Chapter 33 Morning Light
MORNING LIGHT
LILY
The warmth of the bus surrounds me like a soft cocoon, the weight of the blankets wrapped snugly around me, adding to the sense of comfort.
I blink awake slowly, my body achy in a way that brings a lazy smile to my lips, the memories of last night lingering like a pleasant haze.
The show was a success and if winding down at the bus after a performance keeps going like it did last night, it will become my favorite new group bonding activity.
The gentle hum of the bus moving beneath me is calming as I shift slightly, my head resting on Marcus’s chest. His arm is draped over me, his steady breathing brushing against my hair.
I glance up at him, his face peaceful, his blond hair slightly mussed. His scent—a mix of cedar and something warm—soothes me further. I lay there a moment longer, unwilling to let go of the quiet calm of the moment.
Golden light filters through the windows, bathing the interior of the bus in soft hues. As I stretch carefully, trying not to disturb Marcus, I roll out of the bunk and pad into the main living area.
Dylan is sprawled across the couch, his mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge and twitching like he’s mid-dream. My eyes scan over him briefly, surprised he never made his way to his bunk last night.
But it’s Jax who draws my attention and keeps it. He’s already awake, sitting at the table across from me, his green eyes locked on mine. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a quiet depth that speaks louder than any words.
"Morning," I whisper, my voice soft, not wanting to disturb Dylan.
"Morning," he replies, his voice low and rough, carrying the weight of someone who has spent too much time thinking.
I study him—his dark hair falling into his eyes, the shadow of stubble lining his jaw. There’s a softness in his features this morning, a vulnerability that wasn’t always there. His eyes, though still carrying traces of exhaustion, have a light in them that wasn’t there before.
"I’m proud of you," I say quietly, letting the words linger between us.
A soft chuckle escapes him, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah, well… I still feel like a mess."
"That’s the point," I say, shifting slightly to sit up more. "You’re working through it. You’re not alone anymore, Jax. And that’s what matters."
His gaze drops for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as he considers my words. When he looks back at me, there’s a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Guess I should be grateful for all these assholes, huh?" His smirk is full of affection despite the teasing tone.
Before I can respond, Enzo groans, his voice rough as he wanders into the living room, blinking blearily at the ceiling. "What the hell time is it?"
Dylan shifts on the couch, rubbing his face with both hands as he groans. "Too fucking early for whatever’s happening right now," he mutters, his curls sticking up wildly.
Jax smirks, standing up and stretching his arms out in front of him. "Rise and shine, fuckers. Another day on the road."
Marcus walks into the room, stopping beside me, and running a hand through his tousled blond hair as he yawns. His voice is still husky with sleep as he murmurs, "Back to the grind."
"There’s something about the road," Dylan says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes still half-closed. "The constant movement, the unpredictability… it’s like freedom in a weird way."
"Not to mention," Enzo adds, cracking his neck as he walks closer to me, "We can’t fuck up a tour if we don’t play one." His smirk is sharp, but there’s an ease to his tone that lightens the mood.
Laughter bubbles out of me, warm and unforced. I glance around at them all, my chest swelling with a mix of affection and gratitude. Despite everything—the chaos, the struggles, the messiness of our lives—this feels right. This is home.
Jax leans back against the counter, his arms braced casually to the sides. He surveys us, his expression thoughtful. "It’s good to be back," he says softly, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that makes me pause. "I thought I’d lost this. All of it. But…"
"You didn’t," I say, cutting him off gently. I meet his gaze, holding it steady. "You never lost us, Jax. We were always here. You just had to let us in."
His eyes soften, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Yeah," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now. "Guess I’m finally starting to believe that."
The bus hums beneath us, the rhythm of its movement lulling us into a comfortable silence. Outside, the light shifts, the sun rising higher and painting the landscape in soft shades of orange and pink.
As the morning unfolds, the weight we’ve been carrying feels a little lighter. I ignore the pressing words of Harris’ warning, tabling them for just a little longer. It’s almost time to tell the guys. Just not quite yet.
I don’t want them to lose this fragile hope that has been steadily building. There’s still work to do, still miles to cover, but I feel certain that we’re heading in the right direction.