Moving On

By late December, Stan had finalized our release and touring schedule for 2013. A House of Cards was set to drop January 18th, with Chasing Ghosts following on May 24th. We’d hit the same local circuit as last spring from March to May—but we were cut from Heavy Tulsa. Stan was still pissed about how that tour ended.

From late June through August, we were booked to tour with X-Mass. All arena shows.

Outside of EoT, I was working with my guidance counselor and teachers to either graduate early or test out with the GED after junior year. The public school system wasn’t exactly flexible about credit requirements, but ranking in the 99th percentile got me a seat at the table. I wasn’t expecting a diploma—but I didn’t have to decide until September.

Listening to the final masters felt surreal. Our setlist for the local shows was locked: A House of Cards, Icarus, Hate Me, Little Lies, Darker Days, and Chasing Ghosts. Rehearsals ran smoothly from January through February.

The band dynamic had shifted. Everything was business now. Scott, Kenny, and Jim weren’t juggling school or rent, so they finally had space to breathe.

My relationship with Courtney had drifted back toward normal. There was still distance—and the question of whether she’d be our chaperone again. As tour season crept up, I brought it up over lunch.

“So,” I asked, “you excited for the next EoT run?”

Courtney didn’t look up. “Maybe. I’ll probably go to a couple shows a week. But I’m not doing the whole thing again.”

“Does that mean I get to babysit this time?” Maggie asked, smirking.

“No one’s stopping you,” I said.

“It’s not even that fun,” Courtney added, half-pouting. “Only reason I want to go is to hear the new stuff.”

“Already a fan?” I teased.

“It’s not that.” She folded her arms. “A House of Cards is great, but Scott won’t let me hear the others until tour.”

“Yeah, Kenny wouldn’t play them for me either.”

“No one’s heard Hate Me yet, if it makes you feel better.”

Courtney narrowed her eyes. “So someone’s heard Chasing Ghosts? Let me guess—Skye?”

“Yeah,” I said. No sense pretending.

Her mouth curled. “Why is your girlfriend so important?”

“Careful,” Maggie cut in. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“I didn’t play it for her because she’s my girlfriend,” I said. “That’s not why.”

She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press.

“You’ll hear it when it drops in May,” I added. Might as well prep her. She’d read the writing credit anyway—Skye Largent and Wes Reau.

Her pout deepened.

“Told you,” Maggie said, biting into her sandwich. “Now you’ve gone and tanked your own mood.”

“I liked it better when you and Skye were nice to me,” Courtney muttered.

I didn’t respond. My expression stiffened. I still didn’t know if she’d told anyone what happened in October. Scott definitely didn’t know. But Maggie?

“Wes—she doesn’t know,” Courtney said, eyes steady. “But I can tell her. If you want.”

Yep. Still the same Courtney.

“I can tell you why Skye heard the song,” I said. “But I warned you.”

Maggie scowled. She didn’t enjoy being used as leverage.

“Is it just a good song to hook up to?” Courtney asked, half-serious, half-taunting.

“No,” I said flatly. “If that was the reason, I wouldn’t be shy about it.”

I exhaled. Time to be done with the conversation.

“She’s heard the song because she wrote it with me.”

Courtney blinked. Nothing changed in her expression—like her brain had short-circuited.

“Wow!” Maggie said. “I read some of her poems last year—they were incredible. Now I really want to hear it.”

“It’s a special song,” I said. “I worked myself to death to build music that could carry her words.”

“Does she like it?”

“Probably not. When something’s that personal, it’s hard to enjoy.”

Maggie tilted her head. “Funny—Kenny says the same thing about his stuff. You two are way more alike than you think.”

“Are we?” I asked, surprised. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it—but yeah. We are.”

“I don’t have the brain for making abstract ideas real,” she said, half-laughing. “But I love watching other people do it.”

Courtney was still sitting quietly, her gaze far away.

“What about you?” Maggie nudged her. “Do you ever try to make anything? Like, when Scott’s practicing?”

“No,” Courtney said, slowly. “I’m okay just observing.”

The lunch bell rang. No one said anything else.

We went our separate ways.

***

Our first show since July was going to be a challenge. Social media influencers and music blogs were preying on our downfall after the summer tour imploded. Headlines about drug use and infighting dominated the internet. I felt bad for the headliner that night—a sold-out crowd of 5,000 was ravenous to devour their opening act.

We collaborated with Stan and Doug on a new intro package for 2013. The song would switch to Toys in the Attic, paired with a stylized montage of our Heavy Tulsa set. The goal was to showcase the growth of the band—or whatever you’d call this resurrection.

