Chapter 36 A New Beginning
A NEW BEGINNING
MARCUS
I wake up with Lily curled against me, her blonde hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves. For a moment, I just watch her. Her face is peaceful, unburdened in sleep, and it’s like the rest of the world fades away. Her breathing is steady, her lips slightly parted.
Unable to help myself, I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers graze her cheek.
Her skin is warm, soft, and she stirs slightly, blinking her blue eyes open.
When she sees me, a sleepy smile tugs at her lips, and the sight of it makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“Morning,” she whispers, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I reply, my hand settling lightly on her back. “Sleep well?”
She stretches lazily, her body warm against mine. “Better than I have in a long time. How about you?”
“Same,” I admit, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. There’s something about waking up with her that feels so natural, so right.
She rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head to look at me. “We should probably get up. The others are probably already awake.”
I chuckle, leaning closer. “Let them wait a little longer.”
Lily laughs, the sound soft and musical, before she pushes herself up, sitting at the edge of the bed. Her movements are slow, deliberate, like she’s as reluctant to leave the quiet moment as much as I am.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her back into bed and rolling her beneath me, my elbows braced on either side of her head.
Her grin widens, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief as she looks up at me.
I lean down, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, my tongue brushing teasingly against the seam of her mouth until she parts for me, welcoming the gentle intrusion.
We linger like this, exchanging slow, tender kisses, her hands tracing idle patterns along my back.
My world becomes just the two of us wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
But eventually, the muffled sounds from the main area of the bus—laughter, clinking dishes, and Dylan’s unmistakable laughter—grow louder, breaking through our bubble of peace.
I pull back with a reluctant sigh, resting my forehead against hers. “Looks like the circus is awake,” I murmur, earning a soft laugh from her.
We drag ourselves out of bed and into the common area of the bus. The smell of coffee hits me immediately, rich and inviting, and I follow it to find Dylan at the stove, flipping pancakes with surprising focus. Enzo and Jax are already at the table, cups of coffee in hand.
“There they are,” Dylan calls, grinning as we step in. “Thought you two were gonna waste the whole day away in your bunk.”
“Trust me, it crossed my mind,” I say, grabbing two cups of coffee and sliding into the seat next to Lily, passing her one.
Jax looks up from his mug, his green eyes clearer than they’ve been in weeks. He still carries a faint shadow of discomfort in his shoulders, but he looks good. Strong. “Good timing,” he says, his voice rough. “Therapy session’s in an hour.”
I nod, the reminder settling over us. Harris set up a virtual group therapy session for Jax’s recovery, and though none of us have talked about it much since he initially brought it up, we all know it’s necessary. Not just for him, but for all of us. We’re stronger when we work together.
“Thanks for doing this with me,” Jax says, his eyes dropping to his coffee. The words seem hard for him to get out, his voice low. “I know it’s not exactly… fun.”
Lily reaches across the table, placing a hand gently on his arm. “We’re in this together, Jax. All of us.”
Her voice carries a quiet conviction, and the heaviness in the room softens. Even Enzo, who’s usually the first to add a snarky comment, simply nods.
Dylan continues flipping another pancake, finally breaking the moment with a grin.
“And let’s not forget,” he quips, “this session is happening right after I’ve cooked pancakes for everyone.
I fully expect someone to mention how I’ve stepped into the caregiver role here.
Really leaning into the whole team dynamic thing, aren’t I? ”
Jax huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but there’s a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. Dylan’s over-the-top humor can get annoying, but he also uses it to help steer the conversation when it gets too heavy.
We eat together, the conversation light and teasing, but beneath it all, there’s a shared anticipation for what’s coming next. Despite the undertone, breakfast together is nice, a small moment of normalcy.
When we wrap up eating, we gather around the table, setting up the laptop for the session in the center. Jax fidgets in his seat, his nerves showing, but no one calls him out on it. We’re all feeling the pressure in our own way; the weight of what this session means for all of us.
The screen flickers to life, and the therapist’s calm voice fills the room. “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for being here.”
One by one, we introduce ourselves. It feels awkward at first, but as the session goes on, a strange sense of relief settles in.
The therapist asks Jax to start, and he does, his voice cracking in places as he talks about the pressure of the band, the way he spiraled, and how hard it’s been to fight his way back.
We all share our piece. I talk about how the band is my family, how hard it was to watch Jax fall, and the guilt we all carry for not stepping in sooner.
Enzo, as expected, starts with sarcasm, deflecting at first, but eventually opens up about the anger and frustration he’s felt—not just at Jax, but at all of us.
Dylan, usually the joker, gets quiet, admitting his fear.
Fear for the band, for the future, and most of all, fear of losing Jax again, but for real this time.
Lily holds my hand through it all, her touch grounding.
She tried to leave the therapy session to just the band, but we all balked at the suggestion.
Lily is part of the group now, whether she fully accepts it or not.
When it’s her turn to speak, her voice is unwavering, full of warmth and compassion.
She talks about how much she believes in us—in Jax—and how she’s seen firsthand the strength we all have, even when we don’t see it ourselves.
When the session ends, the room is quiet for a moment, the weight of the conversation lingering. But it’s not a bad weight. It feels like a weight that we are working to release and move on. It’s the beginning of something lighter, something better.
“We did it,” Jax says, his voice thick with emotion. He glances around the table, his green eyes softer than I’ve seen in years.
“Yeah, we did,” I reply, my voice steady. “And we’ll keep doing it.”
Lily smiles at me, her blue eyes shining with pride and hope.
As the bus rumbles beneath us, carrying us toward whatever comes next, I feel it too. We are stronger the more we work together.