Chapter Twelve
EFFA
The rock formations behind the amphitheater are huge. It’s not called Stage Rock for nothing. I knew it would be the perfect place to carry out my plan, but I had to get Mercs on board first.
Didn’t expect him to be such a pussy about it.
I giggle to myself as I catch his horrified expression. He’s staring up at the formation as if it might bite him. “Oh, c’mon… it can’t be that hard, can it?”
Mercs shoots me a dry look and raises his brow. “Effa, you’re pretty important. I don’t want you hurt by falling—”
“Then I’ll go first, and you can catch me if I slip,” I reply breezily, brushing past him and gathering my dress up around my hips.
I’ve got ballet flats on, and a little rock climbing never scared me.
Especially not with the stars glowing overhead and the air this electric, knowing that looking up at the sky from this height will be incredible.
“Effa,” he warns, his voice low and gruff. But I ignore it, reaching for the first handhold and slotting my foot into a gap between two stones.
“Shit,” he mutters behind me.
“You’re so tense, Mercs. Live a little,” I tease, flashing him a grin over my shoulder as I hoist myself up onto the first ledge. The rock is cold and gritty beneath my fingers, but I love the texture. It grounds me.
As I start my ascent, a calm washes over me.
The roughness of the stone, the warmth radiating from it, the hum of residual energy from the concert, it all calls to me.
This place has a vibration, and I feel it thrumming in my palms. The rocks here are ancient, holding stories in their texture.
I can feel them, like they’re vibrating hello in a language I almost understand.
And under the stars, with the Colorado air crisp in my lungs and Mercs’ steady presence at my back, I feel more connected than I have in weeks.
This is why I brought Mercs here. Not just for fun, not just to climb, it’s the energy. I wanted to share this feeling with him. The way the world quiets up high, the way you can hear your soul if you only listen.
He doesn’t get it yet, but he will.
Mercs’ hands hover close around my hips like he’s ready to catch me, and for a second, I want to fall so I feel those strong arms around me again. But I’m not ready to be rescued. Not tonight.
I slip my foot into another groove and pull myself higher. The climb isn’t easy, but it suits my frame. I move light and fast, my muscles working, my breath syncing with the rhythm of the earth.
When I’m close to the top, I pause and glance down.
Mercs is below, eyes locked on me, hands raised. He’s ready… just in case. That thought alone sends a soft warmth through my chest.
“See? Not so hard, right?” I call out with a wink. With one final push, I grunt and hoist myself over the ledge with a not-so-feminine “oomph.”
Mercs chuckles from below, shaking his head. “Would it be bad to say that kinda turned me on?” he calls up.
I burst out laughing. “No. You were totally staring at my ass, so that’s a compliment. Now get your butt up here, chicken boy.”
He cracks his neck to the side, rolls his shoulders, and gives me a smirk that’s all reluctant bravado. From what I’ve seen, Mercs is a tough guy in most situations, but seeing him a little cautious over a rock climb? It’s honestly cute.
“I’m coming,” he mutters, grabbing the rock face with both hands.
I lean over the edge, watching his hand placements, ready to help if he needs it.
His muscles flex as he pulls himself up—biceps bulging, forearms taut.
Damn. I smirk, taking in the way his T-shirt clings to his shoulders and arms. The grit and control he shows in every movement make me realize just how built this man is.
He climbs with focus, eyes locked in, his footing precise, hands finding the right holds like it’s second nature. For someone who’s never done this before, he’s handling it like a pro.
“Watching your arms flex like that is a massive turn-on,” I call out, purely for encouragement, and maybe to fluster him a little.
It works.
His foot slips.
“Shit!” I gasp, my heart lurching as he drops slightly, but then catches himself, placing his foot back into a sturdy groove with calm precision.
“It’s all good,” he assures, glancing up with a confident smile.
I exhale, my hands pressed to my chest like that will slow my racing heart. Mercs climbs the rest of the way with ease, hauling himself over the edge and collapsing onto his back with a breathless chuckle.
I don’t hesitate dropping straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, and burying my face in his chest. He laughs softly, holding me close as we lie together in silence with nothing but the sounds of the night and our breathing between us.
Mercs gently brushes his hand through my hair, then tilts my chin up, planting a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. “That was a little crazy,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Yeah,” I reply, chuckling softly. “Thinking about it now… maybe it was.”
