Chapter Twenty-Five
Chase
The venue lights were low during sound check, but Chase barely noticed the crowd filtering in. His attention kept drifting to the stool at the back of the stage where Kath sat, legs crossed, watching everything with wide, curious eyes.
He’d invited her to this gig almost a week ago, and she’d been nervous about riding on the band bus.
“I don’t want to be in the way,” she’d said.
He’d promised—sworn—he wouldn’t leave her alone for a second.
That had been enough. She was here, wearing one of his hoodies over her tank top, looking equal parts excited and overwhelmed.
Every time he stepped back from the mic during a break in sound check, he found himself gravitating towards her. He’d lean down, steal a quick kiss, or just rest his hand on her shoulder. Benny caught him doing it for the third time and just grinned.
After sound check wrapped, Chase took her hand and led her towards the merch table near the entrance. Sheri was already there, happily rearranging displays like a general organizing her troops.
“Sheri, this is Kath,” Chase said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “Kath, Sheri’s been handling merch for years. She’s the best.”
Sheri lit up and immediately pulled Kath into a warm hug. “Finally! I’ve heard so much about you. Come help me fix this table—these boys have no sense of visual flow.”
Benny’s voice called from behind them. “Chase! Need you for a second on the setlist change.”
Chase hesitated, torn. He didn’t want to leave Kath, not even for a minute. Sheri noticed immediately.
“Go on,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’ll put her to work. We need another big tub of sweatshirts from the truck anyway—those sell out the fastest, I don’t know why.”
Kath flashed him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve got this. Go do band stuff.”
Chase watched the two women walk off together, each carrying an empty box, Kath glancing back once to blow him a quick kiss over her shoulder. He stood there, mesmerized, until he felt someone behind him.
Benny chuckled. “You’ve got it bad, brother.”
Chase rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. “Yeah. I really do.”
Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “Reminds me of the time I tried to impress Luce during a show. I jumped off the stage mid-song to hand her a pick and twisted my wrist so bad I played the rest of the set in a brace. She still teases me about it.”
Chase laughed, the tension easing.
Benny nodded towards the stage. “The openers are starting to load in. Can you keep an eye on our gear? Make sure nothing gets moved or messed with?”
“On it.”
Chase positioned himself where he could watch both the stage and the hallway to the merch area. The openers were professional enough—no one touched OY’s equipment. His eyes kept drifting back towards the merch booth.
When Kath and Sheri returned, each carrying a heavy box of sweatshirts, he followed them with his gaze the whole way. Kath caught him staring and blew him another kiss. It took every ounce of willpower not to abandon his post and run straight to her.
The show itself was electric.
The crowd was loud and hungry. Chase played with everything he had, but part of him stayed tuned to where Kath was.
She started on the stool at the back of the stage but eventually made her way out to the merch booth.
He caught glimpses of her helping Sheri between songs, the women working together like they’d done it a hundred times.
By the time the band hit the encore and the house lights came up, Chase was buzzing. He powered through the breakdown of his own gear, then headed straight for the merch table.
Vic and Benny were already there, signing anything fans handed them. Luce had joined Sheri and Kath behind the table, and the three women moved like a well-oiled machine—efficient, friendly, and unstoppable.
Chase leaned on the table, eyes locked on Kath. She looked up, caught his stare, and smiled—tired but genuinely happy.
When the last fan left and the venue was finally emptied except for crew, Chase slipped behind the table and took Kath’s hand.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”
They walked out to the bus hand in hand. The night air was cool, the parking lot quiet now. Chase helped her up the steps, then pulled her into a seat near the back where they could have some privacy.
When it was time for the bus to roll out of the lot, he anchored her against him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then pressed a kiss to her temple.
“I’ve got it all,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The girl. The band. The father I always wanted. And right now...it feels pretty damn perfect.”
Kath leaned into him, her head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It really does.”
***
Mitty
Mitty leaned against the merch table at the back of Marie’s, watching Sheri count the night’s earnings with that same focused precision that always made him smile. The show had ended an hour ago, but she was still working—neat stacks of bills, careful notes on what had sold best.
“You know you don’t have to do all that tonight,” he said, as he always did this time of night. He stepped closer, voice already rougher than he intended.
Sheri looked up, a bright-as-sunshine smile breaking across her face. “Old habits. If I don’t stay on top of it, the inventory gets away from me.” She tilted her head, studying him, her eyes darkening as she took in the way he was looking at her. “You sticking around...again?”
He snorted a quiet laugh, then Mitty rubbed the back of his neck, heat already pooling low in his gut.
“Yeah. Thought maybe after you finish, we could grab a late bite. Or...” He swallowed.
“We could get a hotel room tonight. Another taste of a real bed. No bunks. No crew walking past every five minutes. Just you and me.”
Sheri’s breath caught. She set the money box aside, reached for his hand, and laced their fingers together. Her pulse was already racing against his palm. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “A lot.” She paused, then grinned and said, “Again.”
The drive to the hotel was a blur of heated glances and barely restrained touches.
The second the door clicked shut behind them, Mitty had her pressed against it, mouths crashing together in a kiss that had been building for weeks.
Sheri moaned into it, fingers diving into his hair, pulling him closer as her body arched against his.
“Been missing this,” he growled against her throat, hands sliding down to grip her hips, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist. “You. All night. No rushing.”
Sheri’s laugh was breathless, turning into a gasp as he rocked against her, the hard length of him pressing right where she needed it. “Then stop talking and fuck me, Mitty.”
He carried her to the bed, laying her down like she was something precious even as his hands turned greedy—stripping her shirt off, mouth following the tempting path of exposed skin.
Sheri tugged at his clothes with equal urgency until they were both bare, skin hot against skin.
He took his time exploring her with hands and mouth, tasting the salt on her collarbone, sucking marks into the soft curve of her breast until she was writhing beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders.
When he finally slid into her—slow, deep, and relentless—Sheri cried out, legs locking around his hips.
The rhythm built fast and hard, the cheap hotel bed creaking beneath them, her moans filling the room as he drove into her again and again.
She met every thrust, nails raking down his back, whispering filthy encouragement against his ear until he was shaking with the effort to hold back.
“Mitty—fuck—Ah God, don’t stop,” she gasped, tightening around him as pleasure crashed through her. He followed right after, burying himself deep with a broken groan, hips stuttering as he came hard inside the condom.
They collapsed together, sweat-slick and breathing ragged, limbs tangled. Mitty pressed soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, the intensity bleeding into something tender.
“You’re not just the merch girl,” he murmured against her skin, voice wrecked. “You’re everything, Sheri. My everything.”
She smiled, lazy and sated, threading her fingers through his hair. “Good. Because I’m keeping you.”
They stayed like that for a long time—naked, wrapped around each other in the quiet hotel room—while the world outside kept spinning without them.