Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“I’m so happy for you both. I know Kiera will be ecstatic for you, too. This is all she wants… for you two to be together,” Alana says.
“I know, I wish she could have been here for this,” Mercs sighs while looking at her.
“This calls for drinks,” Luke announces.
As everyone disperses, laughter filling the stage, I lean into Mercs.
We may not all share blood.
But this crew?
This family?
We’re bonded.
And together, we’re unstoppable.
MERCS
Two Weeks Later
Things are running as smoothly as can be expected.
Getting back into the rhythm of the tour didn’t take long.
Muscle memory is powerful, and even with cracked ribs and a nose that still aches when the weather shifts, I slipped back into the flow quicker than I anticipated.
I’m not able to climb into the rafters like I used to, and that still irritates me more than I’d like to admit, but staying on the ground and managing the crew has opened my eyes to parts of the show I never fully appreciated before.
I can see the timing from a different angle.
I can catch issues before they escalate.
I can interact with the guys more directly instead of barking instructions from above.
It’s also given Tank room to step up.
He’s been handling more responsibility, calling cues, adjusting placements, and taking charge when needed. Watching him find his footing has been surprisingly satisfying. He’ll be great at running his own shows one day, he just needs a little more confidence in his instincts.
Effa is performing like a fucking force of nature. The crowds are eating it up every night, screaming her name, singing every lyric back at her like gospel. We’ve crossed into Canada now to continue the tour, and the reception hasn’t slowed down one bit.
On the surface, everything looks back on track.
Even I’m feeling better.
Not healed, not even close. My ribs still hurt like a bitch, and sometimes something as simple as drawing a deep breath reminds me that bone doesn’t mend overnight. But I can move around more fluidly now. I’m not wincing every second, and the sharpness has dulled into something manageable.
The tour goes on break in a week, and I’ll finally head home to spend some much-needed time with Gran and Kiera. I know Kiera’s been itching to see me as she keeps hinting at it in texts, trying to play it cool, but I know her. She wants me home.
I’ve been tied up here, though. Between making sure the show runs clean and keeping an eye on Effa, I haven’t been able to leave early. Plus, I’m already skating on thin ice with Luke. I don’t need to give him another reason to question my damn priorities.
More importantly… I don’t want to leave Effa.
Even though she’s doing well, really well, I hate the thought of not being nearby. Sure, we have medics on call at all times, and they are capable. They handled her injections while I was stuck in the hospital, but knowing someone can help her isn’t the same as being the one who does.
I can’t be everywhere.
No matter how much I want to be.
I’m finishing up the lighting adjustments for tonight’s show when my cell vibrates in my hand. Glancing down, I see a text from Gran, and that alone makes my brows furrow.
Kiera texts me constantly. Gran? Hardly ever. She prefers calling, and if she wants something, she rings. Simple as that.
A small flicker of unease tightens my chest.
Tank is shutting down the stage lights, moving efficiently as the last of the crowd filters out into the night air. I nudge him lightly with my elbow.
“You good for a sec?” I ask.
He nods without looking up.
I turn slightly away, angling my body so Tank can’t see my screen, and open the message. The timestamp reads 8:47 p.m.
It’s now well past midnight.
I wince.
Gran: Kaden, I know you’re busy with the tour, but I think if you can get a chance to come home early you probably should.
We’d love to spend some quality family time together, and Christmas is such a special time of year.
I know Kiera would love to see you right now.
If you can, please come home. Love Gran xxx
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
The wording is careful.
Too careful.
Furrowing my brows, I tilt my head slightly, scanning for something between the lines. There’s no outright panic, no dramatic statement, but there is something beneath it. A weight that wasn’t there before.
I check the time again—too late to call. Too late to get a straight answer without waking Gran and possibly scaring her for nothing, so I rub my chin, drawing in a slow breath that pulls uncomfortably at my ribs.
Tank slaps my back lightly, peering over my shoulder. “What’s got you going all quiet?”
I swallow and lower my phone before he can read anything. “No, nothing. Just Gran asking when I’ll be home.”
He grins. “Bet you’re looking forward to seeing Kiera?” He wraps a cord around his elbow and hand.
There’s an uneasy shift in my gut that refuses to settle.
“Yeah.” The word doesn’t carry the conviction it should.
He watches me as I start walking away. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Sorry, I gotta go talk to Effa.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah… getting out of cleanup duties to see your lover. Sheesh, Mercs. I need to break my nose and ribs too.”
I don’t bother responding and head straight for the green room.
If Effa’s anywhere, she’ll be there winding down from the show. When I round the corner and step inside, I find her exactly where I expect, curled on the sofa, guzzling berry water like she just ran a marathon.
She looks up, surprise flashing across her face. “Hey, you… I thought you’d still be working?”
“I should be,” I admit.
Her expression shifts instantly. She stands and crosses the room, grabbing my hands. “Are you okay? Don’t you feel well?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, but I got a weird message from Gran, and reading between the lines… I think something’s wrong.”
Her brows knit together as she studies me. “What do you mean?”
“Gran seems very eager for me to come home.”
Effa purses her lips thoughtfully. “Have you spoken to her?”
I slump slightly. “No. I only just saw the message, and it’s too late to call now.” I show her the screen.
She reads it carefully, slower than I did.
“Well… I’m not sure what that means,” she says softly. “But I think it’s best not to panic. Wait until the morning. Call Gran when you can actually talk properly.”
“You think?”
She nods. “If something serious were going on, Gran would have told you. And if she couldn’t get you, she would’ve texted me too.”
She’s right.
Gran would.
“How about we skip the after-party tonight and go back to the hotel?” Effa suggests gently. “Try to get some decent sleep. We’ll wake up early and call Gran first thing.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably fall in a heap.”
I huff out a faint laugh. “Not probably, yes.”
We find Raoul easily, and he drives us back without question. The others head off to the after-party, accepting our excuse of exhaustion without pushing.
Now we’re in the hotel room, and Effa is curled against my chest, already asleep, her breathing slow and even.
Her warmth seeps into me, grounding me, but it doesn’t quiet the noise in my head while I stare at the ceiling.
The shadows cast by the city lights move faintly across it, shifting in soft patterns.
I don’t know why, but something feels off.
Like the air before a storm.
Like the ground is about to shift beneath my feet.
My jaw tightens, and my teeth grind slightly.
My muscles are wound so tight I feel like I could snap because I’m seriously worried about Kiera and Gran.
Half of me wants to grab the cell and call anyway, consequences be damned.
But if everything’s fine, I’ll wake Gran and scare her senseless for no reason.
So I lie here.
Waiting.
Listening to Effa breathe.
Trying to convince myself I’m overreacting.
The unease crawling through me refuses to settle. And then—
The room suddenly lights up.
My phone vibrates violently on the bedside table, the ringtone slicing through the darkness.
What the fuck?