25. Derek’s Destiny

DEREK

Backstage at the Jubilee was buzzing like a hornet’s nest, bodies moving in and out of the tent like they ain’t got no sense. Destiny and her team did her thing setting me up with this tent but God damn it was too many people in here. Too many bodies, too many voices.

“Yo! If you ain't family or part of my team, get the fuck out!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise like a razor.

Heads turned, and a couple of folks started scrambling for the exit like they’d been caught in the wrong room. My crew knew the drill. I needed to be surrounded by my people, my real ones only.

I scanned the tent, eyes sweeping over my team—my ride-or-dies, the ones who had been with me since day one. I nodded at Rich, who was already working on securing the area, making sure only the right faces stayed. Hakeem was in the corner, barking orders into his phone like he was negotiating peace treaties or something. The rest of the crew was doing their thing, getting in the zone, and of course eating all the free shit and drinking up the liquor.

But my gaze kept drifting to Destiny. She was off to the side, standing in a small circle with Eden, her mom and my future mother in law. Destiny was holding her hand up, showing off that rock I put on her finger, her face lit up like the sun. I couldn’t help but smile, seeing her that happy. She’d earned that joy, earned every damn carat of it. Her momma’s eyes were wide, looking like she was seeing her daughter in a whole new light. Eden was there, nodding and smiling, but I could see something in her eyes—a flicker of worry, sadness, something she was holding back.

But right now, that wasn’t my focus. My woman was glowing, talking a mile a minute, and I could see her holding court, explaining every little detail of how I proposed. I couldn’t hear her words over the noise of the tent, but I knew the story by heart. I’d played it in my head a million times before I actually did it. The candles, the flowers, the balcony, the way she looked at me when I dropped to one knee like I was the only man in the world. Yeah, she was on cloud nine, and I was the one who put her there.

The ring caught the light, flashing like a diamond bullet, and I could see the pride in her eyes as she showed it off. That was my woman, my future. I was about to go out there and tear this stage apart, but right now, watching her beam like that, I felt like I’d already won.

“Where’s my parents and my brother?” I yelled out to anybody within earshot as I tried to stay focus on the present, the nerves starting to edge into frustration. It was almost time to hit the stage, and I still hadn’t seen them. I needed them here.

“Ant is parking right now, he has your parents,” Marcy called out as she stepped in, clipboard in hand, her voice calm like she was used to my barking.

“Good,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, feeling a knot in my chest loosen just a bit.

I could be a little on edge right before and after a performance. Downright mean sometimes, if I’m being real. But with Destiny here, her mama too, I did my best to reign it in. I had to keep it cool, keep it together. The last thing I wanted was to snap on the wrong person in front of them and have Destiny looking at me like I’d lost my damn mind.

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jitters, the tension riding my shoulders like a weight. The noise of the tent—the chatter, the laughter, the last-minute run-throughs—buzzed around me, but I kept my focus on her. Destiny caught my eye, sensing the storm brewing beneath the surface. She flashed me a quick smile, the kind that always cut through my chaos, settling me in a way nothing else could.

I nodded back at her, then shifted my eyes to the tent flap, waiting for Ant to come through with my parents.

“Aye, congrats on the engagement and everything, man,” Hakeem said, pulling me into a quick dap and slap on the back.

“Thanks, bro. For everything,” I replied, my tone genuine. He’d been a real one, helping me pull this whole thing off without Destiny suspecting a damn thing, and that wasn’t easy.

“But, umm, we need to talk about that thing,” Keem said, lowering his voice and leaning in.

“That shit gotta wait, Keem,” I cut him off, not wanting anything to mess with my vibe before I hit that stage. My adrenaline was already up, and I wasn’t in the mood for more drama.

“Can’t, it involves Des,” he insisted, his eyes steady, voice low.

That got my attention quick. My smile faded as I sized him up, trying to read what was behind his words.

“And I’m saying it now before we get outside ‘cause there’s some dudes out here we need to keep an eye on.”, he pushed.

“Who?” I asked, my tone shifting from irritated to serious.

