Page 73 of What They Say

Yeah. This was home.

Epilogue

Chase – 15 years later

Chase Mason sucked in a deep breath of springtime air, catching the sweet hints of lilacs blooming along the river only a couple of blocks away. He shifted on the hard metal patio chair, already regretting the choice after ten minutes—his ass was going numb. Across the small table sat a chattering teenaged girl with wide, expressive eyes and a smile that came fast and furious before fading into an exaggerated eye roll.

Dolly Jane Mason, fourteen going on thirty, had declared that she’d missed him “desperately” the moment he’d picked her up from the house. She said it like her love was bigger and louder than her older brothers’ combined, and Chase couldn’t help but believe her.

“Hey,” he called out to the waitress as she headed back inside with an empty tray. “Excuse me. Can I get another beer?”

She nodded, collected his empty bottle, and disappeared. Chase turned back to his sister, grinning.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Dolly demanded, arms crossed.

“Only everything, squirt.” He leaned forwards, elbows on the table. “Good grades, taking care of Mom and Dad, questionable friends who talk you into even more questionable adventures...sounds like you’ve got it goin’ on.”

On cue, she executed another dramatic eye roll, huffing out a breath. “I didn’t say anything about Mom and Dad.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t not say anything about them either.” He reached out and used a single fingertip to slide her lemonade closer. “How are the ’rents? I haven’t talked to Dad in a while.”

Dolly’s smile faltered. She chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. “He took back over the RWMC. Which means he’s super busy again. Mom’s good, though. Still just as kooky as ever—painting weird abstract stuff in the garage and making Dad eat kale smoothies.”

Chase chuckled. “I bet she is. She’s always been a little different in the best way.” The waitress returned with his fresh beer. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the young woman said, then paused. “Actually, this one’s covered.”

Chase raised an eyebrow. “Covered? Who bought me a beer?”

She gestured towards the wall of windows behind him. “Guy at the corner four-top. No name, sorry. He just paid and said to keep them coming if you wanted.”

Chase twisted in his chair, hooking his fingers into the metal frame to get a better look. The sun’s glare on the glass made it hard to see inside—mostly reflections and vague shapes. He cupped a hand around his eyes, squinting.

At the corner table, a man was already pushing to his feet. Dark salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, a well-worn leather vest swirling around him as he turned towards the exit. For just a second, their eyes met through the glass. Chase’s breath caught.

Mason.

His father gave the faintest nod—barely there—then picked up his beer and walked over.

Chase sat frozen for a long moment, the cold bottle forgotten in his hand. Fifteen years. Countless tours, albums, sold-out shows, a life built on his own terms. That meant he didn’t spend a lot of time in his father’s orbit, but their relationship was still rock solid.

Dolly tilted her head, studying him. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Chase let out a slow breath and turned back to his little sister, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Not a ghost. It’s just Dad. He’s on his way out now.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? He’s going to come out?”

“Yep.” Chase took a long pull from the bottle, the cold bitterness grounding him. “About one minute from touchdown.”

“Chase.” The spoken name crossed the distance between them with warmth and a little amusement built in. “Didn’t know you were in town, son.” His hand landed on Chase’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“We’re doing supper for the kids at home. I think Kath told Willa about it. Y’all are invited if you don’t have anything else going on.” He reached up and patted his dad’s hand.

Dolly jumped up and ran around to wrap her arms around their father’s waist. “Hi hi, Daddio.”

Mason laughed, curling an arm around her shoulders. “Hi hi yourself, kiddo.”

Chase remembered when he was more “kiddo” than “son,” more “son” than “Chase.” It had taken a lot of work, but they’d managed to end up on the other side.