Page 148 of The Prodigal Son

As I launch myself into his arms, my hat flies off my head and his arms wind tightly around me. The sound of the people in the stadium is deafening. Pure pandemonium.

But here, in his arms, it’s quiet. Every sensation is a revelation. The strong crush of his arms. The familiar scent of his skin. The cadence of his heart pounding against mine.

I don’t know exactly how long we hold each other, but it occurs to me in our embrace that Jensen might not be ready for public affection. A hug might be all right, but anything more could be triggering, so I don’t move for a kiss.

But he does.

Taking my face in his strong hands, he pulls my mouth to his and crushes our lips together. Distantly, I hear the crowd screaming again. Home run, touchdown, big game win type of cheering.

It’s not a hot kiss, at least not as hot as I plan to make it later, but it’s the best kiss of my life. As good as the first one. That night in a hotel, when everything felt so new. When he cornered me in an elevator forjust one more. This one beats every single kiss we’ve shared combined.

As we pull apart, I smile at him, and he tearfully grins back. Even if he did say something, I’m not sure I’d be able to hear it. So we don’t talk with our voices; we talk with our eyes instead.

And they say,I love you.

It occurs to me at this point that I’m in the middle of a concert and tens of thousands of people are staring at us. I’ll probably have a whole fucking meeting tomorrow with my publicist about this, but I don’t care. Nothing could get me down now.

After squeezing his hand, Jensen mouths, “Go,” as he nods toward the stage.

Reluctantly, I pull myself away, but even as I’m running back to the mic, I’m grinning like a fool. I climb back up to where Ibelong and jog over to the stool and the guitar discarded on the floor.

With shaking hands, I put everything back in place, including my earpiece. Then, I sit back down on the stool and grin sheepishly at the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” I mumble into the mic. “My boyfriend is here.”

The crowd cheers again, and I honestly wonder how they have any voice left at all.

Strumming quietly on the guitar, I start his song, and I set out to make it the best version I have ever sung. The last time on this tour.

And just before I start singing, I find his eyes through the bright light. With my lips near the mic, I smile. “This is for you. You know who you are.”

Forty-Four

Jensen

My hands are shaking as I watch him sing my song. I’ve heard it hundreds of times at this point, and it never fails to knock me off my feet.

A hand claps on my shoulder and I look over to find my dad smiling at me. When the song ends, Sadie is wrapping her arms around me lovingly. His entire family pulls me in, smothering me with love and acceptance.

He does the rest of his set with renewed energy. This is the part of the show where he loses the undershirt and dances around with those tight abs and that flirty smile. The fans eat it up.

His family and I dance and sing along, celebrating all of Isaac’s accomplishments together as we should. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

And I couldn’t be more eager to get my hands on him later.

When the concert comes to an end, the cheers for the encore are the loudest I’ve ever heard. My own voice will be hoarse after this. I glance over to see his brothers all cheering and whistlingfor him. Sadie is practically screaming his name. Even my dad is piercing ears with that whistle of his.

For the last two songs, Isaac comes out and puts his all into them. They are the crowd’s favorites. The ones everyone fell in love with years ago when he was just an indie performer, hustling on social media and in small bars and venues. These are the songs that captured hearts. They certainly captured mine.

I can almost remember where I was the first time I heard them. I knew there was something special about him even then. The lyrics captivated my soul and spoke to me in a way no other songs ever had. He speaks about the struggles of living in a way that makes them both relatable and beautiful at the same time. Who knew songs about loneliness and depression could also have a good beat you could dance to.

Isaac is a prodigy. He’s a miracle. Quite simply, he’s the greatest person I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and I’m the lucky bastard who somehow gets to call him mine.

After the show, his entire family and I head toward the backstage area. The security guards wave us all through and we wait in a group for Isaac to run out after his final bow.

His mother is crying as she watches him from the wings. And when he finally runs off after his final bow, I stand back and watch everyone swarm him with love. My heart swells at the sight. He deserves this.

He almost missed this. Who would be standing here for him if he hadn’t gone back home? Who would be here if I hadn’t gone to that show where we met? I’ve never been more grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given than I am right now as I bask in the happiness on his face.

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