A sob-like laugh spills out of me as I swipe tears off my face. “Trauma’s very on-brand for us.”
Kenna sends me a wink, her expression soft.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, huh?” Rock cuts in, surveying the space. “I was this close to assuming you’d joined a doomsday cult, bro. Figured we’d find you with a beard down to your balls and a manifesto about government satellites in the well water.”
Chase chuckles, shaking his head, still looking blindsided.
Grinning, Rock points to the ceiling. “I swear I saw a drone circling the driveway. Probably the feds tracking your Spotify plays.”
“Could’ve been the bear,” Zach deadpans.
I gasp. “You saw the bear?”
“That thing looked like it pays property taxes.”
More laughter fills the room, cracked and wet and beautiful. It echoes through the walls of this little house like music. Like forgiveness. Like home.
Chase slips his hand into mine and squeezes.
When I look at him, I see the man I fell in love with. Still worn, still healing,but not alone.
Not anymore.
Because they’re here. We’re all here.
And whatever comes next—surgery, recovery, more tears—we won’t be facing it in silence.
We’ll face it together.
As friends.
As a band.
As a family.
Chapter 60Chase
Colors and shapes blur together as I haul an acoustic onto my lap and let muscle memory take over. Tag sits beside me, strumming familiar chords, humming melodies under his breath.
It feels like nothing’s changed—which is a goddamn lie.
Everything’s changed.
My body, my brain, the way the world slips in and out of focus like it’s deciding whether I deserve to see it. But this moment still lives in the bubble of who we used to be.
Luckily, my headaches have become manageable after finally getting on a new prescription called Dexamethasone. The pressure’s eased, the sharp edges dulled. The relief is real.
But so is the countdown.
Tag doesn’t say anything about the tremor in my hand, or the way I pause too long between transitions, waiting for my eyes to catch up. He just plays. Syncs with me like he always has.
We land on a chord progression we haven’t touched in over a year, andsuddenly he’s grinning, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he mutters. “This takes me back.”
I smile. “To that rooftop in Baltimore?”
“Shit, yes.That was the night those girls tried to climb the fire escape to get onstage.”
“They made it halfway.”
