Prologue

Eddie

The crowd sounds wild from where we stand backstage. It's a special night for Black Diamond's biggest fan, five-year-old Amelia. It was fate I met her mother after one of our shows, as I don't usually stop and talk to fans once we leave a venue; the chance of getting mobbed is too high, and while we have security, it's not worth the risk.

The day I met Sasha, Amelia's mother, it was different. We left via a back entrance and there were no cameras in our faces, and no wild fans screaming or throwing underwear our way—I loved being a rock star, but some days it was too much.

Sasha was sitting on the stairs of the adjacent building, and the sadness on her face was of a broken woman with no hope and nowhere left to turn. The boys loaded into the limo—cliché, I know, but my brother Mickki likes the finer things that come with being a famous rock star—and I was stupid enough to go off on my own. She could have been anyone, but my gut feeling was she needed someone.

She was startled when I crouched down in front of her, and she looked up at me with sadness as I asked if she was okay. It was then her uncontrollable tears started. Instinctually, I took a stranger in my arms, and without knowing what was wrong, I held her. For a few minutes, her pain was my pain—my heart ached for her.

My security detail found us and organised for another car. Mickki wasn't impressed that I was "intentionally putting myself in danger," but I didn't care. This woman intrigued me, and I needed to know what broke her. When she calmed down, she told me about her daughter and her disease. She explained it in detail, but I didn't know what any of it meant—only since it was stage two, it was incurable. She asked how it was possible to explain to her young daughter that her body would start to fail her and she was going to die.

Curious, I asked her why she was sitting on the stairs—why here? Apparently, Amelia was our youngest and biggest fan, even though our music wasn't totally appropriate for a kid.

Sasha returned to my hotel room with me, and we talked for hours. She asked if I would meet with Amelia, and I wasn't sure how to react. I wasn't good with kids. Fuck, I hadn't met one in the last twenty years, at least. The closest I'd come was the jizz in the used condoms I threw away every night. Sad, but true. Reluctantly, I agreed to a meeting, though not for the reasons one might have thought. It was because I was a disappointment—always had been, always would be—but I didn't want a sick child to be disappointed by me as well.

The first time I met Amelia, I was at a loss for words. The little girl lit up the room with her presence. She was so full of life. I didn't understand why she had to be sick—why not an arsehole like me? That night was the first time I'd ever prayed. I'm not even sure who I prayed to, I guess anyone who would listen, but I begged them to take me instead. After that, I went out of my way every day to see Amelia, and if I was away, I would Skype with her.

Sasha wasn't happy when I threw my money around. While I got opinions from the best doctors that money could buy, the diagnosis was always the same. I had to accept that I couldn't change it, but what I could do was to make every day they had left together memorable for them both. I never asked where Amelia's father was because a man stupid enough to give up his family, especially this one, wasn't worth wasting my breath on.

Sasha hated my gifts and always asked how she could pay me back. I told her one day, when the time was right, she would know how to pay me back.

Amelia told me one day she wanted to play the guitar on stage with me, so here we are. She is decked out in pink glitter headphones to drown out how loud it is on stage and the best kick-arse rocker outfit you can buy for a little girl.

Mickki walks onto the stage, and the crowd chants his name. His intro is usually a lot cruder, but for today he tones it down. He really doesn't understand my relationship with Amelia and Sasha, but he respects me enough to hide any misgivings. He waits until the crowd noise dies down enough to hear what he's about to say.

"Tonight, we have a guest of honour. She wants to play the guitar with her favourite band. She is a very special young girl, and tonight we are honoured to make her dreams come true."

As we enter the stage, the crowd goes wild. Amelia asks me to take her to Mickki, and we walk over. She pulls gently at his hand, and he squats down, then she whispers in his ear. I see a smile creep over his face.

"Sorry, everyone. I've just been informed she's also going to marry Eddie and be his wife." With that, Amelia's world is a happy place.

I kiss her on the cheek and take her to a stool we've set up for her next to me. For her sake, we have kept her name secret, or the press will think this is a publicity stunt. If people were to find out how close we are, they'd have a field day and rip Amelia's and Sasha's lives to shreds.

