Cherry is at the folding table with her clipboard and her death stare, already barking about load-out, travel times, and the nightmare that is Boston traffic.
“Ross.” She points the pen at me like she might stab me with it. “Don’t disappear. I need you for a quick sponsor photo.”
I grunt. “I’m right here.”
Mikey slings an arm around my shoulders, sweaty and annoying. “You hear that, guys? Dean’s right here.”
Hayden lifts his coffee like a toast. “Miracles.”
Luc snorts. “Don’t jinx it.”
Mikey leans in closer, voice dropping like he’s about to confess a crime. “You look like you caught yourself some feelings and don’t hate yourself for it.”
I elbow him hard enough to make him cough. “Shut up.”
He wheezes. “That’s not a denial.”
“Go flirt with a stagehand,” I grunt out.
“I already did. She told me no.” Mikey’s grin turns feral. “I need to flirt harder.”
Hayden shakes his head. “Your therapist deserves a raise.”
Cherry’s eyes flick up from her clipboard. “Your therapist deserves a medal.”
The banter is normal. Loud. Familiar. The kind of thing we’ve always done to keep the pressure from crushing us. But underneath it, there’s a shift. It’s subtle, but I can feel it in the way Luc’s gaze lingers on me for half a second longer than usual. In the way Hayden’s eyes narrow like he’s noticing the world moved one inch and he wants to know why. Mikey just straight-up watches me like I’m a reality show.
I don’t ask them what they’re thinking. Because I already know. They know. Maybe not the details. Not the exact moment or the exact words. But they’re not blind. They’ve been watching me orbit Sadie for weeks like I didn’t understand gravity.
Mikey nudges me again. “Where’s camera girl?”
I don’t answer fast enough.
Luc’s mouth twitches, and he glances past me toward the corridor. Like he already knows. Hayden’s voice is calm when he says, “She’s around.”
I nod like that’s the end of it. It isn’t.
Cherry snaps her clipboard shut. “Okay. Sponsor pic in five. Mikey, stop spilling tequila on my laminate. Luc…” Her eyes soften just a fraction. “You good?”
Luc’s hand flexes around his phone like he’s resisting the urge to check it. “Yeah.”
I feel that familiar flare in my chest again; anger that isn’t mine but still burns. The suits. The narrative. The way they want to brand a man’s happiness like it’s a liability.
Luc catches me looking at him and gives me the faintest shake of his head. Not a warning. A reminder. Don’t carry this for me. I exhale through my nose.
Then Mikey’s voice cuts in. “Hey, Dean.”
“What?”
He points with his chin toward the corridor. “She’s looking for you.”
My heart kicks once, and way harder than it should. I look. I can’t not look when it comes to her. Sadie stands at the edge of the green room like she’s deciding whether to enter. She’s not nervous. Not shy. Just aware. Like she doesn’t want to interrupt the band’s orbit.
Our eyes meet again. Something in my chest goes quiet. I push off the wall and walk to her without thinking too hard about it. She waits until I’m close enough that her voice doesn’t have to carry.
“You good?” she asks.
“Yep.”
