Page 93 of Knot My Band: Part Two
“Can you swallow for me?” the doc asks, her attention focused on Oli’s throat as she does as told. I can almost see the vibrations, the promise of that voice that’s gonna rock the world. It’s been too long since we’ve heard her sing, too damn long.
“Look at her, handling it like a champ,” Chase whispers from the couch, his tone tinged with admiration. Dax nods, his usual stoic expression softening slightly as Oli follows the doctor’s instructions.
I can only nod, my heart playing a bass line against my ribs.
“Almost done here,” the doc reassures, stepping back and giving Oli a small smile.
“See? Knew you had it in you,” I say, the tension finally starting to seep from my shoulders. Not completely gone, though. Not until we’re all back on stage, with Oli’s voice leading us into the fray again.
“Alright, Oli, everything looks great. Your throat has healed nicely. You are cleared to sing,” the doctor announces with a clinical kind of cheer that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. But it’s all I need to hear.
I exhale, and a grin splits my face. My eyes dart to Aiden, Chase, and Dax, who mirror my relief with their versions of smirks and smiles.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, my voice a little rough around the edges from the tension that’s been dogging me all day.
The doctor nods, packs up her bag with efficient clicks, snaps, and makes her way out. The door closes with a soft click, and silence floods the room for a heartbeat or two.
“Okay, little rose, last step. Let us hear that beautiful voice,” Chase prompts.
Anxiety is pouring off my omega, and I know we need to deal with this now to stop it from getting worse.
She rises from the couch, her movements tentative—like she’s unsure if her legs will support her. Her rose gold waves catch the light as she moves into the center of the room, and I swear it’s like watching the sun break through the clouds after a storm.
“I’m scared,” she confesses.
“Oli,” I start, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between us with a few steps. “You’ve got this.”
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. She worries her lower lip between her teeth, and I fight the urge to lean in and do the job for her.
“Remember our first show together?” I ask her with a tease in my voice, hoping to coax a smile onto those kissable lips. “You had the crowd eating out of your hand before you even hit the chorus.”
Her smile is shy but genuine, and it lights up the whole damn room in a way that no stage lighting ever could. “Yeah, but I wasn’t recovering from an injury then.”
“It’s you, your presence and magnetism,” I say, my tone dipping into something softer, something meant for just her ears. “You’re stronger than you realize, Oli Hart. And we’re right here with you.”
With a deep breath that lifts her chest, she nods. Her fingers brush against mine—a spark, a bolt of lightning—and then she’s stepping back, readying herself. The room holds its breath, waiting as Oli prepares to conquer her fears.
“Sing for us, Oli,” I murmur, my heart hammering away, eager for the symphony of her voice.
The first note trembles into existence, a quivering thread of sound that quickly swells into a bold melody. Oli’s voice fills the room, clear as a crystal stream, washing over us with its raw power and beauty. I stand there, rooted to the spot, my blue eyes locked on her.
She’s in her element, her soul laid bare with every rise and fall of her pitch-perfect voice. The long, rose gold waves of her hair catch the light as she sways to the rhythm, her green eyes closed, lost to the world we’re in. The song is an outpouring of everything she is, everything she’s fought to reclaim, and it’s mesmerizing.
I can’t help but feel this swell of pride surging through me, mixed with a potent joy I could get drunk on.
Her final note hangs in the air, a sweet sound that slowly fades, leaving a silence that’s heavy with awe. Then, like a dam breaking, applause erupts from Chase, Dax, Aiden, and me. The cheers are thunderous in the pack house, and our excitement is a palpable force that could shake the walls.
“Oli, you were amazing!” I shout over the noise, my heart racing.
I stride over to her, my movements eager but controlled, and pull her into a gentle hug that I hope conveys everything I’m feeling. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I whisper, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
Her body relaxes against mine, the tension of anticipation melting away in the warmth of our embrace. At this moment, surrounded by the brothers of my pack and the woman whose spirit outshines the brightest star, I know we’ve not just witnessed a comeback. We’ve seen a rebirth—the rise of Oli Hart, rockstar extraordinaire with a voice that could command the heavens.
“Jack…” Her voice is soft, humbled, and filled with relief.
“Shh, let them cheer, Oli. They’re all for you,” I murmur back, my hands resting on her back, feeling the echo of her heartbeat against my fingertips. “Every damn clap and whistle.”
And as I pull back to look at her, her bangs falling playfully across her forehead, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of happiness, I know we’re ready for whatever comes next. We’ll face it together, as a pack and as a band.
