘The Fortunate Fallen’?”