Chapter 15 #2
Gray comes around to open my door, laughing at their silliness, and the moment my feet hit the ground, Parker is launching himself at me like a guided missile.
“Rhea!” He sweeps me up in a hug that lifts my feet off the ground, spinning me around once before setting me down. “God, we missed you. It hasn’t been the same without you keeping us all in line.”
His enthusiasm breaks something loose in my chest, and suddenly I’m laughing and hugging him back just as fiercely. “I missed you, too, you crazy drummer.”
Zep is next, his hug gentler but no less warm. “Look at you, all mountain fresh and glowing. Rural life agrees with you.”
“Look at you, getting shot down by single mothers,” I tease, and his groan makes everyone laugh.
Andrew’s hug is tight and familiar, the protective big brother energy that always made me feel safe. “Thank you for coming tonight. And for not completely writing us off when you left.”
“Never,” I tell him firmly.
Wyatt’s embrace is steady and grounding, exactly what I’d expect from the bass player who holds everything together. “The coffee hasn’t been the same without you. Parker tried to make it your way once and nearly poisoned us all.”
“Hey! That was one time, and it was before noon,” Parker protests.
Cody is last, and his hug is sweet and a little shy, the way it’s always been with him. At thirty-two, he’s the youngest of the group, a musical savant on virtually any instrument, and I’ve always felt protective of his gentle nature.
They usher us inside, and immediately, I’m overwhelmed by how much it feels like home.
It doesn’t feel like my home, but theirs.
The space has been transformed into a temporary recording studio, with guitars and keyboards scattered around the living room.
Notebooks, full of lyrics, are spread across every surface.
“Someone’s been busy.” I take in the creative chaos I remember so well.
“Gray’s been a writing machine. Three months in rehab apparently did wonders for his creativity.” Andrew’s pride over his little brother’s hard-won sobriety and new songs is obvious.
Gray slides into the conversation when Parker complains he’ll starve if someone around here doesn’t feed him soon. “I may have attempted to make your broccoli-cheese casserole for dinner. The keyword being attempted.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You cooked?”
“I followed your recipe exactly. Andrew supervised me to make sure I didn’t burn the cabin down.” Gray laughs.
Parker jumps in like an impatient child. “Well, let’s sit down and eat it then. I’m dying of hunger.”
The casserole is perfect, golden brown and bubbling, and I’m genuinely impressed. “Gray, this is amazing. When did you learn to cook?”
He pauses eating, putting his fork down on the plate and giving me his undivided attention. “Rehab had cooking classes as part of the life skills program. Turns out I’m not completely hopeless in the kitchen when I’m sober and paying attention.”
Dinner is easy in a way I hadn’t expected.
The conversation flows naturally, full of the teasing and storytelling that always characterizes our group dynamic.
They catch me up on industry gossip, label politics, and the new material they’ve been working on.
I tell them about Mountain Mornings, about Mrs. Chen, Emma, and the quirky regulars who’ve become my extended family.
“Tell her about Lana.” Cody wears a big grin, and Zep groans immediately.
“Can we please move on from my romantic humiliation?” Zep doesn’t find the teasing the least bit fun.
“Never. Did Gray tell you she basically challenged him to prove he’s daddy material?” Parker asks me too cheerfully.
“Yeah, he’s got to be papa bear material to a little human who is required to be present during their date,” Wyatt adds helpfully, attempting to hide a smirk and doing a miserable job of it.
“She didn’t challenge me to anything. She simply stated her terms for a hypothetical date that isn’t happening, so why are we still talking about this?
” Zep shovels another bite into his mouth, but he casts his eyes down as his jaw hardens.
He’s unhappy. “His name is Jake.” Zep looks as if he wishes he could take his words and snatch them out of the air to take them back.
He appears mortified to know this information.
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You actually asked about her son?”
“I may have inquired about his name. For conversation purposes.”
“Zep has a crush,” Andrew singsongs, and the indignant look on Zep’s face makes us all dissolve into laughter.
As the teasing continues, I realize how much I’ve missed this.
The easy camaraderie, the way they can make me laugh until my sides hurt, the feeling of being part of a unit that’s bigger than myself.
These men became my brothers when I wasn’t looking, filling a void in my life I didn’t know existed.
After dinner, we migrate to the fire pit on the deck, guitars in hand. This is where the magic always happens, around fires and late-night sessions where the best songs are born. Gray settles across from me with his acoustic guitar, and the first chord he strums sends shivers down my spine.
They play old favorites first, songs that made Case in Point famous, and I find myself singing along to harmonies I helped arrange years ago.
Then they transition to new material, and I finally get to hear the songs born from Gray’s recovery and the band’s shared experiences of how Gray’s actions affected them all.
Gray plays several new pieces, his voice clear and strong in the mountain air, but none of them is the song he mentioned writing about me.
Part of me wants to ask, to hear what he’s written about our story, but I hold back.
It feels too intimate for this setting, too personal to share with everyone else listening.
“We should talk business—about you possibly coming back to work with us,” Andrew says eventually, setting down his guitar.
The shift in conversation makes my stomach clench again. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“Part-time. Fifteen to twenty hours a week, flexible scheduling. We’re not touring for at least six months, just writing and recording locally,” Parker answers.
“What kind of tasks?” I slip into professional mode.
“The usual chaos management—scheduling, correspondence, keeping track of our scattered brains. Additionally, we would welcome creative input if you’re interested.
You always had great instincts about arrangements and song structure.
” Wyatt grins as though the thought of my returning to work for them makes him happy.
“And we’d double your old salary. You deserve hazard pay for dealing with us again.” Andrew sweetens the deal.
The offer is generous, more than generous, but I need to be clear about boundaries before I agree to anything.
“If I do this, things have to be different than before. I can’t be the band’s emotional support system. I can’t manage anyone’s personal problems or addiction issues. I’ll do the job, but I won’t be responsible for keeping anyone’s life together.” I’m firm, not unpleasant, but direct.
Gray nods immediately. “Absolutely. That’s not your job, and it never should’ve been.”
“I’ll need clear parameters about what you expect from me, and I reserve the right to say no to anything that feels too personal or crosses professional boundaries.” I tack on, making sure I cover all my bases.
“Done. We want you back because you’re damn good at what you do, not because we need a babysitter,” Andrew adds.
I look around the circle, seeing nothing but genuine enthusiasm and respect in their faces. These men have grown up, too, and learned from the mistakes that nearly destroyed everything.
“Okay. I’m in. But we start with a trial period of sixty days and see how it goes.” I give myself the out in case I need it.
The cheer that goes up around the fire pit makes me laugh, and suddenly I’m being passed from hug to hug again, each of them thanking me for giving them another chance.
As the evening winds down and Gray prepares to drive me home, I realize something has shifted. Not just between Gray and me, but between all of us. We’re not trying to recreate what we had before. Instead, we’re building something new and healthier.
For the first time since I left Nashville, I feel like I might be able to have both versions of my life—the peaceful mountain existence I’ve managed to construct and the creative fulfillment of working with some of the most talented musicians I’ve ever known.
Perhaps I can have it all, just not in the way I originally thought.