Page 159 of Graves

“But… I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

I didn’t expect the wave of emotion that hits me. As if those few words lifted an entire boulder from my shoulders, I feel relief—but at the same time, fear surges up.

What if this is a mistake?

The stage has always been my home.

A heavy sadness settles over me like a lead cloak, one I can’t easily shake off. But the truth is, I’m longing for Koh and for a life away from the spotlight—at least for now.

I stand at the edge of the stage, looking out at a visibly shocked audience. The noise level drops. The last rumbling notes of Sam’s bass fade away. Feeling especially guilty toward the band, I turn to the guys.

“We were planning to keep going—with or without a label. I said yes, but…” My voice cracks. I feel something inside me break. I’m still standing upright on stage, but my head is lowered and my shoulders slumped, like I’m standing in the rain. “I can’t, guys,” I say, just loud enough for the mic to catch it like a whisper. “Five years is a long time. I’ve barely had a chance to settle in.”

While I struggle for words, Sam walks over and pulls me into a hug. “I had a feeling this was all happening too fast,” he says against my ear so only I can hear. “Don’t feel bad about it. I’m proud of you.”

As Sam lets go, Mike steps in and hugs me tight. “I’m glad you realized it in time, Aranator.”

“Yeah!” Liam calls from behind the drums. “Otherwise, we would’ve given you hell!”

For a moment I don’t understand the world anymore.

Did they really see this coming?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We just know you too well,” Sam answers. “But this decision had to be yours alone.”

A smile tugs at my lips.

I can always count on my band.

The audience reacts first with confusion, but then the shouts and applause grow louder again.

“We’re not done yet!” Mike calls into the mic. “Let’s make some noise!”

On command, the hall erupts in thunderous cheers. The crowd loses it during the next song.

My voice is still a little shaky, but I quickly regain my strength. It’s only during the song that I realize my time on stage is coming to an end.

Of course, nothing is stopping me from stepping back on stage someday after I retire, but knowing there’s an end in sight feels like a turbo boost. I’m buzzing with energy and can almost feel it spilling over into the audience.

After four encores, I say goodbye to the crowd. “In two and a half weeks, we’ll play our final show. We have the honor of opening for Nightstalker. If you have tickets—see you there! To everyone else, thank you for being here and celebrating this gig with us!”

34

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Aran

“Aran! What the actual fuck!” Leslie snaps at me the second I step off the stage. “Are you kidding me? What the hell was that? You said you’d keep going!”

I catch the towel Liam tosses me and dab it into my sweat-drenched face. My head is spinning, still buzzing from the show and the vodka. The fact that Leslie is taking my decision personally doesn’t even register right now.

I wipe the sweat from my face, drape the white towel around my neck, and sigh. “I’m sorry, Leslie, but on this—”

“You want more money?” she interrupts. “We haven’t talked numbers yet, but I’m sure Douglas would be willing to sweeten the deal.”

“You know it was never about the money.” I follow Sam and Mike into the dressing room, where Fox hands me a cup of water.