Dex stood there in a three-piece suit, taller than most and more in control than anyone. He’d aged well too, so well my knees practically went weak as I got to the chorus. His gaze was cold, though. His green eyes sliced through me like I was a weed in his path. And maybe I was. I was an obstacle, a disturbance for him, one he definitely didn’t want. In that moment, the only anchor I had was the mic in front of me. I gripped it like a lifeline and let the words flow out of me. I bled my emotions out onto that stage because my music did that for me every time.