“Some fool named Arnold, and the other one name is Johnathon,” Keem said, his eyes flicking around like he was keeping a lookout. “Eden said that’s—”

“Des’ bitch-ass ex,” I finished for him, my voice low and tight. The name hit my ears like a bad note, setting my teeth on edge. I could feel the muscles in my jaw tighten as that familiar heat started to rise up in my chest.

I glanced over at Destiny, still laughing and smiling with her mom and Eden, completely unaware of the storm brewing outside this tent. I wasn’t about to let anyone fuck up this night for her, not after everything we’d been through to get here.

“Look, that’s why extra security is here,” Keem said, keeping his voice low but steady. “Why Des and Eden haven’t been able to make a move without them on their asses all day, even though they don’t even know.” He had that look in his eye—the one that meant he’d been working behind the scenes, handling shit like he always did.

One thing about Keem, he was always on it. Handling problems before I even had to say a word, anticipating shit like he could see the future. That’s my nigga right there—loyal, sharp, and always ready to move.

“So, about the invoice—” he started, trying to keep things professional, even in the middle of all this chaos.

“I don’t give a fuck about the price when it comes to Destiny,” I cut him off, my voice like steel. I didn’t want to hear a word about the cost when it came to keeping her safe, not with everything she meant to me.

Keem nodded, already knowing. “I figured, but wanted you to know,” he said, and I could see that glint in his eye—the one that told me he’d already handled it, like always.

“Good lookin’ out,” I said, my voice firm with appreciation. “They better not play when it comes to those two.”

“They already know,” Keem replied, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk watching for any sudden moves.

Just then, the tent flap swung open, and Ant came in with my parents right behind him. They looked around, taking in the scene—the lights, the buzz of people moving, the air thick with anticipation. Ant caught my eye and gave me a nod. My folks looked proud but a little overwhelmed by all the chaos backstage. Mama’s face softened when she spotted Destiny, and I could see the relief wash over her.

“Tell me everything at the crib, but keep an eye out,” I said to Keem, my voice low and serious.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but I knew if I found out too much too soon, it’d have me tearing this whole place apart before I even hit the stage.

Keem nodded, his face all business. “I got you, Boss-Man.”

I turned back to my parents, a smile breaking across my face as I walked over to greet them. My heart was still beating fast, a mix of adrenaline for the show and the tension from what Keem just told me. But right now, I had to focus. My family was here, and in a few minutes, I was about to set this whole Jubilee on fire.

“Destiny making a man outta you, boy,” my father said, pulling me into one of his tight, back-slapping hugs.

“Hey, man,” I said, squeezing him back just as tight.

My old man might talk a lot of shit, but I knew he was proud.

“Your Mama over there looking at Destiny’s ring,” he continued, nodding toward where Mama was with Destiny and the rest of the women, eyes glued to that rock. “She better not ask my ass for an upgrade. You put a damn continent on that little girl's hand.”

I laughed, knowing he was half-joking but also half-serious. "Had to do it right, Pops.”

“You really did it,” Ant said, coming in for a hug, his voice carrying that big-brother approval. “Congrats, Lil bro.”

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a solid pat on the back. “How’s Angel and Little Derek?”

He let out a sigh, glancing off for a second. “I tried to get her to come and be with the other families for a couple hours, but I can’t get her away,” he said, his voice softening.

“That’s understandable,” I nodded. I knew Angel’s been glued to Little Derek’s side since everything went down. I couldn’t blame her—if it was my kid in the hospital, you’d have to drag me out with a damn crane.

Ant gave a small nod, his eyes still heavy, but he was here, supporting like always. That’s what we did for each other—held it down, no matter how thick the shit got.

“Ten minutes to show time!” Marcy shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos in my direction.

“Aight y’all, I gotta go get under that stage,” I said as one of the crew started mic’ing me up, clipping the mic pack to my waistband and checking the levels. The weight of the moment settled on my shoulders, but I let it roll off. I thrived in this shit.

