I don't know who's more surprised about getting the green light to perform my first concert back in Thunder Bay. Is it me, because I expected pushback from my label to have something more extravagant in a larger city? Or is it Mom, since I accidentally-on-purpose forgot to tell her I was initiating the conversation about performing again at all, and went around her? In my defense, once my band convinced me it was an idea worth exploring, I didn't want to risk being talked out of it and figured I would deal with the consequences later.

It turns out the person most taken aback isn't me, and it also isn't Mom. It's actually Sawyer, because he and his band are booked as my opening act and it means he's returning to Thunder Bay with me. I also neglected to share my plans with him and was going to reveal all once things were finalized, but his people beat me to telling him.

"I was just there. Do you think anyone in the city wants to see me perform again?" Sawyer asks when he calls me to find out what's going on.

"The label thinks they'll love it," I say. "Your popularity there soared after people realized you tried to stop what Bowie was doing at the festival and then rushed over to help Hunter get me to the safety of your bus when I fainted."

The publicity plans are to market the show as my thank you to the city that helped me heal, since it's now public knowledge I was staying in the area for over a month. Paisley swears the information didn't come from her, Hunter, their parents, or Brooke, and it doesn't matter anyway. My label can market the show any way they'd like to, as long as it gets me there.

The one thing I do insist on is if it's being promoted as a thank-you concert, then ticket giveaways are a must and other events in the city should be set up for the days immediately following the show. I might have an ulterior motive for wanting to stay there for more than one night, and there's no question that Mom is on to me, but she doesn't bring it up. It isn't just because I want the chance to spend time with Hunter if he's open to reconnecting, although this is a huge part of it. I also want to have a meet-and-greet with fans there, and to take part in anything else that can be arranged.

I send a group text to Hunter and Paisley the night before the concert announcement. Paisley is sure to respond. Maybe some of her enthusiasm will rub off and Hunter will say something, too. If nothing else, he'll know what's going on, that I want to see both of them, and that there will be front-row tickets waiting for them at the box office.

Hey! I wanted both of you to hear this from me before the announcement tomorrow. I'm playing a show at the Thunder Bay Community Auditorium in a couple of weeks. It would mean the world to me if both of you, your parents, and Brooke are there. I'll have tickets and passes for backstage for all of you. I hope you'll come!

Paisley's first reply is five rows of smiley-face emojis. Then she sends a second text, telling me they'll be there and how she can't wait to see me. When Hunter hasn't answered by the next day, I send a separate message just to Paisley, breaking my vow to myself to not check in on him through her.

Did Hunter seem okay with the news? I haven't heard from him at all and am wondering if he even wants to come to my show.

He'll be there, Paisley replies. Trust me on this.

Without hearing from Hunter himself about how he feels, trusting Paisley is all I can do.

* * *

The next two weeks pass by in a blur of rehearsals with my band and phone interviews with radio stations in Thunder Bay. The DJs who interview me have instructions that questions about Hunter are off-limits, and none are asked. It doesn't stop the online chatter about him and me, though, and the location of my upcoming show gives the subject of our relationship new life just when it had started to taper off. I pray the paparazzi decides against making the trek there in hopes of a photo op.

It's after eleven o'clock on the night before my show when my flight to Thunder Bay touches down, and it's past midnight by the time Mom, my band, and I are checked into our hotel. This was always our itinerary, though, and every moment of the next day from noon up until sound check and then until the concert starts is scheduled with something. It's why I haven't asked Hunter or Paisley if they can meet up with me before the show.

The hope is they'll both join me backstage afterward. Knowing that time is coming makes it a struggle to stay in the present moment and not venture off into daydreams throughout the day after I've woken up, gotten ready, and had a late breakfast at the hotel's restaurant with Mom, Kara, Dylan, Key, Sawyer, and Sawyer's band. We cause a bit of a scene in the dining room, and a few people stop by the table to say hi and ask if they can take photos, but every person we meet is respectful and kind. There has been no sign of the paps yet, and for the first time in a long time, my guard is down.

After an interview at the local TV news station, and then an in-studio radio interview with all of my band, we're off to the Community Auditorium for sound check for both my band and Sawyer's band. Sound check is followed by a quick dinner at a restaurant close by, and then it's back to the venue for makeup and hair.

I set my phone aside on a table in the green room while my makeup is applied. I don't look at it again until after my makeup is finished and I've changed into my stage clothes. When I do, there's a message from Paisley on the screen.

We're all here. Yes, Hunter too. We'll see you after the show!

