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Carson lifts a brow. “You mean besides the fact that we’re all in sweatpants trying not to fall asleep midlife crisis-style?”
Thorin doesn’t even look up. “Speak for yourself. Some of us are married.”
Reese smirks, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Damn right we are.”
Fletch slides a glance my way, his thumb brushing lazily over my hand. “Guess I’m the only one catching up.”
My heart skips. “Catching up?”
His voice dips, quiet and rough. “Just saying… don’t be surprised if there’s a ring involved soon.”
Carson groans dramatically. “Okay, and on that note, I’d like to formally announce I’m the fun single friend with commitment issues and a Spotify playlist titled Songs To Cry To In The Shower.”
Benji raises his water bottle. “Cheers to emotionally unavailable anthems.”
We all laugh, but the warmth lingers—real and rooted and just beginning to bloom.
Benji cracks one open, then blinks at us. “Okay, so I’ve got an idea.”
“Here we go,” Carson groans.
“No, listen,” Benji says, sitting up straighter. “We’ve spent years under someone else’s label. Someone else’s brand. Their deadlines. Their pressure. If we’re doing this—our label, our rules—it has to be about more than just signing people we like. It has to mean something.”
Fletch nods. “Like what?”
“Like people who’ve been overlooked. People with talent but no team. Artists with edge. With stories. With bite.”
“Underdogs,” I murmur.
All eyes swing to me.
I swallow and sit up a little straighter. “That’s what you guys were, right? Before the label? Before the sold-out stadiums and magazine spreads? You were just a bunch of guys writing songs in a garage in Horseshoe Bay.”
Carson nods slowly. “And we couldn’t get anyone to listen.”
“Exactly,” I say. “So build something that makes room for the people no one listens to. Make it about raw talent. Honesty. Storytelling. People who don’t fit the mold.”
Benji’s already nodding. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”
Fletch glances over at me, eyes dark and soft. “God, I love you.”
Thorin clears his throat. “Okay, so… name ideas?”
“I vote for Dust & Fire,” Carson offers, grinning. “Symbolism, baby. We built everything from ashes. Might as well own it.”
“That’s… actually not terrible,” Fletch says, like it physically pains him to admit it.
Reese nudges Thorin. “What about something in memory of Melissa and Ryan?”
A hush falls.
Benji shifts forward. “They gave us our first shot. Put a roof over our heads. Fed us when we had twenty bucks between us.”
Thorin’s voice is rough when he speaks. “Let’s name the studio after them. The first building we open. The heart of the label.”
Mya’s chest pinches as the moment settles over the room.
Carson raises his water bottle. “To Dust & Fire. And to Melissa and Ryan. The reason we had a chance.”
