12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Logan
The kitchen smelled like coffee and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon and old wood. It was small, but warm, and right now, it felt like the safest place in the world—because she was here.
Mac moved around the tiny space like she belonged, her hair a mess from sleep, her oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as she poured coffee into mismatched mugs.
I sat at the table, hands wrapped around the one she’d already set in front of me, watching her. Trying to memorize the way she looked in the dim morning light, like I could somehow hold onto this moment, trap it in my chest and keep it there forever.
According to the guys—mostly Chace being a shit-stirrer—we had a couple of days. And while I was content being here with her, for her, I had to get back. The problem was figuring out how to take her with me when she seemed to be doing well here.
I take a long sip from my coffee, the black abyss burning its way down my throat. Bitter but fragrant. Maybe we could talk about it now.
No. Wrong time.
I clench my jaw and push the thought away as Sam, Chace, and Trey lean against the counter, murmuring in low voices. They weren’t acting any different around Mac—treating her like one of the guys, but also like a teacher, a caretaker.
Shit, she should be managing us. Not fuckwit Phil.
We’d lost her once. And even with how hectic things had been these past few months, she was always there, in my head—after every set, during every song. It didn’t matter. None of that mattered.
What mattered was that she was here. Right in front of us.
And I was supposed to walk away. Again.
I take another swig, this time letting the burn sear my tongue.
The door creaks open, yanking me from my thoughts.
Dean steps inside, his sharp green eyes sweeping the kitchen before landing on Mac, his lips twisting into something amused.
“I’m gonna guess… friends of yours?”
Mac smiles, handing him a coffee. “Dean, these are Logan’s bandmates—Sam, Chace, and Trey.”
Dean lifts his mug in greeting, leaning against the doorframe. “The infamous Burnt Ashes,” he muses. “Too early to ask for a selfie? I could get some great attention on my Insta.”
Sam snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Never too early, bro. Been on the road since four because of fucking brains over here.” He jerks a thumb at Chace, who watches him warily.
Dean chuckles, then looks at me, his gaze flattening as if he’s just picked up on my mood.
“Not a morning person? Rockstars, am I right…” he says playfully to Mac.
She lets out a delicate snort.
“We got a couple of days before we gotta get back on tour, so we’re gonna make the most of it!” Sam announces with a frown before downing his coffee in one go. He sighs loudly, then stretches like he just ran a damn marathon.
Dean shifts his attention back to me. “Didn’t think you’d be leaving so soon.”
Something tightens in my chest. I hadn’t planned on it. I needed more time. Just a little more.
Before I can say anything, Trey stretches, tipping his head toward Mac. “Since we’re out of here in a few days, we should go out tonight. Have a drink. All of us.”
Mac’s gaze flicks to mine, waiting for my reaction.
I exhale, scratching at my jaw. “I mean, I won’t say no, but I was just planning on hanging out with Mac. She’s the passenger princess and all that—her call.”
“Logey Bear!?” Trey beams. “I thought I was your passenger princess?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “You wish.”
Sam nudges Mac’s shoulder. “What do you say, Mac? A night out with us before we gotta fuck-off-ski?”
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
She pauses, glancing at each of us, completely ignoring Trey being a dumbass, before her eyes land on me. A soft smile curls her lips.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Fuck yes! Gonna get so shit-faced!” Trey all but sings. Then he turns to Dean. “Hey, Dean, where’s a good place to go in Portland that isn’t packed with hipsters or smells like soybeans?”
“Soybeans?” Sam asks, frowning.
“Yeah, bruh.” Trey leans forward like he’s about to drop some wisdom. “I was wondering why Macabelle ran off to Portland, so between Tinder swipes, I read this article that said Portland exports, like, a fuck ton of soybeans.” He grins at Mac. “So, Macadamia Nut, you got your tofu fix and feel all better now that your baby bro is here?”
“Of course, Trey…” Mac deadpans.
Chace playfully smacks Trey upside the head. “What have I told you about Tinder, bro?”
“Relax, there’s like a few other Trey Bakers on there, so nobody actually believes it’s me. Besides, I’m using Sam’s profile picture.”
“The fuck? Gimme that.”
A scuffle breaks out. I make sure to slide the coffee cups out of the way before one of these idiots knocks something over.
“I swear down, Baker, I’m gonna start pulling piercings out if you do this shit aga—” Sam freezes mid-rant, staring at the phone in his hand. His expression shifts from pissed to what the actual fuck?
