And it’s gonna take every ounce of self-control not to punch his smug face into next week.
Chapter Twenty-Six
MERCS
Effa and I wander through the dim, echoing halls of the PPG Paints Arena, our footsteps a rhythmic beat against the concrete. It’s quiet for now, just the bones of the venue humming in anticipation. A few of the girls are already here, probably scattered around somewhere, and Luke’s got to be on-site by now, along with the rest of the crew.
This place is massive, a labyrinth.
I tighten my grip on Effa’s hand, my thumb brushing hers as we navigate the corridors.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Her head tilts toward me, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
“We should’ve left Ligonier earlier. Gotten here sooner, so you could have more time to settle in. I know how you are, you need to connect with the venue before a show, feel the vibe, breathe it in. You haven’t had the time you usually need, and that’s on me.”
She stops and turns toward me, squeezing my hand. “Stop that. Don’t turn this into a thing. I got time with you, and that’s what matters. I’ll vibe with the venue just fine. But yes, let’s head out to the stage and let me soak it up now.”
Her optimism always floors me. She never lets small stuff rattle her.
That grounded center of hers? It’s magnetic.
We make our way toward the mouth of the stage, walking in step. I’ve only been off tour with them for two days, but damn, I’ve missed this—the rhythm, the buzz, the anticipation that lingers before a show. Being back with the girls, with the crew, with my girl... it fits.
As we round the corner into the main stage area, I spot the rest of the girls in a tight circle with Luke in the center, looking animated as he gestures toward something on a clipboard.
“Oh, Effa, there you are,” Kristy calls, waving her over. “Come here. We’ve got to talk to you about something.”
I glance toward Raoul, who’s already hovering nearby, posted up like the silent, watchful protector he is. I give him a firm nod, and he responds with a slight dip of his chin, already tracking Effa’s every move.
Turning back to her, I tug her hand gently. “Don’t go anywhere without Raoul. Promise me?”
Her lips twitch, and she gives me a mock salute, giggling. “Yes, Mr. Overprotective. You’ll see me after the show.”
I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, letting it linger just long enough to remind her she’smine. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She flashes a smile and spins off toward her bandmates, Raoul seamlessly falling into step beside her. That knot of unease in my gut? It loosens as soon as I see him shadow her path.
Turning on my heel, I head toward the back of the stage. There’s crew to catch up with, and I’ve got a lot of ground to make up. The familiar scent of metal, grease, and stale coffee greets me like an old friend as I reach the rafters, and I spot Tank wrestling with a load of rigging gear. The bastard’s grunting like he’s lifting a damn car.
“Need a hand?” I call out, already moving toward him.
He looks up, a wide grin splitting his face. “Welcome the fuck back, brother. Shit’s been miserable without you here.”
I lift a brow, smirking. “You call threesomes miserable now?”
Tank barks a laugh, readjusting the weight. “Yeah, well… that part wasn’t bad. But Jesus, man, Andi’s mood swings? I can’t keep up. I need some solid bro time. You, me, and Jay. Beer,pool, wings… a testosterone reset. ’Cause I swear, man, I’ve lost my fuckin’ balls.”
I laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “Damn! She’s really got you in a spin. What the hell happened?”
He exhales hard, shaking his head. “I don’t even know. One minute we’re good, the next, she’s out for blood. I am pretty sure I’m on her death list, bro.”
“Someone will straighten her out. She’s probably got shit going on in that wild little head of hers. Best you steer clear till she levels out.”
“Oh, I’m steeringwaaayclear. I’m not getting my nuts stomped on again.”
I stop, eyeing him. “Wait! She actually went for your balls?”
