John slips a guitar over his head and steps up to the mic. God, my man is sexy onstage, all swaggering hip and impish smiles. The olive green T-shirt he wears hugs his lean muscles, and when he grips the mic, his biceps bunch. I swear, half the audience goes wild over that sight—made larger than life on the huge screen set up behind the stage. In that moment, he becomes Jax Blackwood.
Jax’s smile grows, and someone in the audience screeches her undying love for him. His rich voice echoes over the park. “Hello, New York City!” More screaming. He pauses until it dies down a little. “Tonight is special. Tonight is for the beautiful ones we have lost, and for all the beautiful ones who suffer in silence.”
A few people whistle, but it’s gone so quiet that you can hear the rough emotion in Jax’s voice now. “We’re raising our voice tonight to let the world know that it no longer has to be silent when it comes to mental health. To let them know that they will be loved.”
Tears blur my vision, and I press a hand to my chest. Months in the making, my first project with Kill John was to help put this concert together. Dozens of artists have donated their time to perform to raise awareness for mental health and suicide prevention. Kill John will go first, mostly singing songs by idols we’ve all lost.
A heavy guitar riff slices through the air as Killian starts to play; Whip and Rye join in. The crowd goes wild. Jax begins to sing Nirvana’s “Drain You.” It isn’t sentimental or sweet, but Jax said it was one of Cobain’s favorites, so that’s what Kill John picked.
They don’t sound like Nirvana, though. They sound like themselves, perfect in their own way. I dance along, watching my man lean into the mic, all at once tight with power yet loose with confidence. As soon as the song ends, Killian and Jax start a duet of Soundgarden’s “Fell On Black Days.”
I love watching them together, the way they feed off each other, and how they’ll fall back and give it to Rye or Whip. These guys are a seamless machine, and yet they still have a raw enthusiasm. I know they feel total joy up there, and it’s contagious.
When they play “Apathy” and “Rush Love” a newer song of theirs, their energy lights up the night. Then Jax, sweaty and now gloriously shirtless, sets down his guitar and adjusts his mic. “You’re going to hear a lot of classics tonight. This one is a bit different. It’s for someone special to me.” Somehow, his eyes meet mine and he gives me a smile, that secret smile that belongs to no one else but me. “For Stella, ‘The resolution of all my fruitless searches.’”
My heart turns over in my chest, and I blow him a kiss.
Killian, though, leans in and laughingly asks, “Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t always go as expected, man.”
Whip drums out a campy, “da-dum-dum” on his drums. The audience laughs. Every Kill John fan knows that Killian once infamously dedicated Prince’s “Darling Nikki” to Libby, not realizing the context of the song wasn’t exactly the message he’d wanted to send.
Jax smirks at Killian. “Unlike you, I pay attention to the lyrics.” He glances back at me, his heart in his eyes, then turns his attention to the crowd. “I’m hoping you know this song enough to help me out and sing along.”
Despite their banter, the band has clearly planned this. Rye moves to a keyboard, and they start as one. It takes a few notes for me to get the song, but when I do, I smile wide, tears welling in my eyes. At my side, Brenna leans close, nudging my shoulder with a happy grin.
Jax sings Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.” His voice is rough with emotion, his gaze mostly on me. The crowd sings with him, thousands of voices lifting up as one. Shivers break out over my skin, and I know in that moment what it means for Jax to be on that stage, how it feeds his soul and how he gives it back to the world. I sing too, return the words, meaning them with all I am.
As soon as they’re done, Jax jogs off the stage, waving his thanks to the cheering fans as he goes. He heads straight to me without falter, like he knew exactly where I’d been the whole time. Covered in sweat and glowing with vitality, he smiles, and I fling myself into his arms. “I love you.”
He lifts me off my feet, hugging tight before setting me down. “I love you too, Stella Button.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I say, kissing his cheek, his lips, his chin.