The music pulsed through the air like electricity, the crowd’s screams and cheers growing louder with every beat. Eddie’s voice ripped through the speakers—raw, powerful—as he belted out the lyrics to his newest song. His guitar hung around his shoulders, momentarily forgotten as he gripped the microphone with both hands, pouring his heart into every word.

To his left, Kyle shredded on guitar, fingers flying across the strings, while Jeff held down the bass with steady rhythm. Behind them, Garth’s drumsticks were a blur, hammering out the beat with precision and intensity. Together, they sounded incredible—tight, explosive, alive.

You stood off to the side of the stage, arms crossed lightly over your chest, a small smile pulling at your lips as you watched them. As you watched him.

Eddie Munson—your Eddie—was living his dream.

The band had finally been signed, and now they were touring, making their mark. Of course, he hadn’t even considered leaving you behind. You’d been with him from the start, long before the sold-out venues and screaming fans. Since day one, you’d been his loudest cheerleader, his unwavering support, his so-called “lucky charm.” He’d told you more than once that none of this would’ve happened without you—and you believed him.

You’d naturally slipped into the role of their unofficial manager—helping out with logistics, giving notes, even breaking up the occasional ego clash. But despite the rising fame, the guys had stayed grounded. They respected you, and more than that, they trusted you. Somewhere along the way, you’d all become a tight-knit little family. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

As you stood watching from the shadows of the stage, Eddie’s eyes flicked in your direction. He caught your gaze and gave you a quick wink, making your smile widen. Then he turned back to the crowd, grabbing the mic stand with practiced ease, placing the microphone back in place.

In one fluid motion, he swung his guitar forward and let it settle across his chest, gripping the neck with practiced ease. The crowd went wild. Your heart skipped a beat.

You watched him smirk knowingly—he felt that reaction—and then, without missing a beat, he launched into the next solo. His fingers danced over the strings like second nature, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. The lights, the sound, the way he moved—it was magnetic. Powerful.

Your smile never faded. Watching him like this, fully in his element, was one of your favorite things in the world. Seeing him so happy, so free, made your chest ache in the best way. You let yourself soak in the moment, your eyes tracing over the curve of his jaw, the way his hair moved when he tilted his head, the concentration in his eyes.

And just like that, you fell in love with him all over again.

With a soft sigh, you leaned back against the wall, letting the music crash around you, the heartbeat of everything you’d built together echoing in every note.