Page 164

The band’s about to leave, and the house is filled with tension and hope and that bittersweet ache that comes from loving something and having to let it go for a little while.

I glance at the photos on the fridge—Reese and Thorin at last year’s Christmas party, Carson with Eli on his shoulders, Benji with flour in his hair and a baby bottle in each hand. We’ve been through hell and back, but we’re still a family.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself breathe.

We’re gonna be okay.

Even if Thorin’s heart is breaking upstairs.

Even if we’re all terrified.

Even if the world doesn’t stop spinning just because we wish it would.

We’re gonna be okay.

Thorin walks into the kitchen just as Alex appears in the doorway, windblown and muttering something about the tour bus being parked at the bottom of the hill. His voice barely registers over the swell of movement around me—Carson grabbing the last of the gear, Benji cramming an energy drink into his backpack, Fletch clipping the twins into their car seats with the same care he tunes his guitar strings.

Maggie lifts Eli into her arms like she’s done it a thousand times, brushing a kiss to Thorin’s cheek. “You take care of yourself, baby,” she says, voice wobbling despite the iron in her spine. “We’ll hold things down here.”

Thorin nods, jaw clenched tight, but it’s his eyes that give him away. Red-rimmed, raw, like he’s been fighting a war inside himself and losing. He barely speaks. Just holds on to her a moment too long, then turns away like looking back might break him.

Fletch sets the car seats down beside the front door and crosses back to me in three long strides. “I packed their diaper bag with extra everything,” he murmurs, hands framing my waist, his forehead tipping toward mine. “Maggie’s got them. You just worry about Reese. And maybe get some sleep.”

I nod, because if I speak, I might cry again.

Then he presses a kiss to my forehead like it’s sacred. One to my cheek like it’s a promise. And when his lips find mine, it’s slow, aching, and unbearably soft—like we’ve only just gotten good at loving each other and now we have to pause.

“You’ll call me?” I ask, voice embarrassingly shaky.

“I’ll call. I’ll text. I’ll send smoke signals if I have to,” he says, brushing the backs of his fingers over my jaw. “I’m flying home with Thorin on his off weeks. I already told Alex.”

My breath catches. “You are?”

“No way I’m going that long without seeing you. Or the boys.” His smile is crooked, but his eyes are steady. “You’re it for me, Mya. There’s no one else.”

I don’t mean to cry. But the tears slip out anyway, fat and traitorous. Fletch wipes them with his thumb before they can fall far.

The others begin shuffling outside, boots crunching against the gravel, the echo of voices blending with the hiss of the waiting tour bus. Carson tosses an arm around Benji’s shoulders and makes a joke that I don’t catch. Thorin says something low to Alex and disappears through the door like a ghost still caught between worlds.

Fletch squeezes my waist once more, his voice rough now. “I’ve gotta go.”

I nod, blinking fast. “I love you.”

His eyes darken. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Say it louder next time,” he whispers, grinning despite the storm behind his eyes. “So everyone fucking hears you.”

Then he’s gone. And I’m left standing in the doorway with the twins sleeping in their carriers, Maggie humming softly to Eli in the kitchen, and a heart that’s both heavier and lighter than it’s ever been.

I head back upstairs to Reese’s room, where the door is cracked open just enough to catch the sound of her favorite playlist playing low on her phone. The moment I push it open, she turns her head, and despite everything—despite the pain, the grief, the hollowing that must still ache somewhere in her chest—her whole face lights up.

“Are those my Godsons?” she whispers, eyes glistening as she pushes herself to sit up straighter.

“They are,” I say softly, padding into the room.

Maggie pops her head in a moment later. “I’m going to get Eli down for bed, girls. Try to get some rest.” She glances at Reese with that warm, mother-hen affection that makes my chest tighten. “You need it.”