Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vic
The room was quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional creak of the old bedframe.
Vic moved slowly above Bonnie, every thrust deep and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the way she felt around him.
Her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, her hands sliding up his back, nails grazing just enough to send sparks down his spine.
Their eyes stayed locked the entire time—no rush, no games, just the two of them, stripped down to nothing but truth.
He could feel her everywhere. Not just her body—her soul.
The way she opened for him, trusted him, and met him stroke for stroke like they’d been made for this exact rhythm.
When she came, it was with his name on her lips and her heart in her eyes, and Vic followed right after, burying his face in her neck as the pleasure crashed through him like a perfect, endless fill.
They stayed tangled together afterward, sweat cooling on their skin, hearts gradually slowing. Vic brushed damp hair back from her face, pressing soft kisses along her jaw.
“I love you,” he whispered against her skin. “Every damn part of you.”
Bonnie’s fingers traced lazy circles on his shoulder. She was quiet for a long moment, then said softly, “I used to think forever was something other people got. But lying here with you...it doesn’t feel so impossible anymore.”
Vic’s heart swelled so much it almost hurt. He smiled against her neck, then rolled to the side, reaching into the nightstand drawer. His fingers closed around the small velvet-covered box he’d been carrying for weeks.
He turned back to her and placed it gently in her hand.
Bonnie’s eyes widened as she realized what it was.
***
Bonnie
Bonnie stared at the small velvet box in her palm, her heart suddenly hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
She’d been extra careful for so long—building walls, keeping things light, protecting the music and the life she’d fought tooth and nail to create. Love was dangerous. Love meant giving someone the power to break you.
But here he was.
Vic Montrose—steady, fierce, patient, and so damn good it sometimes took her breath away—lying beside her with love written all over his face.
She opened the box with trembling fingers.
The ring was simple but perfect—a beautiful vintage-style band with a sparkling center stone that caught the low lamplight like it had been waiting just for her.
“Bunny,” Vic said softly, voice rough with emotion. “I know we’ve had our timing issues. I know you’re scared. But I’m not. I want you. All of you. The fire, the fight, the late nights, the music, the mornings. I want forever with you. Marry me.”
Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at him.
“I didn’t think I’d ever want this,” she whispered. “Didn’t think I could let myself need someone this much. But you...you make me want everything. You make the music better. You make me better. I love you, Vic. So much it scares me and thrills me at the same time. Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Vic’s face lit up with a grin so wide and joyful it made her laugh through her tears. He slid the ring onto her finger, then pulled her into his arms, kissing her like he never wanted to stop.
“I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “Forever.”
“Forever,” she echoed, holding him tight.
She hadn’t been looking for her forever.
But somehow, against all her rules and all her fears, she’d found it anyway.
And she was never letting go.
***
Vic
Hours later, when the house had gone quiet, Vic slipped into the garage studio alone.
He sat behind the kit under the single light, picked up the sticks, and played.
Not for a crowd.
Not to prove anything.
Just for himself.
The rhythm flowed out of him—powerful, graceful, free. It carried every piece of his past and every hope for his future. The sound filled the garage, steady and strong, like a heartbeat.
Grace in motion.
Vic smiled in the dark, eyes closed, sticks moving like they were always meant to.
He was home.
Occupy Yourself had a future—new songs, new tours, new challenges waiting on the horizon.
But tonight, in this quiet moment, Vic Montrose had everything he’d ever needed.
And he was finally ready for whatever came next.
***
Bonnie
Bonnie lay curled against Vic on her couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, their legs entwined. The ring on her finger caught the afternoon light every time she moved her hand, sending little sparks across the room. It still didn’t feel entirely real.
She was engaged.
To Vic Montrose.
And she was stupidly, terrifyingly, completely in love with him.
She’d spent so many years convincing herself that love was a trap. That it was something that made smart women weak and left them picking up the pieces when the man inevitably walked away. But Vic hadn’t walked. He’d stayed. He’d waited. He’d loved her even when she made it hard.
Now she couldn’t stop smiling.