I’d skipped rehearsal last night, flying my girl across the country and putting a ring on her finger, but I didn’t half-step it. Got up at the crack of dawn and made everyone else do the same for a last-minute run-through this morning. I wasn’t worried, though. This was a small-scale show on a stage I knew like the back of my hand. Juniper was a cakewalk compared to some of the shit I’ve done.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar pair of hands on my back, sliding around to my chest. I didn’t even need to look to know it was Destiny. She leaned in close, her voice soft and warm against my ear as she stood up on her toes. “I gotta get back out there and make sure the families from the crash are settled up front, and then I’m gonna watch you from there with them, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, turning around and giving her a quick kiss, letting my lips linger just a second longer than I should’ve, feeling her heartbeat against mine.

My eyes searched hers, looking for answers she didn’t even know she needed to give me. But now wasn’t the time.

I squeezed her hand, the warmth of her skin pulling me back into focus for just a second. The chaos around us—people rushing, lights flashing, the hum of anticipation in the air—all of it faded, and it was just her. Her steady touch, her heartbeat syncing up with mine, calming that storm raging inside me. But I couldn’t hold on forever. I had a job to do. So I let go, reluctantly, my fingers brushing against hers one last time as they slipped away.

“I need to see you front and center, Princess,” I said, my voice low, laced with a grin that only she could pull out of me.

She gave me that smile, the one that could knock the wind out of me faster than any crowd. That smile that made me feel like no matter how wild things got, I had a home in her.

“I’ll be there,” she promised, her voice soft.

I leaned in, my lips brushing the curve of her ear, the electricity between us sparking with every breath.

“And that ice cream machine better be up and running when I get off that stage,” I whispered, my words dipping into something darker, something just for her. “Imma need all this adrenaline to go somewhere.”

She laughed, a sound like music, like the kind of melody that stuck in your head long after it ended. Her hands pushed at my chest, playful, but the touch left a mark all the same.

“Get your ass on that stage, Derek,” she said through her giggle. “See you there.”

I watched her walk away, the curve of her back, the way her body moved like it was in rhythm with the heartbeat thumping loud in my chest. My whole world was wrapped up in that woman, and seeing her head toward the stage, knowing she’d be there, made every damn nerve in my body light up.

Showtime was coming up fast. The crowd was already roaring, the air thick with energy. I had to lock in. But as she disappeared into the mass of people, my heart was still pounding like a bass drum, echoing in my chest. She was my anchor, and now I had to go give them all a piece of my soul, knowing that when it was all over, she’d be waiting.

Everyone started filing out of the tent, anticipation and excitement swirling in the air. The chatter grew louder as we moved toward the stage, the energy in the crowd building like a pressure cooker about to blow. I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush settle into my veins, the pre-show jitters that always felt more like fuel than nerves.

“Clear the way,” one of the security guys barked, motioning for me to follow him. They had a path lined out, a direct route to the stage entrance beneath where I’d be coming up. I walked with purpose, the weight of the mic pack pressing against my back, the adrenaline buzzing in my fingertips.

We made it to the spot, tucked just underneath the stage, where I’d be lifted up in a few moments. I could hear the muffled roar of the crowd above, the rumble vibrating through my bones. The lights dimmed, and that only made the crowd louder—a sea of voices chanting my name, calling me to them.

I dropped my head, took a deep breath, and whispered a prayer. "Lord, I ain’t always been perfect, you know that. But I thank you for every step that brought me here, every fight, every fall. For this stage, for these people. Watch over my family, my crew, and give me strength to do what I do. Let my words mean something tonight, let ‘em hit where they need to hit. And protect Destiny, Lord, keep her safe. Amen."

I felt the tension ease just a little, like that prayer had lifted some of the weight off my chest. I opened my eyes, took another deep breath, and rolled my shoulders back.

It was time.

The lift whirred beneath me, gears turning as the stage started to open above. The crowd’s roar was deafening now, shaking the very ground beneath my feet. I adjusted my mic one last time, hands steady, heart ready.

The stage manager gave me a thumbs up, and I could hear the emcee hyping up the crowd, building the tension. “Y’all ready for this?” he shouted, and the response was deafening. “Give it up for the one, the only, Juniper’s own—D-Truth!”

