30. Declan

THIRTY

DECLAN

Lennon's the reason I'm here. He's been in my ear, pushing me to go get my man. All the guys have been rallying behind me, knowing what Savion means to me. If it wasn't for them, Crystelle wouldn't have agreed to a substitute rhythm guitarist for the show tonight. She's a badass, takes no shit from anyone, so if the band hadn't been fully on board, I'd be on stage right now, trying not to mess up another set.

But I was a wreck back in LA. I was screwing up rehearsals because I felt like Savion was a breath away from dumping me. Then I heard about the retrial and it gutted me that I wasn't there with him. I thought I was going to explode from the frustration and helplessness.

Mentally shaking myself from my musing, I glance at my phone. It's still early enough in LA. I text Lennon.

Me: I'm with Savvy.

I see the blue tick—Lennon's read it. Three dots pop up, and I'm surprised he's typing back this close to showtime.

Lennon: That's great, Dec. Don't fuck this up. *winking face emoji*

Me: I'll try my best. Good luck tonight.

No reply. The guys must be heading for the stage now.

The bathroom door creaks open and Savion steps into the bedroom.

He's breathtaking—no makeup, his curls wild, yet perfect. He stands in the soft light, strands of hair falling over the left side of his face like always. I would never tell him not to put on makeup as long as he wants to wear it, but I'm over the moon that he realizes he doesn't have to hide from me, that I appreciate the gift he's given me to see all of him, and that he's beautiful to me.

"So, tell me about the concert you should've been playing tonight," he says, his voice playful.

I grin. "Wow, keeping tabs on Orion Skye, huh?"

His eyebrows pull together slightly, curious, but I'm not about to dive into band talk right now. Not when I'm here. With him.

He grabs his laptop, sits next to me on the bed and pulls up Spotify. "I'm in the mood for some good music."

"Yeah?" I smirk.

He types in Orion Skye and gives me one of those mischievous grins that drive me wild.

"That's your idea of good music?"

He laughs. "The best."

God, this man. He makes everything inside me feel calm, centered.

Standing, I extend my hand. "C'mere, baby."

He puts his hand in mine and I draw him in. We wrap our arms around each other, his around my neck and mine around his waist.

The way he moves, the slow, deliberate sway of his hips—it does something to me every time.

He sings along as "You Belong to Me" plays—our first Top 10 hit from over two decades ago. I'm surprised he knows the words. When we met, Savion didn't even know who I was, or much about the band.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he says, laughing. "Kelly made me listen to all your songs."

"I didn't say anything," I tease.

He smiles, and something in my chest tightens.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Dash—and the rest of the band. You guys rock," he says, and coming from him, those words mean more than any sold-out show or chart-topping hit.

He traces my lips with his fingertips, his touch featherlight.

Everything in me stills—the beating of my heart, the warmth spreading through my veins, the soft film of sweat on my skin. I shiver under his touch, aching to be closer.

"I love you, Savion." The words come easily, spilling out with raw emotion. "From the moment I met you, part of me knew I'd fall for you. I'm in love with you."

Last night, in the heat of passion, we'd said we loved each other many times. But I need to keep saying it. I need him to feel it. To know it.

His breath catches, and I see it—the way his eyes shimmer, dark and deep, pools of green that hold so much.

I lean in, capturing his lips, tasting coffee, inhaling the familiar scent of him. My hand cups the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his thick curls, while my other hand roams over the curve of his arm, memorizing every inch of him.

The music fades in the background as he stares at me, holding my gaze like he's looking right through to my soul. His forehead rests against mine, and he whispers, "I love you, Declan. You make me feel… you challenge me… you see me, every ugly part, and you still stay. You came for me when I pushed you away. How could I not love you?"

I open my mouth to tell him there's no part of him that's ugly. Not a single piece. But I let him speak. There'll be time for that.

"And, Declan… I missed you. I missed us. You make me feel like no matter what happens, I can survive it all. You've helped me trust again. You've shown me I'm not broken. That I can believe in someone. You make me feel safe."

Those words—they settle something deep inside me. "I missed you more, baby." I squeeze his hands. "I'm never letting you go again, Savvy. We'll face everything together. Always."

His smile brightens the room, brighter than anything I've ever known.