Chapter Sixteen
MERCS
Five Weeks Later
Effa and I are at State Farm Arena in Georgia, and as usual, I’m here before anyone else.
It’s kind of our thing, something nostalgic, it’s how we first met, after all.
Now that we’re in couple mode, and have been for the past five weeks, this early time together has become something we cherish—a little slice of quiet before the chaos.
We’ve spent the last few hours wandering the venue, watching the gear arrive, and soaking in the space.
Effa’s always attuned to her surroundings.
I used to think all her energy-reading and grounding stuff was a bit strange, but watching her connect with the vibe of each new venue has become something I look forward to.
It’s freeing, in a way.
Watching her just be.
Now we’re sitting on the edge of the stage, sipping berry water, staring out over the empty stadium. It’s peaceful, easy, and comfortable. Everything with this woman just works.
She turns to me, eyes bright. “Do you think we could try ramping up the lasers tonight when we perform “Electro-charge?” Might punch the vibe up a notch.”
I tilt my head. “Hmm…” I consider. “What about this, instead of lasers throughout the build, we go full strobe-frenzy during Kristy’s percussion solo? You know, sync it perfectly with the beat. Hit the crowd with something intense.”
Her smile widens. “See, this is why you’re the lighting director. You’re brilliant.” Her voice lowers with playful intent. “Keep that up, and you’ll be rewarded.”
Something is glimmering in her eyes—something promising.
“Oh yeah?” I lean in and brush my lips over hers, soft at first. Then my hand threads into her hair, tugging gently as I take control, deepening the kiss until—
“Ahem.”
Someone clears their throat behind us, and Effa giggles against my mouth as I smirk against hers.
“Seriously, do you two ever stop?” Jett scoffs, stomping across the stage like a petulant kid. It’s been five weeks of him acting like this, pouting, brooding, and lurking, and it’s getting on my last fucking nerve.
I pull back from Effa.
She winces, then rolls her eyes.
My skin crawls anytime Jett’s around. The way he watches her, talks to her when I’m not around? It grates on every last nerve. I know the ass is into her. I know he’s bitter that I got there first. But enough already.
He can have anyone.
So why her?
Because she’s unattainable.
That’s what it is.
The goddamn chase.
Some men are addicted to the idea of something they can’t have.
“What are you even doing here, Jett?” I grunt, my voice sharper than intended.
Effa glances at me over her water bottle as she takes a sip.
He shoots me a glare while winding a guitar cable around his arm. “For your information… Mercury…” he sneers my name, “… I’m here checking out the arena. The Atlanta Hawks play here, and I think that’s cool.”
I snort. “Since when are you into basketball?”
Effa’s hand rests on my knee, grounding me with that one simple touch.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mercs,” Jett says, his tone shifting. There’s an edge to his voice, like a warning. He sets the cable down and walks to the edge of the stage, pausing beside Effa. “Full house tonight,” he mutters.
She nods. “Twenty-one thousand. I love a full crowd.”
Then he turns to me, smirking. “Can’t imagine you care about size, cupcake. Unless we’re talking ego.” He chuckles. “Because I know there’s not much going on in your pants... if you know what I mean.”
Effa has seen me naked more times than I can count. The guy can try all he wants, but he’s just making himself look pathetic.
“Why do you have to be so mean?” Effa asks gently, her voice all soft concern.
I wrap an arm around her carefully and kiss her temple, so I can watch Jett’s jaw tighten.
“Because, Eff,” I say casually. “He’s jealous. He hates that I have you, and he doesn’t. So now he’s trying to prove something. It’s textbook shit. But it won’t work.”
She smiles up at me, and that alone is enough to make it worth saying.
But Jett’s not done.
He shifts his weight. “If you ever change your mind, cupcake, you know where to find me.” His tone darkens.
“But just so you know, Mercs has been calling another woman behind your back. Tells her he loves her all the time. Some girl in Ligonier. That’s why I’m like this, asshole.
Because I care about Effa, and you’re using her.
Hurting someone else who’s waiting for you back home.
” Then he turns away, leaving one final word hanging in the air like a hammer. “Shame.”
Effa’s gaze jerks to mine, her eyes wide, shimmering like she’s seconds from crying.
Shit.
I grab her shoulders, turning her to face me fully. “Effa… listen to me. I’m not calling a girlfriend. I don’t have one back home or anywhere other than right here,” I say firmly. “But I am calling a girl. Two, actually… my gran and Kiera. I tell Kiera I love her all the time.”
Her breath releases in a rush, her whole body sagging in relief as she closes her eyes tight.
