“Ay!” Camden sucked his teeth. It was the first time I’d really seen the remnants of a New Yorker in him. Cute.

I had to broach the next topic—my heart demanded it—but I decided straightaway to stay out of the trash talk that was bound to follow. So I mentioned to my brother that Camden was a Mets fan, and I told Gideon, who rooted for the Yankees, that he had a friend in August. Of course, it got Chris and Luiz going too.

I grabbed my beer, took a swig, and sat back again, pleased as punch.

When everyone was loud, you knew you were among family.

Saturday was meant to be the highlight of my whole stay in Nashville.

Instead, it felt like I was just going through the motions. A part of me had shut down, and I didn’t get it. I knew why; it was because I was leaving soon. But feeling nothing sucked hard.

It showed, too. Before we were off to Murfreesboro, August asked me twice if everything was okay. Nicky kept giving me looks too, and I blew it at the rehearsal. My singing was off, I missed cues, and I fucked up the transition between several songs.

I couldn’t get into it.

And I should. This was a dream come true for the young punk in me who’d once dreamed of becoming a rock star. It was gonna be a big festival, and crew was running around all over the place. The sun shone down on us, people were hollering orders and instructions, tents were being assembled, delivery trucks fought over parking spaces, and various bands performed soundcheck.

Forty-five thousand tickets sold. Eighteen bands. Food trucks, beer tents, the whole nine yards. Everything was going to come together on this massive field in the middle of the woods.

“Yo, everybody take ten,” Nicky ordered.

I made a face and set down my guitar in its stand, then watched the others walk off the stage.

We had everything set up the way we wanted it for tonight. Choir in the back next to the drums, Sylvia on the keyboard, my Hammond organ next to it, Chris with his bass next to our amps, and then Nicky and me at the front.

Nicky lifted a brow at me. “You wanna tell me why I’m here listening to you dying when I coulda been with Gid at the hotel pool right now?”

I blew out a breath and slumped down in front of my Hammond. “Thanks for sugarcoating that.”

“You’re welcome. Thought you needed it.” He uncapped his bottle of water and sat down on the stage floor. “Last year, you helped me when I didn’t know if Gideon and I were gonna happen. Something tells me I’ll be able to return the favor soon.”

I side-eyed him. “I don’t know what tells you that. August, Camden, and I aren’t becoming a thing.”