Page 38 of Echoes of a Muted Song

But at least it had stopped him from making amilkshake out of my bones and internal organs.

Jagger shot a glare up at Draven, pouted, then flipped him off before turning back to me. This time, instead of shaking me, he gave me those big, puppy dog eyes, complete with his hands folded beneath his chin. I grabbed them, both out of joy and self-preservation, and held on as I gave him the wonderful news.

“They found the guy that caused the accident!” I declared. “The cops have dropped the charges against me. I’m a free man, Jagger, free, free, free!”

“Hell yeah!!!” Jagger howled.

I turned his hands loose, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea, because he hug-tackled me with enough force that we sent Rebel toppling over backward. A dogpile ensued, with me and Johnny crushed beneath a mound of bodies much bigger than we were, but none of it mattered as we held on to one another and listened to Rebel cuss beneath us.

“Hey, watch your hands, fucker.”

“You’ve never minded my hands there before.”

“I don’t mind whoever’s hand that is, but um, I really gotta take a piss.”

Grunts, groans and laughter followed, their bodies muffling their voices enough that it was impossible to make out who was talking.

“We’ve gotta celebrate,” Jagger declared. “And you have to come out there and sing ‘Sunshine and Chains’ with me after we tell the fansand anyone who’s watching the live streams of tonight’s show what we’ve always known. That you weren’t responsible!”

A cheer went up around me, backslaps and hugs followed as Jagger, Rebel and I were helped to our feet.

“Oh man, we’ve gotta celebrate!” Keegan declared.

“Only if that celebration involves going back to the hotel for some Chinese takeout and a Boston Cream pie,” I declared as I brushed my hair back from my eyes.

“Sounds like the best celebration in the world,” Jagger said, hugging me a bit more gently this time. “But you’re still gonna come up on stage with me, right?”

“Hell yeah,” I said, squeezing him. “Third song?”

“Perfect. Robbie will tap you in.”

He let go of me, not that my arms remained empty long as Draven yanked me into a hug, lifted me off the ground, and bounced me so hard my back cracked. It was the best feeling in the world, for three seconds, until he kissed me and that took over the first place slot. I wrapped my legs around his waist and gripped his hair, our kisses frantic and messy.

I wasn’t gonna lose this.

I wasn’t gonna losehim.

Not to prison anyway.

Not to space and distance and a relationshipwe could only conduct through letters.

We had a fighting chance to make this thing between us work and I couldn’t have been happier. I tasted salt as we kissed and realized they were his tears as he crushed me close and stroked my hair.

“Now there’s no reason for there to ever be five hundred miles between us!” he declared.

“Nor do I ever want there to be,” I said as he held me. “Oh man, ohh man, there are like a million and one things I want to do now. The cookbook, the comic strip merchandise. Dash and I have been tossing around ideas for the next album cover and Ozzy’s been working on a killer drum solo that just needs a song to belong to. This means I get to play Denver, and we promised them a new song when we got back. I need to get on that. You said February, right, for when we head back up to the mountains?”

“Yeah, but right now, the only thing you need to do is breathe and get back to kissing me,” Draven growled against my lips. “Then take a shower, you sweaty bastard, so I can make out with you properly.”

“Doesn’t that need to wait until we’re back to the hotel, too?”

“Mouthy fucker.”

“You love my mouth.”

“You’re damn right I do,” he groaned before kissing me again.

All these years, I’d thought freedom wasnot being tied down by entanglements and responsibilities, but tonight, I understood why people sang so passionately about it. A world full of choices and possibilities lay ahead of me that I’d been too afraid to embrace due to the uncertainty of what my future might hold. Now the future was a blank page, and I got to choose what I put there. A song, a doodle, a love letter to the man who slowly lowered me to my feet but kept me pressed tight to the front of his body.

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