Chapter Ten
MERCS
After Effa finally made her way back to bed last night, I had trouble slipping back into sleep.
She drifted off almost immediately, her breathing evening out against my chest, but I couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t quite right with her recovery.
Even now, lying here with her tucked into my arms beneath the blankets, my heart still refuses to settle into a steady rhythm.
I keep replaying it—the headache, the sudden overheating, the way she looked disoriented for those few seconds. It might be nothing more than her pushing herself too hard, but ‘might’ isn’t good enough for me when it comes to Effa’s health.
I want to take her back to Pittsburgh today and have her checked over by her specialist, just to be certain. Maybe she overdid it, maybe her body’s still recalibrating, but I don’t want to take any risks.
Effa murmurs softly and shifts against me, beginning to stir. I bring my hand up instinctively, stroking her arm in slow, reassuring passes. She lifts her head, her eyes foggy and heavy with sleep, blinking up at me before a lazy smile curves her lips.
“Good morning, handsome.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Morning. How did you sleep?”
She stretches against me, letting out a satisfied little moan. “Like a log once I cooled off… you?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to admit I’ve been awake half the night imagining worst-case scenarios either. Instead, I carefully untangle myself from her and sit up on the edge of the bed, shifting the focus.
“I think I can smell bacon. Can you?”
She sniffs dramatically, her eyes lighting up as a wide grin spreads across her face. “Oh, yes. Gran, I love you,” she declares, bouncing out of bed and practically racing to the luggage to dig out something to wear.
I watch her, relief mixing with unease. She looks fine, she sounds fine, but that doesn’t mean everything is fine.
“We should call your specialist today,” I say evenly. “Maybe take a trip back to see him?”
She spins around, the grin slipping from her face, replaced by something more measured. “I’ll give him a call after breakfast, tell him what happened, and see what he says. No need to drive an hour if he can assess me over the phone. Right?”
Every instinct in me wants to shut that down immediately. I want to tell her it’s not negotiable, that this isn’t something she gets to downplay. I want to take control of the situation, to make the decision for her because I’m terrified of making the wrong one by leaving it to chance.
But fear won’t help her heal.
And fear could very well push her in the other direction.
So I force my anger and panic down where they belong and steady my voice.
“We’ll see what he says. But if he wants to see you, we’re going.
No questions. I don’t care if we have to stay in Pittsburgh for a week of testing, Effa.
If he wants you there, we go. If he doesn’t and says everything’s fine…
” I shrug, moving past her to pull out my own clothes. “Then we deal with that.”
She steps closer and places her hand over mine, grounding me. “Kaden, I’m fine. I feel fine. Just a tiny, weeny, incy headache…” She uses her fingers to show me. “And that’s it. I promise. There’s nothing wrong with me. You don’t need to protect me… but I love that you want to.”
I release a slow breath and nod, sliding my hand up to the back of her head and pulling her gently toward me. I press a firm kiss to her forehead before leaning back enough to look into her eyes. “I just… I can’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”
Her arms wrap around my waist, holding me tightly, and I feel the steady beat of her heart against my chest. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she murmurs. “Like I said, I’m fine. Stop panicking.”
I lean down and kiss her properly this time, slower, savoring the connection. She means more to me than I ever thought another person could. The idea that something could still be lurking beneath the surface of her recovery, and that we might ignore it, makes my chest tighten.
She pulls back before I can deepen it, and I swallow the groan threatening to escape.
Instead, I step away and watch as she pulls out a long tie-dyed maxi dress, mostly white with blue streaks swirling through it like watercolors.
She slips it over her head and lets it fall into place, forgoing a bra entirely.
I shake my head, already knowing exactly what that low neckline is going to do to me.
The front dips dangerously low, and the skirt splits high along one leg, swaying open when she moves and revealing flashes of smooth, toned skin. It’s unapologetically Effa, and it’s going to drive me insane.
She ties a daisy belt around her waist and settles her usual daisy-chain headband over her hair, completing that effortless boho rock vibe she carries so naturally.
I love her like this, the casual, grounded woman with her own rhythm and style.
Sure, I appreciate her in leather, commanding a stage under blinding lights, but this version of her feels softer.
