Page 110 of The Only Thing That's Real

Letting the wail of the guitar fade, I sing the first line of the song on my own, my voice the only thing audible above the screams of the audience. My chest heaves from the emotions swelling inside me. As we all wait in the dark, I let the excitement, love, and mutual respect wash over me. I stand before the band and our fans with gratitude.

As the water in my eyes threatens to escape, Sean saves me from certain embarrassment by counting us off. His drumbeat sets the pace for my exhilarated heart, and Jay’s bass hits me square in the chest. When Matt’s gnarly riff smacks all of us upside the head, the lights go up and the arena goes wild.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Knox

The last three hours were three of the best hours of my life. I felt unburdened.

Proud.

Confident.

It was beautiful.

After an extended encore, we unexpectedly became a jam band who didn’t know when to stop playing. We didn’t want the night to end. Eventually, we took our final bows and walked off the stage and into the arms of the people we loved. They left the suite during the encore so they’d be there waiting for us when the time came. We hung out at MSG, where all the friends we’d made over the years celebrated with us for a good hour after the show.

After, we moved the party back to the hotel where Sean and Marie are hosting a party in their penthouse while thekids have a sleepover in Matt and Kristen’s room under grandparent supervision.

Ryan and I are staying in my smaller room, opting to give Ryan’s larger penthouse to Angus, Mia, Sawyer, and my mom. Mom is on Sawyer-duty while we all go to the after-party. Daisy and Owen each have their own rooms on another floor. The only thing missing is Cal and Charlie, but with the baby due in the next three weeks, it isn’t safe for her to fly, and there’s no way my brother would leave her side. I wouldn’t want him to.

Ryan and I gently knock on Angus’s door on our way to the Messing’s penthouse. Mom opens the door with her finger held up to her lips and points over her shoulder toward the living room where Sawyer is dead to the world on the oversized couch.

“He was wide awake one second and out cold the next. It was a long day, but he did great,” Mom says, following us into the room.

“Thanks for watching him,” I whisper, pulling her into a side hug. “I appreciate it.”

Releasing her, I sneak to the couch and watch my little boy sleep.

One arm is behind his head, and his mouth is hanging open. His cheeks are flushed pink and one pudgy little fist clutches onto his neon green headphones. Several times during the first few songs, my eyes drifted to the suite where he was bouncing in the arms of whosever turn it was to hold him. There was one moment I could have sworn he knew I was looking at him. He held his hand out, reaching for me.

Like he knew me.

Liked me.

Wanted me to be his.

As I kneel next to him, Mia and Angus enter the room. Suddenly, I’m aware everyone is watching me watch Sawyer, and a cloud of awkwardness hangs over us. Guilt washes over Mia’s face. Angus looks concerned and there’s no hiding the pity in Mom’s eyes.

But Ryan’s ray of light breaks through that cloud. Her gaze meets mine with a smile and a wink that says, he’s pretty cool, and holy shit, he’s yours.

Giving him one last look, I tear myself away, kiss Mom goodbye and the four of us leave.

The party is in full effect when we arrive. Jay and Trevor are standing on the dining room table pouring tequila into each other’s mouths and multiple phones are recording the moment. More of our long-time industry friends are here, as well as quite a few Hollywood darlings who we don’t really know, but who seem to be at every party worth being at, invited or not.

We weave our way through the crowded kitchen where the drinks are being poured, and naturally Daisy and Owen are hanging out.

Daisy’s face lights up when she spots me. “Hey, big brother! I thought it might be past your bedtime, and you weren’t coming.”

Wrapping my arm around her neck, I rub my knuckles across the top of her head. “Hilarious.”

“Hey, I’m thirty-three years old!” She swats me away. “How about for my birthday you let this childish behavior fade into the distance? Noogies are forever banned.”

“You’re not thirty-three yet.”

She taps her non-existent watch. “It’ after midnight.”

And the worst brother of the year award goes to...

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