“Fuck…” she whispers, then lunges into my arms. “I can’t believe I even let myself think Jett was telling the truth.
” She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
“But hearing you say you love your sister… that’s honestly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. ”
I tighten my arms around her. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not that guy.”
Her big eyes lock onto mine, soft with emotion. “I know. I mean… I knew that.”
“He heard me say ‘I love Kiera’ and ran with it. Didn’t know who she was, didn’t ask. Just decided he needed to play hero. I can’t stand him, but he thought he was protecting you.”
“See, he’s not that bad.” Effa giggles through the tension.
I raise an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you’d find something good to say about a venomous spider. But that jackass needs to back off. And now, I have an idea.”
She tilts her head. “Oh?”
I take her hand, “Come on,” and I lead her toward the crew room. She follows, giggling as we weave through the mostly empty stadium.
“Should I be nervous?” she teases.
“Nah… maybe,” I reply with a smirk.
In the crew room, I grab my backpack and pull out my iPad. I gesture for her to sit. Her brows knit in curiosity before she takes a seat.
“Mercs… what are you doing?” she asks as I tap open Facebook Messenger and start a video call.
The screen connects, and the camera shows a kitchen counter.
Gran’s voice calls out, “Kaden, sweetheart, I wasn’t expecting your call!”
“Gran, camera’s backward again.”
“Oh gosh… how do I fix that?”
“Tap the little camera with the swoosh. Remember?”
“Oh, yes, hang on…”
The screen flips, and there she is—rectangular glasses, silver braid, wild wisps of hair framing her weathered face. She’s got that usual just-been-in-the-garden look, which is familiar and comforting.
She smiles widely, spotting Effa. “So, this stunning little lady next to you, is that Effa?”
Effa straightens. “Hello, Mrs. Mercury. Yes, I’m Effa. Lovely to meet you.”
Gran scoffs. “Oh, honey, call me Gran. Everyone does. And look at you. My boy wasn’t lying, you are a looker.”
“Gran,” I warn, chuckling.
Effa beams. “Thank you. You’re pretty amazing yourself.”
“Kiera, Kaden’s on the phone,” Gran calls.
A squeal echoes.
Then footsteps.
And then Kiera bursts into view, beanie on, cheeks flushed.
“Oh my God, it’s about time! Effa, I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Effa laughs. “Same! Kaden talks about you a lot. He misses you both so much.”
Kiera’s smile falters just slightly, and Gran squeezes her hand. I slide my arm around Effa, pulling her into my side.
“I thought it was time you all met,” I explain.
“You think?” Kiera teases. “Effa seems cool. I know I’m awesome. So it’s not like you had a good reason to hold out on us.”
Effa folds her arms, grinning. “Yeah, Mercs. What gives?”
“This is why.” I sigh. “I knew once you two met, you’d gang up on me.”
Kiera laughs. “Chicks before dicks.”
Effa howls with laughter. “Right? It’s us against you, Mercs.”
“Blood’s supposed to be thicker than water,” I argue.
“And yet, you stink,” Kiera deadpans.
Effa sniffs the air dramatically. “He kinda does.”
I feign offense. “That’s the scent of pure manliness.”
Effa snorts as I throw my arm over her shoulder.
“But seriously…” I add, “We’re coming to Ligonier to visit. Effa wants to meet you in person.”
Kiera’s eyes well up, and Gran covers her hand again gently.
Effa doesn’t miss the flicker of sadness in Kiera’s expression. “I’ve got tickets with your name on them for Pittsburgh,” she offers.
Kiera blinks fast. “We can’t wait to see you. Right, Gran?”
Gran nods. “Absolutely.”
“I’m giving you squishy hugs,” Effa vows.
Kiera laughs. “I get a hug from the world’s coolest rock chick? Hoooly shit!”
“Language,” Gran mutters.
We all chuckle, and the rest of the call flows into teasing, booger-butt jokes, and Kiera ambushing me with an old picture of me in red heels.
Effa can’t breathe from laughing.
And honestly? I don’t even care. I’d wear those damn heels again if it means hearing my girl laugh like that.
Later, when the laughter fades, and the call is over, Effa looks at me, thoughtful. “You know… seeing you with Kiera and Gran, it was eye-opening.”
“How so?”
“You’re different with them. Softer, real, and I love who you are with them. I love who you are with me.”
I inhale slowly. “I care about the other girls in the band too.”
She nods. “I know. But this? This is deeper.”
And she’s right.
For Kiera, Gran, and now Effa—I’d do anything.
Walk through fire.
Take a bullet.
Die if I had to.
And that…
That scares the hell out of me.