“Van Diesel? Van Diesel is your name? And you put professional lookalike as the fucking description?”
“Yeah, man. You’re popular. Keep reading.”
Trey starts inching toward the door, but Chace and I move at the same time, cutting off his escape. We know that look. He’s hiding something.
Sam clears his throat and reads aloud, voice dripping with disbelief.
"I ALWAYS CUM FIRST. IT DOESN’T MATTER BY AN INCH OR A MILE—WINNING IS WINNING."
And there it is.
Fucking Trey.
It was already becoming a thing. A ritual. Just a few trips in, and I’d memorized the route to Patty’s like it was stitched into my bones.
We bundled into the van, the guys crammed in like a pack of overgrown kids, elbows jabbing, music blasting, Trey arguing with Chace over something dumb. The usual. Mac sat shotgun, twisting in her seat to shoot us a look.
“Best behavior, guys. Patty is a sweetheart,” she warns.
They all nod like obedient schoolboys, but I know better. Dragging these idiots into a quiet diner feels more like leading a pack of wolves into a henhouse. Only, after meeting Patty, I’m starting to think we might be the ones at risk.
The second we step through the door, the energy in the room shifts. Conversations die. Heads turn. Forks clatter against plates. The usual hum of chatter and clinking dishes takes a sharp inhale.
Mac snorts under her breath. “Subtle, guys.”
Trey, ever the showman, spreads his arms wide, grinning like we just stepped onto a stage. “What? We can’t help that we’re devastatingly handsome, Mac Attack.”
“Please.” Chace flips his golden hair over his shoulder like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “You’re just riding my coattails.”
Sam shoves him toward the nearest booth. “Shut up and sit down, Goldilocks.”
I chuckle, sliding in next to Mac before one of these idiots tries to steal my spot.
Patty emerges from the kitchen, hands on her hips, her sharp eyes scanning the lot of us. Then her gaze lands on me.
“Mr. Dale,” she says with a knowing smirk. “Back so soon?”
I press a hand to my chest. “What can I say? I can’t imagine eating anywhere else.”
Patty smirks, about to respond when Trey leans forward, draping his tattooed arms over the table. “You know, I’ve got a thing for older women, right?”
Mac not-so-subtly kicks him under the table. He grunts.
Patty winks. “Honey, I’d just eat you up. But I’m spoken for. Right, Si?”
A shadow looms over us. Si, the mountain of a mechanic working on Braden’s car, stands to one side, grease-smudged arms crossed over his chest. He lets out a single grunt.
Trey visibly pales. “I must apologize. I had no idea Portland had grizzly bears.”
Chace stage-whispers, “Should’ve googled it like with the soybeans, man.”
Trey takes a steadying breath, then flashes Patty his best heartbreaker smile. “Mac here talks about you like you walk on water.”
Patty grins. “Only on Tuesdays,” she quips. “The rest of the week, I stick to broomsticks. Right, Logan?”
Her arched brow pins me in place, and suddenly all eyes are on me.
I hold up my hands. “No offense, Patty.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I know that.” She waves me off before pulling out her notepad. “So, what am I getting you all?”
Mac nudges me playfully, and I huff a small laugh, relieved as the attention shifts. The guys place their orders, each throwing in their own brand of charm and flirtation, which Patty handles like a pro. Once she heads to the kitchen, the conversation settles into the easy rhythm of catching up.
Sam leans in, elbows on the table, studying Mac. “So, how long you planning to make us suffer before coming home?”
Mac stiffens, just slightly. I feel it more than see it. Under the table, I nudge her knee with mine, a silent reminder that she’s not alone.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, stirring her straw through her drink. “I haven’t really figured it out yet.”
Trey nudges her playfully. “You do know we’re contractually obligated to be a mess without you, right?”
Mac smirks. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do I do for you guys again?”
Chace grins. “Mac Attack, you keep us grounded. And occasionally keep Logan from throwing punches.”
Mac gives me a pointed look, one brow arched.
I hold up my hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’ve been good.”
Trey snorts. “For now.”
Before I can shoot back, movement from the next booth catches my eye. A group of girls—clutching their phones like lifelines—hesitantly approaches. One of them, maybe eighteen, wide-eyed and shaking, takes a deep breath and speaks first.
“Sorry to interrupt, but… are you Burnt Ashes?”
Chace’s grin is instant, his charm dialed up to eleven. “That depends. Are you here for an autograph or a date? Because Van Diesel over here is in the market.”
