Page 72 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

I took the high note without forcing it. The sound lifted into the canopy and carried past the rows of seats toward the dark Atlantic.

When I released it, the crowd rose.

By the final number, my legs burned, my shirt clung to my back, and every part of me felt awake.

The band hit the last chord.

Light flooded the pavilion.

I stood at center with my chest heaving and the fans still shouting.

I could have left it there.

The show had delivered what the label wanted. The cameras had their comeback footage. The people in the seats had the songs.

But Cassidy stood at the wing because she’d made sure the delay ended with me onstage.

I raised the microphone.

“One more thing before I let you go.”

The crowd softened enough to hear me.

“Some of you got sent to the wrong gate tonight because somebody posted an announcement that wasn’t real. Thank you for listening to the venue staff and keeping each other safe.”

Applause rolled through the seats.

“Sunbreak Security got me here tonight after a weekend that gave them more work than I’d recommend.”

Laughter scattered through the seats.

I turned toward the left wing.

“And Cassidy O’Shea made sure I reached this stage without letting anyone else get hurt along the way.”

The spotlight operator didn’t find her. I was glad.

Cassidy stayed beside the curtain, beyond the fans’ view.

“She’s the best bodyguard in Florida,” I said. “She’ll deny that and ask me for supporting data.”

They laughed again.

Cassidy shook her head.

I grinned. “Thank you, Cass—Cassidy.”

I caught the private nickname before it reached the microphone.

Cassidy smiled.

I faced them.

“And thank all of you for giving me somewhere to come back to.”

The applause rose again.

I bowed with the band and dancers, then left the platform before anyone could demand an encore my legs might not survive.