Page 10 of What They Say

Chase managed a small nod. The words didn’t fix everything, but they eased something in his chest. They picked up their guitars again and kept playing, the music saying what words couldn’t.

***

Chase found himself back in Bear’s garage, the steady clank of tools the only thing keeping his mind from spinning out again. Benny would be in rehab for weeks still, and no visitors yet, the doctors said. The silence in the clubhouse had felt heavier than usual.

The side door creaked open. Vic stepped inside, drumsticks tapping restlessly against his thigh. The new drummer looked a little lost, like he wasn’t sure if he belonged here now that Benny was gone.

“Hey,” Chase said, lifting his chin in greeting. He set down the wrench he’d been holding. “You wanna jam a little?”

Vic shrugged, but there was a tired honesty in the movement. “Figured I’d see if Bear needed help with anything. News flash, he doesn’t. I don’t know. Just didn’t feel like sitting alone in the guest room staring at the wall.”

Chase understood that feeling all too well.

They worked side by side for a while—Vic helping him strip old grips off some handlebars—before the conversation started flowing easier.

“So,” Vic said eventually, wiping his hands on a rag, “you were tight with Benny, right?”

Chase nodded, throat trying to close around his words. “Yeah. He’s the reason I started coming around here more. Taught me a lot on the guitar. Made this place feel less like...I don’t know. Less like I was just Mason’s kid.”

Vic gave a low chuckle. “I get that. When I first got the call to fill in, I thought it was gonna be permanent. Then Benny went down, and now everything’s gone sideways. It’s all up in the air.” He paused, eyes distant. “Benita and Danny packed up and bailed pretty fast after Mitty and I got the gear secured. Left in a real huff too. Like we’d stolen something instead of keeping it from disappearing.”

Chase shook his head, anger flickering through him. “They didn’t even stick around to see if he was gonna make it. Just grabbed what they could and ran.”

“Yeah,” Vic said quietly. “Felt pretty shitty watching that van pull out. But Mitty and I weren’t about to let Benny’s stuff get sold off or lost. That gear’s part of him, you know? It’s that way with musicians.”

Chase looked over at Vic, really seeing him for the first time. The guy wasn’t just some session drummer filling a chair. He had loyalty. Quiet, steady loyalty, the kind that showed up when things got hard instead of cutting and running.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chase said. “Most people would’ve bounced with the rest of them.”

Vic tapped one of the drumsticks against his palm, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Music’s the only thing that’s never let me down. Figured I owed it to Benny—and the rest of you—to at least try and hold things together until he gets back.”

Chase felt something ease in his chest. For the first time since the ambulance drove away, the band didn’t feel like it was falling apart. Not completely.

“Wanna play?” Chase asked, nodding towards the acoustic leaning in the corner.

“Yeah,” Vic said, sounding surprised at his own agreement. “Playing sounds pretty damn good right about now.”

“Grab it,” Chase said, surprising himself as well. “I’ve got a couple riffs I’ve been messing with. Might sound better with someone else on it.”

Vic hesitated only a second before picking up the guitar. They spent the next hour trading ideas, layering chords over rhythms, talking about what the band could sound like when Benny came back stronger. No pressure. No expectations. Just music.

By the time Bear wandered in and told them to clean up for dinner, Chase realized he was smiling for the first time in days.

Vic might not have been Benny, but he was solid. Real. And right now, that was exactly what Chase needed.

***

Kath

A few days later, Kath stood in Emy’s cramped bedroom surrounded by half-packed boxes and the chaotic evidence of a life about to change. Clothes spilled from open drawers, books were stacked in precarious towers, and Emy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to zip a suitcase that refused to cooperate.

“Help me sit on this thing,” Emy groaned, laughing as she bounced on the lid. “I swear I didn’t own this much crap when I moved in.”

Kath dropped onto the suitcase beside her, adding her weight until the zipper finally gave in with a triumphant zzzip. They both collapsed backwards onto the floor in a fit of giggles, shoulder to shoulder like always.

The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet. Kath stared at the ceiling, the familiar crack that looked like a lightning bolt suddenly feeling too permanent.

“You’re really leaving,” she said softly.