And that’s when the floor under me began to rise, the smooth, mechanical hum of the lift pulling me up to the surface like a king ascending to his throne. The intro to Juelz Santana’s “Mic Drop” looped through the speakers, I’d sampled it on my track, “Juniper’s Son”. The crowd catching the beat immediately, losing their minds as they heard the familiar rhythm. My arms spread wide, open to receive all that energy coming from them—thousands of people moving as one, screaming, their voices crashing over each other like waves on a stormy shore.

I ain’t never seen this many people in Freedom Park in my whole Black life.

The lights exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors—reds, blues, greens—all spinning and flashing like the biggest damn fireworks show you’ve ever seen. Strobes hit like lightning strikes, painting the crowd in blinding flashes, making it look like the whole arena was pulsing in time with the beat. I could feel the bass drop heavy, a deep, bone-rattling vibration that started at my feet and shot straight up through my chest, amplifying the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

The intro track blasted through the speakers, that gritty, unmistakable beat sending the crowd into a frenzy. People jumped up and down, arms reaching out toward the stage like they were trying to grab hold of something real, something they could keep. I fed off that energy, let it flow through me, powering me up like a battery on full charge.

As I broke into the first verse, the crowd erupted, their voices rising to meet mine, word for word, bar for bar. I moved across the stage, commanding every inch of it, feeling the heat of the lights, the sweat rolling down my back, but I didn’t care. I lived for this. The dancers hit their marks perfectly, moving in a rhythm that matched mine, their bodies twisting and turning like living instruments to the music. It was all flowing, everything synced up—the lights, the bass, the crowd.

And right there, in the middle of it all, was Destiny. Her eyes never left me, wide and bright, reflecting every flash of the lights. She looked like she was glowing, her smile stretching wide, her lips moving as she sang along. She was in it, just like I’d always imagined, but better. This wasn’t a mirage anymore. She was right here, for real this time, watching me do what I do, soaking it all in, and it was hitting her like it was hitting me—a full-circle moment.

Her mom and mine stood next to each other, their faces lit up with pride and excitement. Ant was there too, arms crossed, grinning like he always did when he was proud but trying to play it cool. Eden stood beside them, her eyes darting around, taking everything in but never straying far from Destiny’s side.

The families from the crash were scattered through the VIP area, right there in front, their eyes wide with gratitude. Destiny had made sure they had the best spot in the house, and now they were right in the thick of it, a moment of escape, a moment of joy.

Just like any other show, I left it all on that stage—every song, every verse, every hook, every ounce of sweat and breath I had for an hour and a half as I performed hit after hit. But when it came time to introduce the last track, one of the new songs I’d been working on, I knew I had to switch it up. This wasn’t just another hype moment; it was time to speak from the heart, to reach the crowd on a different level.

“Y’all having a good time tonight?” I called out, my voice echoing through the park as I wiped my sweat with a towel, tossing it over to Orlando so I could keep moving, keep working the stage.

The crowd roared back, their voices blending into one massive wave of sound that crashed over me. The energy was thick, electric.

“Aight,” I chuckled, letting the smile stretch across my face as I looked out over them. “This next and final song is brand new. I’ve been working on it since I’ve been back home. It’s inspired by something tragic that happened right here just a few short weeks ago, to some very special people who I hold close in my heart.”

The crowd quieted down, the buzz fading into a hush that spread through the park like a wave pulling back from the shore. The lights dimmed, leaving me in a soft glow, a spotlight cutting through the darkness. I could feel their anticipation, their curiosity hanging in the air. This wasn’t about just another track; this was about connecting, about healing.

I glanced down at the VIP section, catching Destiny’s eyes, and she nodded, her smile soft but knowing. The families from the crash were looking up at me, their faces filled with awe and gratitude. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their hopes on my shoulders. This was for them—for the ones who were still here and the ones who weren’t.

“My Little Man Derek is still in the hospital, still fighting. But he’s gonna pull through ‘cause God makes miracles happen,” I said, my voice catching a bit.

“That’s right!” someone yelled from the crowd, and I felt that wave of support roll back toward me, lifting me up.

I had more to say, but it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest all of a sudden, pressing down hard. The weight of it—the emotion, the love, the pain—all of it came crashing in at once.

