Page 31 of Electric Wounds
He looks at me, his expression raw and conflicted. "It’s not that simple, Lily."
I touch his arm gently. "I know.” I pause, thinking about the labels threat. Heck, my presence is because the label doesn’t trust Jax. I move closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest in a gentle hug. Jax is tense at first, but slowly relaxes and loosely wraps his arms around me.
We stand that way for a few long moments until we hear the audience cheering, signaling the interview has ended. I pull away, not wanting any of the crew from the show to catch us and make any type of assumption, but I stay close, waiting for the rest of the band.
They are quick to join us backstage, immediately joining Jax and I. They are silent, scanning his face, then we gather our gear that we arrived with and head back to the sleek black van.
When the door shuts, Enzo bursts out, “That was fucked.” I’m worried he’s going to yell at Jax and that I might have to step in, but he continues. “I can’t believe they would ask that. I thought the label was supposed to approve our interview questions in advance.”
“I thought so too,” I interject. “That’s what I was told when I started, but I will call Harris when we get back to the bus andcheck. It’s going to be okay,” I say, scanning the faces of each of the band members.
Jax exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. "Thanks, Lily."
“No problem,” I murmur, hoping we don’t have to do another interview any time soon.
NINETEEN
THE SHOW
Dylan
The van takes us straight to the venue for tonight’s show. I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline thrumming in my veins. Stepping out of the van, we’re greeted by stagehands rushing around, security keeping the eager fans at bay, and that electric buzz in the air that always signals a big night. This life—loud, fast, and unpredictable—it’s home.
Backstage, the energy is infectious. Techs make last-minute adjustments, barking out instructions to each other. The air smells like sweat, cologne, and pure anticipation. I grin as I stand there, breathing it all in. Amidst all the chaos, I watch Lily dart between crew members, abandoning us to make sure the set lists are in place and check on our instruments that arrived ahead of us, just handling things like a pro. She’s quickly blending into our life on the road and it’s becoming more difficult to remember what life was like without her.
The guys walk past me, heading to the dressing room. I trail behind them slowly, watching Lily until the last possible second before joining the rest of the band. The dressing room is the same as almost every other dressing room at every other venue.Slightly cramped and dim, with a smell of smoke and sweat seeping out of the pores of the walls.
I sigh and pull out my drumsticks and tap out the intro to our first song, imagining the small coffee table centered in the room is my drum set. Enzo and Marcus do their own thing, getting into the head space we need to be on stage. Jax is the only one that isn’t sitting down. He paces the room, seeming extra broody and angsty after the interview. Part of me wonders if I should talk to him, but honestly, he’s such a downer sometimes. I’ll leave it to Marcus. He’s better at that shit than I am.
Jax finally pulls it together, gathering us in the center with for our ritual. He seems more distracted than usual, and it doesn’t pack its normal punch when we scream outElectric Wounds.Once we finish, we head to the stage as a unit. The oppressive silence lifts as we near the stage, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step, and the moment we step into the lights, it hits us like a wave. A tangible energy feeds into us as we launch into our first song, and I grin. This is fucking it. The stage lights burst to life, and suddenly, we’re unstoppable.
The set is pure emotion. Every chord, every beat pushing us higher, like all the tension, anger, and angst we’ve felt recently, is pouring into the music. The crowd’s screams fuel the music even higher, adding to the raw, unfettered feeling that comes from being on stage.
I hammer my drumsticks across my set, stealing glances at Lily, standing just off to the side. She watches us with wide eyes, flitting between each of us and filled with awe. Our eyes connect and she smiles at me, a soft expression that causes an unfamiliar flutter in my chest. I wink at her, then turn my attention back to my drum set. I don’t want to fuck up the beat because I’m too busy staring at Lily.
Midway through the set, Jax looks around at all of us, offering a brief shake of his head, letting us know he wants apause in the set. I take advantage of the break to tug my shirt over my head, mopping up the sweat against the back of my neck. Jax steps closer to the crowd. “Pittsburgh,” Jax begins, his voice sounds thick. He pauses to let the crowd cheer, but I see his shoulders move with a deep inhale, like he is bracing himself. “Earlier today, I walked off during an interview. I couldn’t talk about my recovery, and for some of us, that’s how it is. My addiction—it’s something I’m still fighting. But being here, playing for you, that’s part of what’s helping me heal. So, thank you for being here. For supporting us. And if you have ever been through something similar, this song is for you.”
A roar of support explodes from the crowd, and I lean into it, banging out a hard beat to launch us into our next song. The lyrics to the song are about Jax’s addiction and the pain that he holds inside. Playing it always makes my skin crawl, as I think about what must go on in his head to write something like this. Maybe he deserves to be a broody fuck.
His voice cracks on the last note, lending a rawness to the song that isn’t normally there. I decide to smash out a longer drumbeat, dragging the song out further as an excuse to buy Jax another minute before we launch into our next song. He drops the mic to his side, grabbing a sip of water.
Together, we launch into the next song and then the next and the next. The rest of the set flies by in a blur of high-energy anthems, and before I know it, we’re playing our final song. The crowd’s cheers are deafening when Jax calls out, “Thank you, Pittsburgh.”
I walk off to the wings to find Lily waiting for us, her smile bright enough to light up the room. I lift her up, and twirl her around and she giggles, swatting at my arm. “Dylan,” she groans in fake exasperation. I smirk, stealing a peck before placing her back on her feet.
“That was amazing,” she exclaims.
“Thanks, Lily,” Marcus says, wiping sweat from his brow. “It felt incredible.”
Enzo grins, still buzzing with energy. “How about we keep this going? I heard there’s a chill after-party nearby.”
I glance at Jax. “You up for it?”
He hesitates, but then nods, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Lily steps towards him, pausing for a second, then wrapping her arms around Jax’s waist. He appears stunned but reciprocates by gently gripping his arms around her shoulders. I think Lily is trying to comfort Jax after his on-stage confession. The hug looks awkward as hell, but I can tell that they are both trying to move past the weirdness between them.
“Alright, lovebirds!” Enzo’s voice breaks through, teasing. “We’ve got a party to get to.”
