Maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay.
CHAPTER 25
BACK TO REALITY
MARCUS
The serenityof the Ranch already feels like a fading dream as Tom’s SUV bumps along the gravel road toward the airport. Reality is creeping back in, heavy and unrelenting. The tour is waiting, with all the pressure we’ve been hiding from trailing right behind it. Jax is better—more present and stable than he’s been in months—but his recovery remains fragile, each step uncertain.
I glance over at Lily, her blonde hair catching the soft light from the window as she gazes out at the rolling hills. She looks calm, but I know her mind is racing as much as mine. The Ranch gave us a chance to reconnect, to rebuild the pieces of ourselves we’d been neglecting. But now, life is speeding up again, and I’m not sure any of us are truly ready.
When we pull up to the airstrip, the private plane stands waiting, silent and steady, like a reminder of the chaos it’s about to thrust us back into. There’s no crowd, no flashing cameras—just us, the hum of the engines, and the vast expanse of open sky.
We step out into the crisp morning air, the quiet broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. It feels like the last moment of peace we’ll have for a while. We unload our bags in near silence, each of us lost in our thoughts.
Tom steps forward, his hearty goodbye cutting through the quiet. He claps each of us on the back, his words full of encouragement and warmth. When he gets to Lily, he pulls her into a bear hug, whispering something I can’t quite catch. Whatever he says makes her smile, though, and for a moment, her face lights up the way it did when we first arrived.
As Tom waves us off, Lily lingers, her gaze shifting between the plane and each of us. It’s as if she’s trying to mentally capture the moment, to hold on to this fleeting calm before it slips away completely. Her eyes meet mine briefly, and I see my same flicker of uncertainty reflected back at me.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice low.
She exhales softly, nodding. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I reach out, offering Lily my hand to help her up the steps into the plane. The interior is sleek and muted, the hum of the engines a low, soothing backdrop against the sounds of bags being stowed and seat belts clicking into place. Enzo and Dylan make their way straight to the back, their laughter faint but reassuring as it drifts through the cabin. Jax settles across from me and Lily, his notebook already open, the scratch of his pen filling the quiet.
I try to focus on the rhythmic thrum of the engines, hoping the sound will drown out the thoughts clawing at the edges of my mind. The tour, the band, Jax’s recovery—it’s like an endless weight pressing down, and I can’t tell if I’m ready to carry it.
Lily’s voice pulls me out of my spiral, soft and steady. “Are you okay?”
I glance at her, her hand reaching for mine. “Yeah,” I say, though the word feels hollow. I force a smile. “It just feels fast. Like we were just starting to figure things out, and now we’re diving back in.”
Her eyes meet mine, filled with understanding. She squeezes my hand gently, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “We’ll figure it out. It’s just going to take some time for the band to find its rhythm back on tour,” she says, her voice sure, like a promise she has no doubt she’ll keep.
I nod, her words settling some of the unease building in my chest. But the uncertainty still lingers, a shadow I can’t quite shake.
As the plane taxis down the runway, Lily leans closer, her voice tinged with playful mischief. “Come with me.”
Her tone is impossible to resist, and I follow her down the narrow aisle toward the bathroom at the back of the plane. The door clicks shut behind us, muffling the hum of the engines and enclosing us in a quiet cocoon.
Lily turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “You’ve been so quiet,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing lightly against my chest. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I exhale, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Just… everything. The tour, the band, Jax. It feels like a lot.”
Her hand slips up to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing over my stubble. “We’ll handle it,” she says, her voice steady and sure. “Together. I promise to help, however I can.”
She closes the space between us, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that’s soft and full of unspoken reassurance. I sink into her warmth, letting the weight of my worries melt away as my hands settle on her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
Our breaths mingle in the quiet space, the faint hum of the engines fading into the background. My hands glide down the curve of her back, lifting her effortlessly and settling her against me. She wraps her legs around my waist, her fingers threading through my hair and tugging gently, sending a spark of desire straight down to my dick as the kiss deepens, turning hungrier.
I back her against the wall, the cool surface a contrast to the heat building between us. My hands roam over her body, mapping every curve, every dip, with reverence and intent. Her quiet gasps spur me on. I lift her higher, one arm steadying her while the other works to undo the barriers of clothing between us.
She pulls my hoodie over my head, her hands trailing over the hard lines of my chest, leaving a path of heat in their wake. I respond by tugging her shirt free; the fabric falling away to reveal her soft skin. My lips find the hollow of her neck, trailing down slowly, savoring the way her body arches toward me with every kiss and touch. Her skin is warm beneath my lips, responding to every movement as if we’re in perfect sync.
“Marcus,” she whispers, her voice breathy as her hands grip my shoulders.
I maneuver her carefully in the tight space, twisting our bodies until I’m positioned to slide inside her. My eyes lock onto hers. I thrust slowly at first, loving the way her body responds. Then I pick up the pace, moving in aquick, but steady rhythm. Each thrust is deliberate, not just chasing my own pleasure but guiding her toward hers, our breaths mingling as the moment deepens.
When we finally come together, it’s slow and perfect, each movement perfectly in sync. Her soft moans fill the space, a symphony that drowns out everything else.
