“Damn, you two look serious,” Casey calls out, hanging off one of our groupies. “You have a barney or something?”
Mercs furrows his brow. “Barney? Like the dinosaur?”
“No, it’s Aussie for argument. And no, we’re good, right?” I glance up at him.
“Yeah, Effa and I are fine. No purple dinosaurs here,” he replies with a smirk, earning a round of laughs.
Luke and Andi aren’t so convinced.
“Good! Let’s keep it that way,” Luke says. “If Effa’s screwing this up, let me know. I’ll straighten her out.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “Hey! You’re supposed to be onmyside.”
“I’m on the side of the band,” Luke counters. “And you screwing around with the best lighting director we’ve ever had? That concerns me.”
“Luke, whatever Effa and I choose to do…” Mercs steps in, calm but firm. “That’s between us.”
Luke falters, unsure how to respond.
I step in this time. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
The elevator doors open, and I pull Mercs in with me before anyone else can follow. The doors close, sealing us in our own little world.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” Mercs mutters.
I groan. “Luke was out of line. But he’s just trying to protect the band. I get it.”
Mercs nods. “I get it too. Still, we need to talk.”
We walk in silence to my suite. My muscles ache from the show, and my shoulders are now tense. Nerves have taken overbecause if hewants to talk, that means something’s sitting heavy on his chest.
The rest of the crew’s noise echoes down the hallway, but I rush to swipe the keycard and pull Mercs inside before they catch up.
The suite is beautiful—on the top floor, with full views of the glittering city, floor-to-ceiling windows that give us the illusion of floating in the stars. But none of it matters right now. Not with the way Mercs is watching me.
I move to sit on the edge of the coffee table, chewing my lip.
He stands a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze focused entirely on me.
“What are you looking for?” I ask quietly.
He steps closer. “Signs you’re high.”
I stiffen before my jaw clenches. “That’s what this is about?”
“Yeah. I need you to know that there are two things I don’t fuck with… drugs and cheating.” He scans my eyes, probably looking for any signs of red. But I didn’t smoke enough for it to show.
“Effa, I know your upbringing. I know weed’s normal in your world. But I’ve seen what it does. I’ve seen it ruin people. It always leads to more. It kills creativity. It kills people. And I don’t want that for you.” He reaches out and takes my hands.
“I only smoke herbs,” I say, my voice quiet. “Nothing heavier. That’s more Casey’s thing. For me, it’s a habit. A comfort. It helps unlock something creative.”
He rubs his thumbs over my skin, gentle and warm. “Have you tried to create without it?”
I tilt my head, thinking.I’ve always smoked when I write… except for the one time.The song I wrote with Danger. The one that blew us up.
“That one hit that made us famous? We wrote that sober,” I admit with a small laugh.
“Maybe it’s time to try again. No haze, no filter, just you. I’m not here to control you, Effa, but I’llalwaysfight for your health. I won’t sit back and watch.”