“Take your time, D!” someone shouted k, a voice full of warmth, cutting through the sea of faces. I chuckled, trying to keep it together, swallowing that knot in my throat that felt like it might choke me if I let it. My eyes stung, that familiar burn that came when you were trying too hard to keep the emotions at bay.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, buying myself a second. The crowd was a blur, but I could feel their energy, feel the weight of all the years we’d shared hanging in the air between us.

“It’s crazy,” I started, my voice trembling, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “A lot of y’all grew up with me, and know me as somebody that wasn’t so friendly… hated school, didn’t give a damn about grades, and loved to fight. I was a little terror,” I admitted, shaking my head as the words tumbled out, rough and real.

“Sure was!” someone shouted from the side, and a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd like a wave, washing over me, pulling me back into the moment. It was a sound that felt like home, like those memories we all carried of being young, wild, and reckless.

I smiled, the weight of nostalgia mixing with the gravity of standing here, in front of people who had seen me at my worst, my rawest.

“Y’all remember,” I laughed, but it was heavy with something else—regret, maybe, or the realization that I’d come so far from that boy they used to know. The boy who lashed out because he didn’t know how to process the world. The boy who threw fists because he couldn’t find his words.

The crowd settled, their laughter fading into a quiet hum of expectation, and I felt the emotion start to swell again, rising up from deep inside me, threatening to overflow. I took a deep breath, gripping the mic a little tighter, my knuckles turning white. They were waiting for the rest, the part I hadn’t said yet. The part I was still trying to figure out how to say.

“But really, a lot of that anger was me not knowing how to express my feelings in a positive way,” I continued, my voice steadying as I spoke from a place deep inside me. “I had a lot of thoughts in my head that turned into feelings I didn’t know how to control, and it would come out like rage, like anger. There was only one thing that would keep me calm, keep me sane...” I paused, scanning the crowd, searching for the one face I needed to see more than anything.

My eyes found Destiny, and I felt my chest tighten again, but this time it was different. It was love, it was gratitude, it was every damn thing I’d ever wanted right there in front of me.

“And I know she’s gonna kick my ass for this,” I said with a grin that broke through the tears threatening to fall, “but I need her to come on stage with me so I can get through this next part ‘cause I can’t do it without her.”

The crowd started cheering. Destiny’s eyes widened in surprise, but I could see that smile tugging at her lips as I squinted under the lights, that look that said, I’m gonna kill you later, but I love you anyway. She glanced around, half-shocked, half-smiling, as Eden nudged her forward.

“Security, bring my fiancée to me, please,” I commanded, my voice booming through the mic, full of authority.

The crowd erupted, a wave of gasps and cheers crashing over me. It took me a second to realize what I’d just said, and then I caught it—fiancée. Destiny’s mouth flew open in shock, eyes wide, just as Security scooped her up and started making their way toward the stage.

“Oops,” I muttered into the mic, a sheepish grin spreading across my face.

The crowd lost it, laughter rippling through the arena like wildfire.

“She gon’ really beat yo ass now!” my dad yelled from the VIP section, his deep voice carrying over the noise, making the crowd laugh even harder.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s Juniper business, Pops,” I said, turning back to the crowd with a grin. “We gon’ keep that between us, right y’all?”

“Right!” they echoed back, a chorus of loyalty and hometown pride, and I knew they meant it. This was family. All of it. The ups, the downs, the love, the drama—this was our story, and they were here for every chapter.

Destiny tried to look mad, but I could see the sparkle in her eyes, the blush in her cheeks as she made her way unto the stage. She reached me, and I pulled her close, her laughter vibrating through my chest, her presence grounding me like nothing else.

“Juniper,” I started, my voice steady but filled with emotion. “Y’all don’t know what it means to be back here, standing on this stage, looking out at all of you. I grew up in these streets, ran up and down these blocks. I know every corner, every crack in every sidewalk. Y’all made me who I am.”