She sits on the stool with the little pink guitar I bought her for tonight and we play our first song. "Relentless" is Amelia's favourite, plus it works well for this situation, as it's one of our slower songs. The smile on her face is worth all the time and effort we've put into getting this right.

Unfortunately, the few minutes it takes to play the song uses every ounce of energy she has inside her small body.

After an explosive round of applause and an acknowledgement from the band members, she's all but collapsing against me. Even though she assures me she's fine, I have a team of doctors on standby to ensure everything is okay. She tells the audience the show must go on without her, sparking another booming cheer. Concerned, I tell her go lie down with her mum. I have a room set up with a TV monitor and a day bed, so she can watch the rest of the concert. I don't want her to miss out on one piece of this night.

The day after the show, headlines were everywhere. As I predicted, they all said I was only doing it for publicity, and before I met Sasha and Amelia, all the things they said might have been true. I won't lie, I would've done anything to get the band publicity. All I'd cared about was me and my brother. We were all that mattered until I met her, and she melted my damn heart, a five-year-old girl.

Sasha and I have become close over the last twelve months, and she is the best friend I could ask for. She is someone who doesn't idolise me, who isn't willing to put up with my crap, and she is the first one to call me out when I am being an arse.

Recording our new album is taking up all my time, and I haven't seen Amelia in a few weeks. Although I have tried to talk to her as much as I can, she has gotten worse and isn't able to talk as often as before. She Skyped me this morning and made me promise to come see her because she didn't feel well and needed my special hugs.

After we packed up for the day, our manager told us we had a meeting with some people who could take our fame to the next level, and we all had to be in attendance. No matter how much I begged, he didn't give a shit—I had to be there. Reluctantly, I sent off a text to Sasha saying I couldn't make it, but throughout the meeting, I couldn't get my mind off Amelia's little voice telling me she needed my hug.

There's a knock at the door, and my heart sinks as an overwhelming feeling of dread overtakes me. The receptionist walks in, and someone yells at her to get out because we are all busy, but she stands her ground and looks at me, insistent that I answer my phone now .

I fish it out of my pocket and see I have forty missed calls from Sasha. In a panic, I call her back, but she's crying so hard when she answers, she can't spit out the words in any coherency. I plead with her to tell me what's going on, but she only cries harder.

"WHO HAS A FUCKING CAR?! I NEED A FUCKING CAR NOW!" I bellow, and someone throws me their keys. I don't know who it was, or what car they're for, but I run.

"Put the phone to her ear, Sasha," I demand. I need to tell her I'm sorry. That I'm coming. "Baby girl, this is your Eddie. I'm coming to give you a cuddle, do you hear me? I'm on my way now."

Thank God the car has a tracker, so I can find them with ease.

I know I break every road rule on the way to the hospital, but I don't care.

I don't care that I'm alone.

I don't care about anything right now, except that I broke a promise to a little girl, and I may never get the chance to hold her again.

I park in a loading zone and run through the corridors until I get to Amelia's room, only to find Sasha holding her in her arms.

"We should have had more time," she cries out in despair.

"No, no, no," I sob, kneeling beside the bed as I take Amelia's lifeless hand into mine. I didn't make it, and I can't even look at Sasha. "I'm so sorry, baby girl. I'm so, so, so sorry I didn't get to you." My heart feels like it's about to explode in my chest.

The next thing I know, Marcus and the rest of my security detail are pulling me from her room. I can't breathe—my lungs have lost all air and can't seem to get any more. A nurse hands me a paper bag and tells me to breathe, just breathe.

When I get home from the hospital, I cry. There was nothing I could do. Sasha wouldn't talk to me, and I don't blame her. I should have been there. I keep thinking I would give up my life in a second to have made it in time. But instead, I stayed at that stupid fucking meeting when I should have told them all to get fucked.

Needing something to numb the pain, I take my first handful of pills.

A few days later, Amelia's funeral is a blur. I watch from a distance until everyone else leaves. I'm sure Sasha knows I'm here, but my presence is too little, too late. When the last car drives away, I sing one last song to my biggest fan.