“I should call my mom,” she said suddenly, the words slipping out before she could overthink them.
Vic shifted so he could see her face. “Yeah?”
Bonnie nodded, nerves fluttering in her stomach. “She doesn’t know about any of this. The label deal with Iron Indian, the collaboration with OY, the tour support that actually makes sense...or that I’m getting married.” She let out a shaky laugh. “She’s probably going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
Vic brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “You want me there when you call?”
“Video call,” she corrected. “And yes. I want her to meet you. Even if she freaks out.”
He smiled, that steady, warm smile that always made her feel safe. “Then let’s do it.”
They sat up on the couch. Bonnie opened the video app on her phone with trembling fingers. She stared at her mom’s contact for a long moment, thumb hovering.
Vic leaned in and kissed her temple. “She loves you. It’ll be fine.”
Bonnie hit Call before she could chicken out.
It rang twice.
Then the screen lit up.
Her mother’s face appeared—Donna Dupont, hair still the same warm brown Bonnie remembered, though threaded with more silver now. She looked surprised, then pleased.
“Bonnie Rae? Is everything okay, honey? You never call on video.”
“Hi, Mom.” Bonnie’s voice came out a little higher than usual. “Yeah, everything’s good...really good, actually. I wanted you to meet someone.”
She tilted the phone so Vic came into frame. He flashed that easy, charming rock-star smile—the one that had probably gotten him out of trouble more times than she wanted to know—and lifted a hand in greeting.
“Hi, Mrs. Dupont. I’m Vic Montrose. It’s really nice to meet you.”
Donna’s eyebrows shot up. She leaned closer to her screen, studying him. “Well, hello. You’re the drummer Bonnie’s mentioned a time or two.”
Vic’s smile widened. “Guilty. Though I’m hoping she’s only told you the good parts.”
Bonnie watched, half amazed, half terrified, as her mother, the woman who had spent years warning her about musicians, actually smiled back.
“You’ve got a kind face,” Donna said. “And you look at my daughter like she hung the moon. That counts for something.”
Vic’s ears went a little pink. “She kind of did. At least for me.”
Bonnie felt her heart do a slow, melting roll in her chest. She leaned into Vic’s side as she told her mother everything about the Iron Indian Records deal, the coordinated touring schedule that meant she didn’t have to choose between her band and OY, the way Vic had become her safe place in the middle of all the chaos.
And finally, the biggest piece.
“We’re getting married, Mom.”
The words hung in the air. Bonnie held her breath.
Donna was quiet for a long moment, eyes glistening. Then she let out a soft, watery laugh.
“Oh, Bonnie. My wild girl finally found someone who can keep up with her.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart. Really happy. Send me pictures of that ring, and you two better come visit soon. I want to meet this young man properly.”
They talked for a few more minutes, Donna asking questions and Vic answering with that easy charm, before saying goodbye. When the call ended, Bonnie dropped the phone onto the couch and let out a long, shaky breath.
Vic grinned at her. “See? Not so scary.”
Bonnie laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep in her chest. “Oh, baby, you have no idea. She was on her best behavior today.”
Vic tackled her gently back onto the couch, hovering over her on his elbows. His fingers tangled in her hair as he looked down at her, eyes soft and full of love.
“So that’s Mom, huh?”
“Yeah,” Bonnie said, reaching up to trace his jaw. “That’s her.”
Vic laughed, low and warm. “Are you a lot like your mom?”
Bonnie thought about it for a minute, really thought about it. The stubbornness. The loyalty. The wild heart that refused to be tamed. The way she loved fiercely once she let herself.
“So much like her,” she admitted, smiling. “Stubborn, loyal, wild, and crazy.”
Vic’s eyes darkened with affection. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world.
“Well, crazy lady,” he murmured against her lips, “I’m here for all of that.”
Then his mouth moved to her neck, warm and insistent. Bonnie arched against him with a soft sigh, fingers sliding into his hair as heat pooled low in her belly.
She smiled when his fingers unfastened her jeans, leaning back, arching up, and finally, finally letting go.