I glanced over at my parents, their eyes shining with pride, and then at Ant, who was grinning that big-brother grin like he’d seen this coming all along. “My parents are right there,” I said, pointing them out, “and my big brother, Ant. They were the ones who held me down, taught me what it meant to keep pushing, to never give up. And y’all, all of Juniper, helped raise me too, even though I gave y’all hell growing up,” I chuckled, and a wave of laughter rippled through the crowd.

“But I’ve been gone a long time,” I continued, my voice growing softer. “And I ain’t gonna lie, I’ve seen a lot of places, done a lot of things, but there’s nothing like being back home. This place—y’all—remind me who I am, where I come from. It feels damn good to be back. And I promise, I won’t stay away that long again.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, their love wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I felt Destiny squeeze my hand, and I turned to her, the crowd fading away for a moment. “And I’m happy as hell to say I got the love of my life back,” I said, my voice cracking just a little, and the crowd roared even louder.

“I see now what matters most,” I continued, looking out at everyone—my family, my friends, my people. “It’s love, it’s family, it’s Juniper. It’s y’all. Thank you for always holding me down. This song is for y’all,” I said, my voice steady but filled with emotion. “For those who’ve been through it, who’ve lost, and who keep pushing forward. This is ‘Juniper Nights’”

I pulled Destiny in close, her body fitting against mine like we were made for this moment. Her heartbeat thudded against my chest, matching mine, steady and sure. I looked out at the crowd—my people, my roots—and something clicked. This wasn’t just about music. It was about everything that brought me here.

The beat dropped, slow and heavy, pulsing through the stage like a second heartbeat. I could feel it thrumming in my bones, pulling me in. Without thinking, I let the first verse roll off my tongue, raw and unfiltered, like I was speaking directly to every soul in that crowd.

Juniper nights, under them streetlights,
Mama yelling my name, but I’m caught in them fights,
This block raised me, taught me how to survive,
Taught me how to grind, taught me how to stay alive.

I could feel the tension start to roll off me as the words came, like they were already waiting for this moment. My city. My people. They knew this life. They lived it just like I did.

Pops with them calloused hands, working long shifts,
Mama praying hard, holding strong, never slipped,
Ant showing me how to stand tall, never drift,
We weathered every storm, even when the world dipped.

The crowd swayed with the beat, feeling every word like it was their own. I wasn’t just rapping—I was reaching back, pulling memories straight from the heart of Juniper.

This for the streets, where the love runs deep,
Where the pain’s real, but the hope don’t sleep,
For every hard lesson, for the ones we couldn’t keep,
We rise, we fight, we bleed, but never retreat.

I glanced down at the front row—saw the crash families sitting there, tears in their eyes but heads held high. This wasn’t just about me. This was for them. For Little Derek, still fighting in that hospital bed, and for Angel, holding on tighter than anyone should ever have to.

This for my Lil’ man Derek, fighting for his breath,
And Angel, staying strong, walking through the depth,
We gon’ make it out, we gon’ rise, no regrets,
‘Cause in this town, love always beats death.

I could feel the energy shift in the park—like the weight of everything we’d been through was settling on their shoulders too.

Juniper roots, running deep in my veins,
Through the highs and lows, through all the pain,
This city built me up, through sunshine and rain,
Taught me how to rise, taught me how to maintain.

I locked eyes with Destiny as I held her, her tears shining in the stage lights. She was the reason I was still standing, the reason I made it out of the darkest days.

I remember them days, Des, back in them school halls,
You laughed through it all, even when I would fall,
You was my calm, my peace, heard your voice through them walls,
You always kept me straight, you was my last call.

The crowd faded out, just her and me, lost in the moment as I dropped to my knee and held her hand like I did during the proposal, as the memories came flooding back.

We snuck out late, under them Juniper skies,
Shared secrets, shared dreams, tears in our eyes,
Even when I left, that love never died,
Now I’m back home, and I see why.

I looked out over the sea of faces, all of them holding pieces of my past, my struggle. But Destiny? She was the one who had all of me, always had. And now, standing on my feet again, holding her around her waist, I finally felt whole.

It’s love that brought me back, through every trial and test,
With you by my side, that’s when I’m at my best,
In this city where we started, where our souls found rest,
I found my way home, found my way to blessed.

