“Luke, no.” I shift slightly despite the protest in my ribs. “I think I should come back to the tour, just for a short time, so I can get Tank and Jay up to speed with the adjustments I want for the show. Then I’ll go be with Kiera.”
He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure? I mean, you have a broken nose, broken ribs? You really shouldn’t be working. You definitely shouldn’t be up on the rafters.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I say. “I’ll work the boards… Luke. I need to work. I can’t sit around all day waiting for Kiera’s procedure to take effect. It will drive me crazy. I gotta keep busy, and I gotta make sure Effa is okay, too. She needs her daily meds and someone to make sure she’s resting properly.”
That part is non-negotiable.
He exhales sharply. “Fuck… okay. But undernocircumstances are you to leave this hospital until they say it’s safe for you to do so. Then we’ll send someone to bring you to wherever we are. If I notice there are any issues with you, health-wise, I will send you straight home. No questions asked. Understand?”
“Yes, of course. Thanks, Luke… I appreciate it.”
He narrows his eyes slightly. “You don’t like to make my life easy, do you?”
“Now, where would the fun be in that?” A small smirk tugs at my mouth despite everything.
He scoffs and turns, heading for the door. “Rest. That’snota suggestion.” The door swings open, then shuts firmly behind him, and the room feels quieter without his presence.
I ease back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes. The monitor’s beeping fades into the background again.
Seems I have more people in my corner than I gave credit for.
And more to lose than I ever realized.
Two Weeks Later
Luminous’jet picked me up after being discharged from the hospital in New York and flew me to Boston to meet up with the band. The flight felt longer than it should have, mostly because I had too much time to think, and thinking is dangerous when your sister is recovering and your pride is still nursing bruises that morphine can’t touch.
They’re playing at Fenway Stadium tonight, and the cab is taking me directly there from the airport. I’ve already checked in with Effa, and she knows I’m on my way and that I’m ready to come back to work tonight, much to her incredibly vocal disapproval. She tried to argue, tried to convince me to stay back, to give my ribs more time, to let Tank handle everything, but like I said to Luke, I need to keep busy. If I sit around and let my mind wander too far toward Kiera’s recovery, toward what could have happened in that alley, toward what almost was, I’ll drive myself insane.
Work has always been my anchor. It keeps my head straight and keeps the spiraling at bay.
The driver pulls up outside Fenway Park, and I take a steady breath before stepping out of the cab. The late-afternoon air is crisp, carrying that faint scent of hot dogs and beer that stadiums always seem to hold in their bones. The noise from inside filters out in distant echoes.
My ribs flare in protest as soon as I straighten fully, a sharp reminder that I’m not one hundred percent yet. I hobble slightly as I adjust my footing, easing the pressure off my left side. Luke’s already arranged a stool at the lighting board, so I don’t have to climb anything or stand too long. It bruises my ego more than my body, but I’ll take it.
Paying the driver, I make my way slowly toward the entrance. Security stands at the gate, scanning badges and checking lists. They eye me curiously at first, probably because I look like I’ve gone twelve rounds in a cage match, but recognition dawns quickly.
“Welcome back,” one of them mutters, stepping aside.
I nod and head inside, navigating the maze of corridors beneath the stadium. The hum of production is everywhere—crew shouting instructions, roadies hauling cases, the distant thud of a soundcheck bassline vibrating through concrete.
It feels familiar.
Grounding.
After a bit of searching, I locate the girls’ green room, mostly thanks to the chaos spilling out from behind the door and the sound of shouting and laughter echoing down the hall.
Smiling despite the ache in my ribs, I push the door open.
Casey and Andi are at a small table in the center of the room, cards fanned out between them, yelling like they’re in a Vegas high-stakes tournament. Alana is stationed at the buffet, plate already half demolished, as expected. Kristy lounges on the sofa, scrolling through her phone, probably engaging with fans online. Effa stands in the corner speaking quietly with Luke.
A warmth settles deep in my chest as I take it all in.
This.
This chaos.
This noise.
