Page 42

NINETEEN

W atching our group of friends come back together like this heals something in me that broke the second Mick’s lips pressed to mine.

Not all of it. That sense of wrongness still wraps around me like a second skin, but it definitely helps ease some of the tension that’s been lingering in my shoulders.

Right after we all file onto the tour bus with Rafa and Ev bringing up the rear, it hits me: this was our home.

Has been for the last eight months. We loved here, cried here, lived here.

This bus has carried our dreams and our heartbreaks.

It’s seen us at our best and at our worst. It gave me joy.

It also gave me sadness and solitude. And now we’re parked in the very last spot of the tour.

The place where this whole chapter finally ends.

But at this moment? It’s pure, beautiful mayhem. And somehow, it’s never felt more right than it does now.

Ava immediately launches herself onto Tuck’s broad back as he approaches Asher, who’s lounging on the couch, her laughter carefree as she clings to him like a pink koala.

Miles sneaks past them, pulls Asher up, and they crash into each other for a hug, all backslaps and crooked smiles, like no time has passed at all.

Within seconds, they’re deep in some heated debate about the latest game they’re both obsessed with, completely locked in their own little gamer bubble.

And Lam… he just stares at Missy, who’s perched on the breakfast nook table, bare feet dangling. Hesitant smiles stretch across both their faces, the awkwardness so palpable you could slice it. They haven’t seen each other in months, and yeah, I know Missy’s in a good place now, but still…

Then, at the exact same time, Lamar mutters a low “fuck this,” just as Missy blurts out, “I’m so sorry.”

That’s all it takes.

He closes the space between them in two long strides, dragging her into a hug so tight he lifts her clean off the table.

He mumbles an “I’m so proud of you,” and she lets out a very un-Missy sob, arms flying around his shoulders as she buries her face in his neck.

That sob feels like it holds everything, every apology, every unspoken word, every I’m sorry for hurting you and I hope you’re okay she couldn’t bring herself to say until now.

Ty’s arm snakes around my shoulders from where we’re leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at them. They stay like that for a long beat, until she suddenly yelps, slapping at his shoulders in a panic until he finally lets her go and steps back.

“What the hell, Lam! Why is your hoodie twitching?!”

With a sheepish grin, Lamar peels back his front pocket to reveal a fuzzy little nose poking out like it’s part of the show.

“Look how cute he is,” he says proudly, gently pulling out Meatball and holding him up like some kind of squeaky prize. “Lookie here, little buddy. That could’ve been your mommy.”

Missy snorts and punches him in the shoulder. “You brought a rodent to a rock concert?”

“He’s a guinea pig, thank you very much,” Lam replies, mock offended. “And I got him little earmuffs for the sound, but they keep falling off.”

He holds up the world’s tiniest pair of fluffy muffs as Meatball wiggles in his palm, trying to break free.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Etsy,” he deadpans, and I can’t help but notice that the long-time teammates all let out similar chuckles.

Meanwhile, Rafa just stands at the entrance, gawking at all of them like he’s stumbled into some kind of fever dream. Mouth wide open, totally starstruck.

Ev shoots him a look, and mutters, “You’re catching flies,” before shoving Rafa’s jaw shut with a grunt.

My grin is unstoppable. God, I’ve missed this. This ridiculous, amazing group. I kind of bailed on my friends the other night, ditched them without a word, left them standing there with worry in their eyes while I got the fuck out of there.

And I don’t regret it.

Not really.

Because I couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, couldn’t wrap my mind around what had been done to me. The violation didn’t just sit with me, it branded me. Left something scorched on my skin and in my chest that I didn’t have the words for.

And I needed out. Out, out, out .

But now, here, leaning into Tyler’s steady side as Lam crawls across the floor after the finally escaped Meatball, I’m starting to feel like me again.

Or at least… a version of me that’s slowly being put back together.

Yesterday, just being with Tyler… laughing with him, holding him, having him, letting his unwavering presence ground me in a way nothing else ever could…

it started something. Stitched the places together I didn’t even realize had split apart.

He didn’t push. Didn’t force. He just was . And that was all I needed.

We’re not there yet. I’m not there yet. Ty’s not there yet. But I will be, and I’ll make damn sure he gets there, too. It’s gonna take time. And the beautiful thing is, time is something we’re actually gonna have after all this.

