Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“I gotta go back to work,” I tell them. “Be good to your mama and daddy. I’ll see you three in a couple of weeks.” I slip my hand inside and give them tiny fist bumps and then step aside so my family can do the same thing. I’d give anything for this tour to be over, so I can veg out on the couch with these three. Until that can happen, I’ll pester my sister for photos, every day if I have too.
While I wait around for Elle to do some personal work for Noah and Peyton, I contemplate texting Nola but then decide she left this life. She can read about it on social media because as far as I’m concerned, my family is none of her business.
NINETEEN
Ican still feel Juniper’s heartbeat echoing against my chest. Four pounds of pure perfection that redefined my entire existence in a single moment. When they placed my newborn niece against my bare skin, something cracked open inside me—a chamber of my heart I didn’t know existed. Her impossibly small fist gripping my finger with surprising strength, tiny razor-sharp nails digging into my skin. The wisp of dark hair peeking from beneath her pink cap, looking so much like Peyton and Elle in their baby photos. And my sister—exhausted, triumphant, transformed.
Now, as the plane touches down and the tour looms, I’m crossing worlds—from the sacred quiet of the NICU to the roar of thousands waiting for tonight’s show. Life before and after, with no transition but a flight and the memory of three heartbeats I’d die to protect.
My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing with photos from my family. Peyton in her hospital bed, holding Juniper. My dad with both grandsons nestled against his chest. My mom finally getting her bonding moments with her grandbabies.
I’m surprised when I get off the plane to find Canson sitting outside a black town car. I roll my eyes at the ostentatiousness but am also grateful for Elle thinking of sending him to pick me up.
“Mr. James,” he says as I approach.
“Canson, you know you can call me Quinn. Actually,” I say as I pause with my hand on the top of the door, “call me Uncle Quinn.”
Canson’s smile beams. “Congratulations.”
I slide into the backseat, the fine Italian leather encasing my body. I sigh and sink into the cushion.
“Boy? Girl?” He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Two boys, one girl,” I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “They’re tiny but perfect.” I show him a few pictures before he starts driving.
“Those are some lucky kids to have such a devoted uncle.”
I settle back in my seat, letting his words wash over me. For the better part of a year, I’ve defined myself by what I’ve lost—Nola, the future I thought we’d have. But now, I’m starting to see what I have—two sisters I adore, my parents, and a little brother, and what I’ve gained—two nephews and a niece, with Elle’s baby on the way.
My family has grown, and with it, my world has expanded.
By the time I reach the venue, soundcheck is long over. I text Dana to let her know I’ve arrived, and she responds with a thumbs-up emoji and a reminder that stage time is in ninety minutes.
Backstage is organized chaos—roadies rushing past with equipment, lighting techs adjusting last-minute cues, caterers setting up the post-show spread. I weave through it all, nodding at familiar faces, my guitar case bumping against my leg.
The door to our makeshift dressing room swings open, and four heads turn in unison.
“The prodigal rockstar returns!” Ajay announces, drumsticks spinning between his fingers.
“Just in time,” Keane adds, glancing at his watch.
Dana crosses the room and pulls me into a tight hug. “How are the babies?”
“Perfect,” I say, setting my guitar down. “They’re tiny.” I hold out my arm as a makeshift ruler for their length.
“And Peyton?” Hendrix asks, surprising me with his concern.
“Exhausted but so damn happy.”
“Names?” Dana demands.
“Maverick, Jace, and Juniper.”
“Solid rock star names,” Hendrix approves.
“How’s Elle?” Keane asks, looking past me.
“She’s good,” I say. “Although I think she’s restless and missing this side of her job.” I scan the room, not wanting to be obvious. “Everyone else good?”
“If by ‘everyone else’ you mean a certain lavender-haired vocalist,” Dana says with a smirk, “she’s warming up with her band. They’re on in twenty.”
I pretend to ignore her implication and unzip my guitar case. “I should probably get ready myself.”
“Uh-huh,” Dana says, clearly unconvinced. “Well, when you’re done pretending you weren’t asking about Justine, maybe you could look over the setlist. We made a few tweaks.”
She hands me a sheet of paper with notes scribbled in the margins. “I texted Elle about them, and she was fine with it.”
“Yeah, she said you’ve been sending her clips of the shows?”
Dana nods. “Chandler’s been videoing and editing. She sends everything to Paige for social media and I think Elle plans to use the footage for a video or two.”