Courtney, Maggie, and Skye stood stage-side this time. I appreciated Courtney for teaching the other two not to talk to us before we went on. It wasn’t about focus—we were just on edge and didn’t want to take it out on them.

The dressing room was silent. Doug and Stan came in and out, giving us space to lock in. I was surprised Stan showed up in person, but it made sense after how the last tour ended.

Five minutes to curtain.

We walked the narrow hallway toward the stage. Jim peeled off first, slipping into the dark and taking his seat behind the kit. I grabbed the Firebird instead of my usual Les Paul. I wasn’t superstitious, but maybe it was time to leave that version of me behind.

Then the speakers erupted—Aerosmith again, but sharper now. Our new video package lit up the venue, and this time, it actually felt like we weren’t just some kids who got lucky.

The live debut of A House of Cards was hot. We didn’t rely on any gimmicks, we just played the song with our usual energy and coordinated stage positioning. Scott’s energy was matching mine, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice—his improvement was obvious.

Icarus worked perfectly as a follow-up. The crowd was into it now. The band that limped to the finish line in September was dead and gone.

“Alright Boston, we’re Embers of Twilight and this song isn’t coming out until the summer, so you’re hearing something fresh. This is called Hate Me.”

Kenny’s bass thundered through the venue alongside Jim’s double kicks. This was way heavier than anything we’d ever played before—in the vein of Painkiller era Judas Priest. The crowd wasn’t sure at first, but once the chorus hit with a nasty riff, they were sold… We were versatile.

We used Little Lies as a transition. We cut the intro guitar solo to make it feel like a more natural continuation from Hate Me. Scott and Kenny were unbelievable. This song was always the high point in our set before—the crowd reacted appropriately. I played the ending guitar solo with more somber tones and phrases than usual to slow the pace into Darker Days.

Scott chose not to introduce it—just letting Kenny play us in. This rendition was more vibrant from Scott than usual. His voice was more hopeful as we pushed through the song, before becoming more dissonant and dreadful before the guitar solo. I didn’t have the same emptiness in the solo as before—but it worked, the crowd didn’t notice.

“We have one more song for you tonight—it’s coming out on May 24th… I hope you love it as much as I do. This is Chasing Ghosts.”

I hit the ominous intro riff—a big shift from our usual fare. The song’s tempo was only a touch faster than Darker Days, but the chords were denser and longer. Scott’s voice tormented the crowd in the verse. The chorus saw the guitar’s syncopation change from wholes and halves to eigths—the entire vibe feeling faster. Scott’s voice was soaring with dread—it was exquisite.

I hit the guitar solo. This was the only part I’d written that I ever loved. I ended up with my foot on the monitor, controlling the crowd with a violet spotlight cast on me. All I could think about was Skye. The bends were what I wanted them to be—my love and my empathy conveyed.

“We are Embers of Twilight, we love you. Good night.”

We walked off stage together. The stage lights were beating down. After everything, this was the one place where we were still ourselves.

***

Returning to the dressing room, the tension was gone. Skye rushed up to me, arms wide.

“Skye, wait—I’m drenched—” Too late.

She wrapped herself around me. “You were incredible. I love you.”

“Aren’t you bothered by the sweat?”

She pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

Fair point.

Maggie was more practical—she let Kenny wipe down first before hugging him.

“Chasing Ghosts is everything you said it would be, Wes,” Maggie said.

“Was there ever a doubt?” Scott grinned.

“Honestly? Yeah,” Courtney added, forcing a smile. “Once I heard Skye wrote on it, I got nervous.”

“Really?” Jim cut in. “I was excited to try something Wes didn’t write. No offense, man.”

“None taken,” I said. “I get it.”

“I’m just glad you guys liked it,” Skye said quietly. “I didn’t think it would actually make it into the set.”

Courtney didn’t reply—just crossed her arms, clearly annoyed the song landed harder than she expected. Especially now that it was our closer.

Stan appeared at the doorway, breaking the tension. “Good to see you finally figured it out.”

“Thanks,” Scott replied.

“That was better than your Heavy Tulsa set. I’m impressed.”

Real praise—from Stan. That was rare.

“Keep this up through the X-Mass tour,” he added, “and it’ll unlock every door you’re looking for.”

He slipped out without waiting for a reply.

I was glad Skye was there. Her presence made it easy to tune out Courtney’s judgment. I was excited to go home, praise her, and reward her.