Page 309 of Blackwood

Eric waves a hand. “Not technically. But hey, great trip right?”

Cade mutters, “You said we were flying to Cabo. We landed in the Midwest during a heatwave.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “To be fair, the barbecue was worth it.”

Eric claps his hands. “And the mechanical bull. Don’t forget the mechanical bull, man.”

Cade shoots him a look. “I threw up on that mechanical bull.”

“And yet, you got back on. That’s grit, son.”

Lex just stares. “Nope. I’m not getting on a plane flown by a man who renamed himselfSky Daddyand caused a federal cyber investigation just to impress his Tinder date.”

Eric beams. “She did swipe right.”

Lex crosses his arms. “We’re going to die.”

I smile and lock my arm through his. “But we’ll die with legroom, baby.”

Eric turns to the girls and bows dramatically. “Ladies. Haley Rosethorne in the flesh, sexy as ever. Ellie Whitmore, lovely to see your sassy ass again.”

Eric stares at the mountain of bags being loaded onto the jet. “Damn, how many days are we gone again? Thought we were flying to Dallas, not staging a fashion coup.”

Ellie flips her hair. “You think this level of fabulous fits in a carry-on?”

I raise a brow. “Would you rather we under packed and complained the whole time?”

Eric raises both hands. “Shit, no. Just praying there’s still some fuel left after lifting all this.”

Knox jogs past with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cap. I only brought essentials.”

Eric eyes the gold embroidery on the bag. “Is that sequined lingerie?”

“Stagewear,” Knox says with a wink. “Very essential.”

Cade laughs, stepping around a rolling trunk. “I only brought one bag.”

Lex snorts behind him. “Yeah. And half of it is snacks for her.”

Eric nods at me. “Well, she is the type to kill over a granola bar.”

Lex smirks, pulling his hood down. “Damn right.”

“Alright, psychos. Let’s haul ass before this snow picks up and they shut down our runway. Dallas Love Field waits for no drama queen.”

Chapter 82

CADE

Nationals Day 1 - Dallas, Texas

70 Days Since Henry’s Death

If backstage had a soundtrack, it’d be heavy breathing, rapid Spanish, and the occasional high pitched scream.

“¡Pelo mojado?! ¿Estás bromeando?!” Rico is in full meltdown mode. Which, to be fair, is his default setting, but today it’s nuclear.

Controlled chaos, if you tilt your head and squint hard enough. Glitter dust in the air, curling irons sizzling, and half-dressed dancers darting like stage-trained banshees. Top it all off with Rico screaming in Spanish from atop a folding chair while waving what might’ve once been Haley’s backup costume.