Mik breaks the silence first. I envy his certainty, the way he can speak about the future like it’s already written.
“I’m staying put,” he says, his hand finding Tyler’s. “Kay needs stability, and I need…” He glances at Tyler, a smile softening his features. “Well, I need this.”
The weight of everyone’s eyes shifts to me, and I fight the urge to squirm. My calloused fingers find a loose thread on my jeans, worrying it as I speak. “The farm needs me full-time now. Dad’s health isn’t great, and I can’t keep splitting myself between two worlds.”
Fox nods slowly, his amber-brown eyes thoughtful. “Taking time to figure things out isn’t a bad thing,” he says, still methodically organizing his food. “We’ve been running full-tilt for decades.”
“I’ve got some production offers,” Stone adds, but his voice lacks its usual swagger. “Studios in LA, Nashville. Nothing concrete yet.”
Nikko’s anxiety radiates off him in waves as he sets his phone down. His fingers drum against his thigh. “And what exactly happens to a tour manager when there’s no tour to manage?”
The question hangs there, sharp and uncertain. I watch his features tighten, see the way Fox subtly shifts closer to his brother. Years of reading each other’s cues makes the undercurrent of panic impossible to miss.
“Look,” I start, “this will take some time to get used to. We should see it as an opportunity to evaluate what we want for our future, not just as a band, but as individuals. The farm will always be home to all of you.” I turn to Tyler. “That includes you too, Ty.”
Relief softens Stone’s shoulders while excitement brightens his eyes. He’s always loved the farm’s recording studio. Fox’s expression remains carefully neutral, but I catch the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth.
But it’s Nikko who leans forward, his anxiety finding a new focus. “What exactly would I do there? Tour managing is my thing. Are you suggesting I go into farming?”
“You manage logistics better than anyone I know,” I say, meeting his worried gaze. “A farm is just a different kind of tour. Feeding schedules instead of sound checks, equipment maintenance instead of guitar tech. The skills translate.”
If he could throw daggers with his eyes, I’d be dead, so I raise my hands to clarify. “I’m only joking, but if you want to keep busy while you figure out what’s next, I can help you with that. Or maybe another band?”
“And what about our identities?” Nikko presses. “We’ve been Hall of Fame for so long. Who are we without that?”
The question hits closer to home than I want to admit. I’ve been asking myself the same thing every time I look in the mirror lately, seeing the growing silver in my hair and wondering if I’m more Bastian Hall, the rock star, or Sebastian, the farmer’s son. The answer changes depending on the day.
Kay reappears from the kitchen carrying an armload of snacks that would make a nutritionist weep. Chips, cookies, candy bars, and what looks like enough sugar to fuel a small concert. She dumps her haul on the coffee table with the satisfaction of someone who’s just solved world hunger. “Thought you guys might want dessert,” she announces cheerfully.
A collective groan rises from the room. Stone clutches his perfectly flat stomach with theatrical horror. “Do you know what processed sugar does to a man my age?” he mutters, but his hand is already reaching for a cookie.
Fox shakes his head disapprovingly while simultaneously muttering about how many extra miles he’ll need to run tomorrow, yet somehow, a bag of gummy bears finds its way onto his lap.
Even Nikko, who usually supplies the band with healthier snacks to prevent sugar crashes, perks up at Kay’s junk food selection. “Finally, someone who understands proper snack distribution.” He grins, already reaching for a bag of chips. “And before anyone says anything about my choices, I’m still on the right side of forty, my metabolism can handle it.”
Stone gives him the finger while Fox pushes his brother off the couch.
We’re all getting older, all more conscious of what our bodies can and can’t handle, but none of us can resist Kay’s offerings. Some things never change. We’re still just a bunch of guys who can’t say no to junk food and good company.
Eventually, everyone drifts away to the guest rooms, leaving Mik and me alone. We start gathering empty containers of food and half-eaten bags of chips to take them to the kitchen. I don’t need to see the way he glances at me to know he has something to say.
“Okay, let it out,” I say, nudging him with my elbow as we cross the threshold into the kitchen.
He makes me wait until he’s put everything away and then leans against the counter, crossing his arms.
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
I lean against the sturdy oak kitchen table. One that is clearly meant to have a big family around it, just like the one at my parents’ farm. “I’ve only ever been sure of one thing: music. But that was before I was away from home for months on end. Before I started missing calving season, or hearing that someone else was naming the calves. Why do you ask? Are you having a change of heart?”
Mik shakes his head. “Not at all. I need this. Kay needs this. But I do feel guilty that my wanting to settle down has forced this change on everyone.”
“Maybe we all need it, but just haven’t had a good enough reason to do it. If we’d given it a couple more winters, I would be the one doing it. Dad’s health isn’t what it used to be.”
Mik nods his understanding. When we started, we were four kids filled with dreams and zero responsibilities, five when Nikko came to work with us. Since Kay was born, I’ve known we were on borrowed time. If we’re honest with ourselves, Mik settling in one place to give Kay a chance at a normal life probably should have happened long before now.
“So,” he says, his tone deliberately casual, “what about the farmer next door?”
The question catches me off guard. “What about him?”