The crowd was silent, not a sound but the beat and my voice, raw, cutting through the night air. And when I finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. People holding each other, swaying, feeling every word like it was their own story.

I saw my mom wiping her face in the front row, my dad nodding along, pride shining through. Ant stood there, head down, feeling every word. And then, it hit me. This was family. This was home.

This is for Juniper, my heart, my pride,
For the ones who stood with me, never left my side,
For the love I found again, where the wildflowers thrive,
This is for you, Des, forever we gon’ ride.

As the final notes faded, the crowd fell into a brief, heavy silence before erupting into cheers and tears. Destiny clung to me, her face buried in my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt. This was Juniper—home, love, and everything real. Holding her tight, I felt the weight of the moment carve itself into us forever as my DJ started the instrumental over.

I glanced out at the crowd—people wiping their eyes, hugging each other. My parents stood front and center, Mama’s hands over her mouth, tears running down her face. Daddy had his arm around her, his eyes shining, and Ant stood beside them, clapping with a look of pure pride.

“Y’all feel that?” I called out into the mic, my voice thick with everything I was feeling. “That’s what it’s all about—family, love, community. That’s Juniper.”

The crowd roared again, their voices a blend of joy and tears. I looked over to the VIP section and nodded. I saw the crash victims—those brave souls who survived that hell Mr. House brought through this park. They were standing there, tears in their eyes, but something else too—hope, maybe. I motioned for them to come up, and one by one, they started to walk onto the stage, their steps slow, filled with meaning.

“Bring ‘em on up,” I said, waving them in. “Come on, come stand with us.”

The audience cheered louder, clapping, whistling, and chanting their names. Destiny’s mom and mine moved to help them up, guiding them with care, and Eden was there too, making sure everyone had a hand to hold.

Then I saw my parents stepping up, and Ant was right there with them. My dad’s arm went around my mom, pulling her in tight. They were followed by Destiny’s parents, who came over and hugged her first, and I couldn’t help but smile through the tears in my eyes. It was all love, and I could feel it wrapping around us like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Destiny turned to face me, her eyes still glistening, and gently cupped my face with both hands.

"You did that," she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

I shook my head, pulling her even closer. "No, we did. This is all of us."

I grabbed the mic one last time, looking out at the sea of faces, my family—both by blood and by circumstance—gathered around me. The weight of everything hit hard, but I spoke from the heart.

"This is what it means to be from Juniper. This is what it means to be family." My voice echoed across the crowd, strong and full of the truth we all shared.

With that, I let the mic drop, and the music swelled one final time—loud, powerful, lifting the crowd with it, like it was carrying every bit of joy and pain we’d all lived through. I wrapped my arms around Destiny, pulling her close, while the families and crash survivors gathered in a circle around us. The air was thick with emotion—tears streaming down faces, but smiles breaking through, shining like sunlight after a heavy storm. It was a moment soaked in everything real—love, resilience, survival.

As I scanned the faces around me, it hit me hard. Just a few months ago, I had put together this plan to perform at the Jubilee just to get close to Destiny again—hoping she'd still feel something for me, praying she'd even speak to me. Now, here I was, weeks after coming back to Juniper, we weren’t just talking; we were engaged. Our families? Bonded, tighter than ever.

I looked over at the crash families—people I barely knew weeks ago, but now they felt like an extension of my bloodline. Eden, who became like a sister, Destiny’s parents, who used to side-eye me like I was some kind of threat, now seeing me for who I really was. And Destiny? More in love with me than I ever could’ve dreamed. Every work gig I missed, every dollar I didn’t make was nothing compared to what I gained up here tonight.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t care. My ass was up on that stage crying as I held my woman, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Not one bit. I was grateful as hell. Grateful for her, for us, for this moment. I looked up at the sky, my chest tight with emotion, and whispered a quiet thank you to God. Then I squeezed Destiny a little tighter, the warmth of her body against mine grounding me as I stood there in the middle of everything I never knew I needed.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The crowd was on their feet, cheering, crying, holding up their phones to capture the moment. But no camera could ever truly capture what we were feeling right then and there. This was bigger than a show, bigger than music—this was healing, this was community, this was home.