Page 18 of The Prodigal Son

As it comes to an end, my band and I play the strongest and loudest, laying hard on the guitars and drums. The crowd cheers for a while before I take to the microphone and address them.

“Hey there, Phoenix. How y’all doin’ tonight?”

They scream in response. As the lights overhead scan out to the crowd and off me, I gaze out into the throng of people, finding eyes in the masses to connect with.

Tonight, my gaze connects with a tall, handsome man near the front. He’s standing in the pit with a short blonde woman at his side.

I smile at him a moment before tearing my eyes away. “What a beautiful night to be together,” I say. “Y’all have no idea how grateful I am to be on this tour and get to spend my nights with lovely people like you and this amazing band of mine.”

The crowd cheers, and I find the man in the front of the crowd again.

Damn, he sure is cute. Tall and handsome and rich-looking.

Jesus, Isaac. Focus.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” I say, pulling my guitar to the front slowly. “I’d like to slow things down for a moment and play you a song that is very near to my heart. It’s something I wrote a long time ago when I was feeling down…”

I strum a few chords on the guitar, and some of the audience picks up on it immediately, clapping with excitement.

“This song is about being really fucking lonely. You know that feeling when you just get in your car and you just start driving, not knowing where you’re going?”

“I love you!” someone shouts from deep within the amphitheater.

“I love you too,” I mumble into the mic, making people laugh.

Then, for some fucking reason, I find that man again.

“This song is called ‘Lonely Pilgrimage.’”

Mr. Tall and Handsome cheers and claps, and we actually stare at each other as he mouths my song back to me.He knows my songs. He’s not just here because of his girlfriend, like I assume a lot of guys are. My demographic is about sixty-forty, women to men.

But this guy…he’s smiling and cheering and seemingly a real fan. Well, fuck if that doesn’t go straight to my dick.

As I play the song, it starts out acoustic. For a while, there’s nowhere for my voice to hide as I sing, closing my eyes and hearing only the metronome and guitar track in my ear. This is one of my least favorite songs to play live because, for one, it’s incredibly personal.

I wasn’t lying to the crowd. I did write it when I was feeling lonely, missing my family. I was in Nashville alone when I got in my car one night and just started driving. I went southwest, not planning to stop until I hit Austin.

About halfway home, it hit me. I was alone. And they weren’t.

Obviously, I had Luke if I needed him, but Luke’s devotion to me was not the same. He stepped up because I needed him. He stepped up because no one else would.

I missed myfamily. I missed the promise Adam made when I was a kid that they would always have my back.

That night wasn’t the first time I felt resentment for my family. It wasn’t the first time I wanted to curse at them.

But I was the one who left. I disappeared and I left them no choice. And yet, there I was, mad to be alone.

Digging my own grave is a running theme with me, it seems.

So yeah, the lyrics—running from you was like running from myself. Running out of breath and running out of steam but not quite where I want to be—were real.

When I gaze out at the crowd, hearing them sing backup for me, I see the faces of the people who share that pain. I don’t know what they went through, but whatever it was, it leaves similar scars, that’s for sure.

As the song comes to an end, they lose their minds again. Screaming and cheering on their feet.

I smile out into the lights and the dark sky, and I feel fucking grateful.

After the show, the band and I hang out backstage for a while. The record label has some people we need to meet, so after going to the greenroom for a minute to get cleaned up, we’re led to one of the suites that overlooks the stage and the mountains in the distance.

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