Sam groans and lands a solid punch to Chace’s arm. “Dick.”
“Bitch,” Chace groans, rubbing his arm.
The girl giggles, and just like that, the ice is broken. A handful of fans swarm the table, excitement lighting up their faces as we sign napkins, take pictures, and scrawl our names across phone cases. Mac watches with quiet amusement, sipping her drink while we make sure every fan leaves grinning.
As the last one walks away, Trey leans back with a satisfied sigh, shaking his head. “Never gets old.”
Mac rolls her eyes. “You just like the attention.”
Trey shrugs, unbothered. “Of course. Why else would I stand on stage, duh?”
Mac lifts her chin. “Personally, that kind of attention makes me nervous. I’m not great in social situations. I prefer to take mine now in the form of Patty’s brownies.”
As if on cue, Patty returns, sliding a plate stacked high with bacon and eggs in front of me, followed by a tray of brownies that could probably put us all into a sugar coma. I glance up at her, grinning.
“You keep this up, senora Patty, and I’m gonna have to change your status from bruja to diosa.”
Patty smirks. “I see what MacKayla likes in you, rockstar.” Then, without missing a beat, she turns to Chace. “Oh, and don’t do it.”
Chace blinks. “Do what?”
“If you tamper with Trey’s or Sam’s food, I’m gonna be cross. People pay good money here—it’d be a shame to waste any. Or hurt my business. Don’t you think, sugar?”
Chace’s mouth opens, then closes. “But… I didn’t.”
“Nope. But you were thinking it, now weren’t you?” She winks, then turns and walks off like she owns the place—which, let’s be real, she does.
Sam looks downright giddy, shoveling food into his mouth like he’s afraid it’ll disappear. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Across from him, Chace has the same slack-jawed expression that I’m pretty sure Trey and I are wearing.
By the time we step out of Patty’s, the sun has sunk lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air’s cooler now, but there’s still a buzz from lunch. Stomachs full, spirits lighter—it almost feels like old times.
Trey slings an arm around Mac’s shoulders as we walk, grinning down at her. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn us about Patty. That woman is a menace.”
Mac laughs, nudging him in the ribs. “I told you all to behave.”
“Hey, if a beautiful woman wants to flirt with me, who am I to say no?” Trey smirks, then winks. “No matter how many decades separate us.”
Chace snorts. “Right up until her beau folds you like laundry. Did you see his fucking forearms? Trunks, Trey. Trunks.”
The group erupts into laughter while Trey flips Chace off, grumbling under his breath about being “a respectful young man.”
Sam walks ahead, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, shaking his head. “You’re all idiots. She was an angel for sure. Such a sweetie—reminds me of my Gam-Gams.”
Mac grins, jogging ahead to loop an arm through his. “See? Sam gets it.”
He sighs dramatically, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Of course.”
The walk back to the van is slower, the air still buzzing with laughter and stupid inside jokes. It feels like no time has passed at all—like we never spent months apart, like Mac was never missing. Even she seems more at ease, her steps lighter, her laughter coming freely. It’s a damn good sound. One I don’t ever want to go without again.
When we reach the boarding house, Mac pushes open the front door and turns to face us, hands on her hips, wearing that look that says she’s already five steps ahead of us.
“Alright, rockstars, we’re fed and watered. If you’ve got a spare change of clothes, great. If not, we’ll head into town in thirty—I know a few good places, and if not, Clay or Dean will. Then you’ve got a few hours to make yourselves presentable. I don’t want to be seen with a bunch of sweaty guys who smell like, well… guys.”
Chace raises a brow. “That’s rich coming from someone named after a pasta dish.”
Mac flips him off over her shoulder as she heads inside. “Be ready in thirty. We gotta be out of here by seven!”
Trey stretches, his shirt riding up just enough to flash part of the tattoo running along his ribs. “Anyone else need a nap before we do this?”
“Nah,” Sam mutters. “But a shower wouldn’t kill you.”
Trey grins. “You offering to scrub my back?”
Sam doesn’t dignify that with a response—just shoves him toward the stairs.
I linger at the door, watching Mac as she disappears down the hall. There’s something different about her. A shift. Like she’s planning something. Like she’s… happy.
Maybe it’s my imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, we’re finally getting somewhere.
I don’t want this to stop. Not now.
I need to grab some clothes from town, get ready for whatever tonight brings. But there’s one thing I know for sure.
I’m not letting her disappear again.