Forty-Seven
Kat
The Day I Tried To Live - Soundgarden
The coffee machine hums softly as it pours out the dark liquid into the jug, filling the kitchen with the beautiful smell of a dark roast. I lean my hip against the counter, watching the steam curl upwards, vanishing into the morning light pouring through the large windows.
It’s been a few days since HQ. A few days since my world closed in around me.
Life feels stranger now. With everything that came out, I thought I would feel more…
guarded, like I’m looking over my shoulder everywhere.
Like it used to be. But I feel calm, safe, and protected.
I’m not used to this feeling, but I can’t deny it feels good.
I don’t regret my decision to stay here. It was never a question, since what little I own is here anyway. I just felt so trapped in the moment, like everything was closing in on me the second I caught a glimpse of true freedom. The truth is, I can’t imagine living anywhere but here. Here is home.
This morning was my first shift back at work since shit hit the fan.
I had to call Cain. I struggled to explain to Kaycee why a huge, tattooed man was sitting silently in the corner of the cafe all day.
Kaycee didn’t ask questions, but I did catch their eyes gravitating towards him several times.
He never moved. He just sat there with his arms folded, drinking coffee after coffee and watching the room like a silent rottweiler.
Now, I pour the coffee into the white china mugs and place them carefully on a tray and carry them into the living room, where the band has spread out like they own the fucking place.
It feels weird having them here. High ceilings, enormous windows.
This mansion is so far from anything we’re used to.
The couch alone probably cost more than every piece of furniture we’ve ever collectively owned.
Even the rug beneath my feet feels too nice to step on—but I’m getting used to it.
“Oh, how the other half live,” Luca mutters, craning his neck as he takes it all in. His eyes track along the vaulted ceiling like he’s expecting a chandelier to drop on his head at any moment.
I snort. “Shut up,” I say, nudging his shoulder with my elbow as I hand him a mug.
Harper is sprawled across one end of the couch, her boots long kicked off, completely at ease. She takes her coffee and lets out a satisfied sigh. “God, it’s so nice having help,” she says, throwing a playful smirk my way. “I could get used to living in a place where things just appear.”
I let out a laugh as I hand Ryland his mug. An actual laugh. The sound surprises me as it slips out, and for a second, I almost look around the room like it came from someone else.
I sink into the armchair in the corner and wrap my hands around my mug of coffee. I shiver as the warmth seeps into my hands. I look around at my friends.
I’ve fucking missed this. I’ve missed the family.
Luca is on his feet and poking at a sculpture on the mantelpiece like he’s trying to figure out if it moves.
Ryland leans back on the couch with his legs stretched out, loudly sipping his coffee.
Harper has her legs tucked under her, her hands clasped around her coffee mug. She looks the most relaxed.
“So,” Ryland says after a beat of silence. “When are we playing again?”
The question is gentle, but it still hits me in the chest. I look down at the whitewashed beech floorboards. My silhouette stares faintly back at me in the polished wood. “I don’t know,” I mumble.
The air shifts slightly at my confession.
“Well,” Harper cuts in. “We’re currently being paid for not playing.”
I throw a grateful look towards Harper, and she returns it with a warm smile.
“Wow. Does that make us the worst band in history?” Luca snorts.
“Absolutely,” Ryland says without hesitation. “Truly groundbreaking. Anti-capitalist icons.”
“Very niche,” Luca agrees.
Laughter bubbles up around the room, and I let myself chuckle. The sound floods the massive space, filling it with a warmth I’ve not felt in a long time. My muscles feel looser as I let my shoulders drop. I need to tell them.
“Besides,” I add, the warmth of the moment filling me with courage. “I need a new guitar, anyway.”
Their attention snaps to me, and they all wear the same inquisitive expression.
“My apartment was broken into. My guitar didn’t survive.”
“Shit, Kat. I’m sorry,” Ryland says, his brow furrowed. He pauses to think for a second. “The band’s piggy bank could probably cover enough to get you something decent off Craigslist?”
I shake my head before he can finish, guilt rolling low in my chest. “No. I can’t take that. That money’s for recording our album.”
Harper reaches out, wrapping her fingers around my hand in my lap. “We can’t record without a guitar,” she says simply.
The others nod like it’s the most obvious thing in the fucking world. I can’t take that money. I look at them… really look at them. Something warm blooms in my chest.
“I don’t want to be the reason that—”
“You’re not,” Luca cuts me off. “It probably won’t be the best one. But it’ll be something. Hopefully something in one piece, which is already better than where we are now.”
I let out a soft laugh. The instinct to deny their help is still there. “I really can’t—”
Harper squeezes my hand firmly. “We’re family, Kat. You’re a part of this family.” Her voice drops low and steady. “We may not be rolling in cash like Elias, but let us do this. Let us help.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down.
My automatic response is to deny help, it always has been.
But the way they’re looking at me like it’s nothing—like whether to help me or not was never an actual question—makes something in my chest bloom.
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them away.
I’ve spent so long running that I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to be still, to be cared for.
“Okay,” I say finally.
The room brightens instantly. Ryland and Luca grin at me, and Harper gives my hand a small, final squeeze before letting go and draping herself back over the couch. Luca starts talking about some “secretly elite” pawn shops, but I’m barely listening.
I lean back in my armchair, my lukewarm coffee still in my hand. My heart feels so full, and for at least this moment, everything feels normal.
We talk for what seems like hours. The sunlight crawls across the room, slowly setting in the distance before morphing into shadows that stretch long across the floor. The automatic lights illuminate the darkness.
Harper places her third coffee cup down onto the coffee table and checks her watch. “Shit, I gotta go. I have a spin class.” She throws me an apologetic look to which I wave off dismissively.
Ryland and Luca say they also need to leave.
They start gathering their things, stretching and complaining like they haven’t been sitting on luxurious furniture for half the day. I walk them to the door. Ryland is first. I give him a quick hug before he leaves.
“Text if you need anything, K,” he murmurs before heading down the driveway.
Luca is next. He squeezes me a little tighter than usual before letting go.
Harper lingers in the doorway before pulling me into a full-body bear hug. When she finally eases back, she doesn’t let go of my arms, keeping me in her grip.
“Call me,” she says, her eyes locking with mine. “Every day. I don’t care if it’s boring. Even if it’s just to tell me what you ate, how the sex with Elias is… everything. I want to hear it.”
My throat tightens slightly before I nod the promise. “I will.”
“I love you,” she says, pulling me into one last hug before letting go.
“I love you too,” I call after her as she walks down the driveway.
I close the door behind me and stand there for a moment. I smile to myself as the quiet settles back into the house. The house feels bigger and emptier without them here, but my chest is so full it’s almost painful.
I gather the coffee cups and drift back into the kitchen.
I rinse the empty mugs one by one before slotting them into the entirely too large dishwasher.
Seriously, it’s only Elias who lives here.
Why does he need a dishwasher this big? The realization hits me that I live here too.
I smile to myself as I turn off the faucet, leaning against the marble countertop.
The doorbell rings.
I let out a snort, shaking my head as I make my way to the door. “What did you forget this time?” I call out.
I pull it open.
Nothing.
The porch is empty. No Harper. No Ryland. No Luca. Just the quiet driveway.
Confusion barely has time to register before pain shoots up the side of my neck. I let out a gasp, fingers flying up far too late. The world tilts violently on its axis.
The ground rushes up to meet me before my body gives out completely.