To say my stomach somersaults a few times is an understatement. Whatever it's doing is more like a gymnastics tumbling routine, and I don't know how much of it is the realization that I'm about to be on a stage in front of people again, or that one of those people is Hunter and I'll be able to see him in the front row.

"Are you going to be okay?" Dylan asks, startling me out of my thoughts. I turn to look at him and the rest of my band. All eyes are on me.

"It's just pre-show jitters," I tell him, even though what I'm feeling is on a level beyond that. "I'll be fine. Let's do this."

I inhale slowly, expanding my lungs with all the air I can gulp in, and then I release the breath. Sawyer and his band just went on, so there's still a while for me to wait. It gives me time to calm down. But as I stare at the TV monitor bolted high in the corner of the room and watch Sawyer perform, I can't help but wish for a glimpse of the audience. The camera is at the wrong angle for it, though. This means I won't see Hunter's face until I'm on stage in front of him, unless I make my way to the stage and try to look out from the wings.

"You want to go out there," Kara states, sounding matter-of-fact. "Come on. I'll go with you."

She hooks her arm around my elbow and leads me out of the green room before I can protest. The closer we get to the stage, the more shallow my breathing becomes.

Shake off the nerves, I command myself. Kara must sense what's going on with me, because she stops walking and puts her hands on my shoulders.

"Breathe," she says. "I know you, and I think you're more anxious about seeing Hunter than you are about performing. We're just going out there for a minute or two so you can see him before you're in front of him, and it will help."

I gulp and nod, and Kara grabs my elbow again. We walk until we're in an area at one side of the stage where I can look out at the audience, but where the audience can't spot me. I catch sight of Brooke's blue hair first, and then I shift my gaze to Paisley, who is sitting beside her. And finally, next to Paisley is Hunter, whose head is bent down as he types on his phone.

He's had a haircut since the last time I saw him, putting his hair at the length it was on the day we met. I study him, noticing everything from his pinstriped charcoal button-up shirt to his black pants and boots, to the way the lights from the stage shine on his hair. He raises his head and turns his attention to the stage, seeming relaxed and as though he's enjoying himself. But then I notice the tight grip he has on his phone and how he keeps glancing at its screen and then at the side of the stage where I am, as if he sees me or senses I'm here.

I left my phone in the green room with the rest of my things. Something in Hunter's expression urges me to return there and check my messages. Before I nudge Kara to go, I look at Hunter again. Maybe he can see me here, because I swear our eyes lock. A small, nervous smile forms on my lips. A second later, Hunter smiles in much the same way.

I raise my hand in a tentative wave. The motion must catch Sawyer's attention, too, because he glances at Hunter and at me while he sings, and then he winks. It's officially time for me to get out of here before other people in the audience figure out I'm stage side. I don't want to distract them from Sawyer's performance.

Kara stays quiet while we leave the stage area, but she's practically bursting by the time we reach the green room. She saw everything, and there's pure glee in her eyes.

"Do you feel better now?" she asks.

"A million percent," I say.

It's the truth. My nerves are back to recognizable pre-performance butterflies, and even though Paisley assured me he was here, the anxiety I've been carrying about whether or not Hunter would come to the show and what his reaction would be to seeing me has evaporated.

Dylan and Key seem curious about the shift in my mood that's taken place since a few minutes ago, but neither of them says a word as I slip past them to retrieve my phone. When I get to it, I confirm my hunch was right. Finally, there's a message from Hunter, and it's a long one.

Hi. First, I owe you an apology for dropping off the planet and an explanation for why I've been such a jerk since you've been gone, but you deserve so much more than a text for that. I promise I'll explain if you're open to hearing it, but I won't blame you if you aren't. Second, thank you for inviting me to your show and for wanting me to be here at all. Third, I can see you at the side of the stage and you look incredible and so beyond beautiful. Don't be nervous about performing, okay? Everything will be fine, and you've got this.

I read his message a few times, tracing over it with my finger and touching the words I've been waiting to see. I'll admit I'm confused about the non-verbal communication we had a couple of minutes ago and the contrast between it, this message, and his weeks of silence, but I'll get to the bottom of everything soon. He's here, and that's all that matters to me at the moment.

Thank you for being here, I type back. Of course I'm open to hearing it. I can't wait to see you and talk to you after the show.

I pause, debating with myself over whether or not to add the heart emoji I want to put at the end of my message, in case it's too much after not talking for so long. Then I remember the song I'm debuting in front of him tonight, and that I've made a commitment to be true to myself, and I know the heart belongs there. I add it and hit send, and then put my phone down.

It's almost show time, and I'm ready for it.