Before cancer.
My chest tightens.
I swallow hard, blink a few times, and reach for my berry water.
Note to self: buy some damn beer.
I miss home.
But, even here, sitting alone in a hollow stadium, I feel something close to peace.
Life on the road is raw, unpredictable, and free. No small-town cages. No judgmental stares. Just movement, sound, and purpose.
Still, I wish Kiera could be here.
I know she would love it.
Being a big brother turned legal guardian at eighteen wasn’t part of my life plan. But when Mom died of cancer, and Dad had disappeared years earlier, I had no choice. Kiera was eleven. Gran stepped in where she could, helping with the bills, keeping food on the table, but raising Kiera? That fell on me.
Gran helped me find a light tech certification course that’d pay off. It got me work. Got me on the road. Got me here.
It kept things afloat.
But it also meant leaving them behind.
Ligonier’s a small town where gossip is a morning ritual. And for a while there, I was the headline. Finding my girlfriend, my childhood sweetheart, in the back seat of my own car with my best friend? Yeah, that shit blew up fast.
So when The Living Dead offered me a touring gig, I didn’t hesitate.
Leaving was easy.
Leaving Kiera wasn’t.
Now I’ve got four months ahead of me on the road withLuminous. A long stretch, but worth it.
If everything goes well, I’ll finally have enough saved to help cover Kiera’s procedure.
That’s the goal.
That’s theonlything that matters.
EFFA
The party’s in full swing.
The bass thumping so hard the walls feel like they’re breathing. I can’t hear myself think as I down another mouthful of vodka and cranberry, the tart bitterness making me grin as it cools my throat.
Casey’s doing her usual—wasting her night on groupies and roadies. The woman’s a wild child through and through. Shebends over, snorting a line off the bare chest of one of our groupies, Sebastian, who we picked up on our last Denmark tour, and he’s been tagging along ever since.
Our groupies? All male.
Think of what female groupies are to male bands. That’s what our boys are for us. They love the music, love us, and we, well… we appreciate their services.
Casey flops back into her seat, wiping her nose, before Benny leans in and kisses herhard. Meanwhile, Sebastian is still lying shirtless on the table, glittery with cocaine. I shake my head, a small, bemused chuckle slipping out.
Then I spot Tank walking in, and my gaze instinctively shifts, searching.
If Tank’s here, that means the crew’s done.