I’m well the fuck aware that the whole deportation bullshit is still hanging over our heads. And yeah, even thinking about it spikes my anxiety like you wouldn’t believe. but I’ve decided to trust my dad. Mostly.

I could never count on him growing up. Still don’t fully get why he showed back up in my life last year, why he helped me deal with my old band’s mess, helped me get this new one off the ground, and then just… stuck around.

He calls, keeps calling. We talk. Yeah, but it’s mostly surface-level stuff. About the band. About the day-to-day grind.

I want to ask more. I want to ask why. But somewhere deep down, I’m scared of the answer. So I’ve been doing what I apparently excel at, ignoring the hell out of it and hoping it’ll just blow over.

I know it’s not healthy. I know I need to deal with it.

With him. Sooner rather than later. I’ve told Ty that, too.

But ever since Dad reappeared, my life’s been a whirlwind of ups, downs, and more ups.

I just haven’t had the headspace to unpack it all.

But I will. I promise myself that. I’ll talk to him.

I need some kind of closure before I can truly believe he’s sticking around for real.

And I deserve that. Goddammit , I deserve that. He’s the only real family I have, and I want to know if we can be that, in one way or the other.

I glance around at my loud, chaotic mess of a found family and feel it settle something in me like a warm hug.

Yeah, if everything with my dad fails, I know I have them as well.

Tyler chuckles beside me as Lamar lets out a panicked swear when Meatball disappears through the open bunk door, his tiny feet tip-tap-tapping across the floor like he owns the place.

And for the first time in the past eight months, the ache in my chest doesn’t feel like it’s trying to hollow me out. It just feels… full.

Unfortunately, we kind of cut it close since there was a lot of traffic, and the next few hours are a chaos of fittings, makeup, and a quick rehearsal of the mash-up we’re doing with Six of Hearts. Sans Mick.

He’s nowhere to be found.

Not in the fenced-off parking area where crew members mill around. Not in the dressing rooms. Not even in the wings when we’re about to launch into our set.

I fucking love it. Of course I do. My stomach’s been in knots the whole damn day, wrecked by the thought of seeing him again. Not just because of what he did to me, or how I’d react, because I’m riled up enough that I know I’d do something. But I’m afraid of how Ty would react.

He’s my warm, gentle soul. But the fire in his eyes when I told him what happened?

That blaze hasn’t left since. That’s Quarterback Ty.

That’s Ty who’s cool, focused, composed.

The Ty with a drive the size of a damn stadium, who doesn’t just play to win the game, he expects to annihilate it.

The Ty who backs his team, what he believes in, no matter the stakes. And right now, that team is me.

But so far, so good.

At least Mick’s not fucking with my head right before I have to go on. And since this is the last one, the last show of the tour, I want to make it a good one. Scratch that, I want to make it fucking unforgettable.

When our cue comes and I step onto that stage, the music wraps around me like a second skin.

It envelops me, seeps into my bones, right down to my very core.

I close my eyes and let it take me, consume me like it always does.

Let it burn away the anger and the sorrow.

Let it push out every last ounce of shame and rage and wrong that’s been clinging to me like fucking velcro.

Music is freedom.

Music is healing.

Music is mine .

And tonight? Tonight, I bring the goddamn house down. We bring the goddamn house down.

I don’t know if it’s some big ass fuck you to Mick, to the label, to every asshole who tried to control us, silence us, shape us into something we’re not. Or if it’s the fact that our friends are in the wings, cheering us on, grins wide, eyes excited.

Or maybe it’s Tyler. His steady presence is like a tether that keeps me elevated. The magic that is him is feeding mine, lifting me without even trying.

But shit, whatever it is… We’ve never played like this before.

Not this fierce. Not this free. Not this fucking alive .

I know we’re good. Hell, there’s a reason we’re at the top of the charts.

I’m no fool, and I’ve got enough fucking confidence to own that fact.

I don’t consider it arrogance when it’s the cold, hard truth.

But something’s different tonight. Every tone lands.

Every harmony tightens at exactly the right spot.

We put soul in it. Survival . This isn’t just a set, it’s a fight, us proving to the damn label, to ourselves.

That we’re ready. That what’s coming, that when we’re out there on our own, it’s going to be bigger, louder, ours .