He gazes past me, up at the night sky, and exhales. “But this view? Worth it.”
I turn, looking up at a galaxy of stars that greets us. An endless stretch of sparkling pinpricks across the inky sky. No light pollution, no chaos, just us and the universe.
A smile curves across my lips. “This is why I wanted to come up here,” I whisper. “For this. I wanted to feel close to the heavens… with you.” I sit up beside him, still holding onto his warmth.
He follows, pulling me back into his side with an arm around my shoulders. We sit together, our eyes skyward.
“It’s beautiful, Effa. Worth the headache of getting up here,” he says. “Being this close to you feels amazing.”
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Well, damn… that was sweet. Have I turned you all soft?”
He snorts. “Nah. Beer, boobs, football, grunts, belches, and shit,” he replies in a mock-manly voice.
I laugh so hard I nearly topple over. “You’re all class, with a sexy ass.”
That gets a real laugh from him, warm and rich, and it vibrates through my chest like a melody. Then he quiets, his gaze drifting upward again. “I think that star right there,” he says, pointing. “That really bright one next to the moon… I think that should be our star.”
I follow his finger to the glowing light in the sky. It shines like a beacon, incredibly close but in reality impossibly far.
“It shines as brightly as you,” he says, his voice lower now. “And no matter where we are in the world, no matter what we’re doing, we can look at that star and remember this night. Know we’re connected, even if we’re a world apart.”
My breath catches.
That’s the kind of thing people say in songs, not in real life.
But Mercs?
He just made it real.
My smile fades, and I glance over at him, releasing a quiet sigh. My heart lurches into my throat because I know exactly what he’s thinking. He doesn’t have to say the words.
Even if this—we—become something real while we’re on tour, what happens when it ends? When the music stops, when the adrenaline fades, when we’re no longer living on borrowed time?
Maybe this is all we get. Now.
And if that’s true, I need to make every second count.
I loop my arm around his knee, needing to feel tethered to something solid. To him. We sit here, side by side, held together by silence, by starlight, by the aching reality hanging between us.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, and I melt into it.
It’s such a small gesture, but it feels like a vow.
I close my eyes, breathing in the stillness, the magic of this place, the warmth of his body beside mine. This moment is perfect, and I want to live in it for just a little longer.
Before the world catches up.
Before reality reminds us that even the brightest stars eventually burn out.
Before we fall from this heaven we’ve climbed into…
And crash back to earth.
***
We’re packed into a stretch pink Hummer, heading back into Denver.
Mercs is riding with us, along with Tank and a handful of the crew. There are about twenty of us crammed in, bodies and voices everywhere, the energy still buzzing from the show.
I’m perched beside Mercs, smoke curling around us as I enjoy my usual after-show joint. He’s watching me, his brows pulled tight as he sits in my haze.
He leans in close, his voice low. “Do you do that after every show?”
I turn my head, blow the last puff away from him, and nod. “Helps me unwind. I kinda grew up on the stuff.”
He nods but shifts away slightly, that edge of tension in his jaw returning, which is so different from how relaxed he was back on the rocks.
I frown, stubbing out what’s left in the ashtray and taking a sip of my Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade.
The sweet-berry tang cuts through the moment, but not enough to ease the tension.
Maybe it’s too much for him—the weed, the chaos, the way I roll through life with whatever feels right. I’ve never needed it. It’s just a habit now—a ritual.
I glance over at Mercs, offering a small smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah, long day.”
I reach out, resting my hand on his knee. “Stay in my room tonight?” I whisper, low enough that only he hears me over the laughter and chatter echoing through the Hummer.
He covers my hand with his own and nods before I thread our fingers together.
The Hummer pulls into the hotel’s underground garage, and I sigh, grateful for the privacy that’s coming.
Raoul opens the door, and the crowd explodes out like champagne from a shaken bottle. I slip out just ahead of Mercs, and together we filter through the staff entrance and into the lobby with the others.
Butterflies stir in my stomach, not from the weed, but from the shift in energy.
Something’s off…
Off with Mercs.
Off with me.
We head toward the elevators in a flurry of noise and laughter. Everyone’s loud, loose, and happy.
Except us.
“Damn, you two look serious,” Casey calls out, hanging off one of our groupies. “You have a barney or something?”
Mercs furrows his brow. “Barney? Like the dinosaur?”