More grounded. Less rock goddess, more Vespa earth girl who talks about energy and balance like it’s gospel.
This is the woman I fell for.
She glances back at me and catches me staring. “Are you going to continue gawking at me, or are you going to get dressed too, you weirdo?” She laughs and tosses a pillow in my direction before sitting on the edge of the bed.
I dodge it easily and shake my head, turning toward the luggage to grab my clothes. “Just admiring. I love it when you dress like you.”
She snorts. “Well, I love it when you’re completely naked, but we can’t all get what we want now, can we?”
***
After an entertaining breakfast, where Kiera passionately outlined all the ways she and Raoul would be perfectly suited while I mentally died a thousand humiliating deaths, Gran settles out back to tend her garden, and Effa and I wander toward the town square to sit in the bandstand.
The day is mild, the sky painted in soft grays with the sun fighting to break through the thin veil of cloud cover.
The town moves at its usual unhurried pace, the occasional car humming past on the main road reminding me just how sleepy this place feels compared to life on tour.
Across the street, Kammie’s Diner is already alive with its usual Friday morning crowd, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.
The trees sway gently overhead, leaves brushing together in a quiet, rhythmic whisper as the breeze rolls through.
I love fall here. Everything carries a faint amber glow, and the leaves crunch underfoot in a way that feels grounding.
The air smells faintly of pumpkins and cinnamon drifting from somewhere nearby.
This is the scent of home.
“You’re smiling,” Effa chirps as we approach the bandstand.
The vibrant tulips of summer are long gone, replaced now by amber-toned hedges and bushes preparing for winter. The white and pale green gazebo looks a little bare compared to how it looked months ago, but it’s still beautiful in its own way.
“I’m home. It’s fall. I’m with my girl. What’s not to smile about?” I reply as we climb the brick pathway and ascend the five steps into the gazebo.
We sit on the top step, looking out over the square, and I feel something inside me loosen.
Effa reaches over and threads her fingers through mine. “I love seeing you here, with Kiera, with Gran. I mean, I love who you are on tour too, but here you’re… I don’t know… centered.”
“It’s even better when you’re here,” I admit quietly.
She studies the town, nodding slowly. “I must admit, it has a good feel about it.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders and lift my free hand to wave at Mr. Jennings as he passes. He tips his head with a smile and waves back, which makes Effa giggle.
“It’s cute that you know everyone.”
I squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Isn’t there a phone call you should be making?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes… give me your damn phone. I left mine at the house.”
I hand it over, and she inhales deeply before dialing her specialist’s number. I lean back, trying not to hover, but I rest my hand on her knee so she knows I’m right here.
“Oh… hello. This is Vespa Carrington. I was wondering if I could speak to Dr. Wakefield about some symptoms I’ve been having since my release.”
She nods as she listens. “Sure, I’ll hold… okay.” She glances at me. “They’re patching me through.”
My jaw tightens.
What if something is wrong?
What if this isn’t just recovery adjusting?
If I have to take her back to Pittsburgh, I will. If I have to drag her across state lines for tests, I will. Hell, I’d fly her to the other side of the world if that’s what it took. Her health comes first. Always.
“Oh… hi, Dr. Wakefield,” she says, pulling me from my spiral. “Yes, I’ve had a couple of symptoms over the last few days and wanted to check if I should be concerned.”
I study her face, trying to read her reaction.
“Okay… so I’ve had a pretty constant headache. The intensity comes and goes. And then last night I had what I’d call a hot flash in the middle of the night. I was boiling even though the room was cold. It took a while to cool down, and I was covered in sweat…”
She nods slowly as she listens.
Why the hell isn’t this on speaker so I can hear him?
“Okay… right. Thank you so much for taking my call.” She laughs lightly. “Yes, I’ll try. Thanks again. Bye.”
She ends the call, and I raise a brow, surprised at how short it was.
“Well?”
She exhales slowly. “He said headaches can be common during recovery, but don’t automatically mean something serious.
The hot flash could be related too, but since I’ve only had one, he wants us to wait and see if it happens again before doing anything drastic.
He thinks it might just be my body recalibrating.
If it happens again, I’m to call him immediately, and we’ll book an appointment. ”