Epilogue
Chase Mason sucked in a deep breath of springtime air, catching the sweet hints of lilacs blooming along the river only a couple of blocks away.
He shifted on the hard metal patio chair, already regretting the choice after ten minutes—his ass was going numb.
Across the small table sat a chattering teenaged girl with wide, expressive eyes and a smile that came fast and furious before fading into an exaggerated eye roll.
Dolly Jane Mason, fourteen going on thirty, had declared that she’d missed him “desperately” the moment he’d picked her up from the house. She said it like her love was bigger and louder than her older brothers’ combined, and Chase couldn’t help but believe her.
“Hey,” he called out to the waitress as she headed back inside with an empty tray. “Excuse me. Can I get another beer?”
She nodded, collected his empty bottle, and disappeared. Chase turned back to his sister, grinning.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” Dolly demanded, arms crossed.
“Only everything, squirt.” He leaned forwards, elbows on the table. “Good grades, taking care of Mom and Dad, questionable friends who talk you into even more questionable adventures...sounds like you’ve got it goin’ on.”
On cue, she executed another dramatic eye roll, huffing out a breath. “I didn’t say anything about Mom and Dad.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t not say anything about them either.” He reached out and used a single fingertip to slide her lemonade closer. “How are the ’rents? I haven’t talked to Dad in a while.”
Dolly’s smile faltered. She chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. “He took back over the RWMC. Which means he’s super busy again. Mom’s good, though. Still just as kooky as ever—painting weird abstract stuff in the garage and making Dad eat kale smoothies.”
Chase chuckled. “I bet she is. She’s always been a little different in the best way.” The waitress returned with his fresh beer. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” the young woman said, then paused. “Actually, this one’s covered.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “Covered? Who bought me a beer?”
She gestured towards the wall of windows behind him. “Guy at the corner four-top. No name, sorry. He just paid and said to keep them coming if you wanted.”
Chase twisted in his chair, hooking his fingers into the metal frame to get a better look. The sun’s glare on the glass made it hard to see inside—mostly reflections and vague shapes. He cupped a hand around his eyes, squinting.
At the corner table, a man was already pushing to his feet. Dark salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, a well-worn leather vest swirling around him as he turned towards the exit. For just a second, their eyes met through the glass. Chase’s breath caught.
Mason.
His father gave the faintest nod—barely there—then picked up his beer and walked over.
Chase sat frozen for a long moment, the cold bottle forgotten in his hand. Fifteen years. Countless tours, albums, sold-out shows, a life built on his own terms. That meant he didn’t spend a lot of time in his father’s orbit, but their relationship was still rock solid.
Dolly tilted her head, studying him. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Chase let out a slow breath and turned back to his little sister, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Not a ghost. It’s just Dad. He’s on his way out now.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? He’s going to come out?”
“Yep.” Chase took a long pull from the bottle, the cold bitterness grounding him. “About one minute from touchdown.”
“Chase.” The spoken name crossed the distance between them with warmth and a little amusement built in. “Didn’t know you were in town, son.” His hand landed on Chase’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“We’re doing supper for the kids at home. I think Kath told Willa about it. Y’all are invited if you don’t have anything else going on.” He reached up and patted his dad’s hand.
Dolly jumped up and ran around to wrap her arms around their father’s waist. “Hi hi, Daddio.”
Mason laughed, curling an arm around her shoulders. “Hi hi yourself, kiddo.”
Chase remembered when he was more “kiddo” than “son,” more “son” than “Chase.” It had taken a lot of work, but they’d managed to end up on the other side.
“I’ll ask Willa about supper, then reach out and let you know.” He gave Chase’s shoulder another squeeze, arm tightening around Dolly too. “Y’all have a fun time out. I’m gonna hit the clubhouse before I go home.”
“How are things going on that front?”
Chase watched as complex emotions rolled across his father’s face.
“Things are always interesting, you know that.”
“Yeah.” Chase nodded. “I sure do. Good to see you, Dad. Hope you guys can come over.”
“As if Willa would let us miss a chance to see the grands.” Mason laughed and then turned, walking away.
Chase watched him until the door closed behind him, then sat back in his chair with a sigh.
Dolly was quiet for a beat, then reached across the table and squeezed his wrist. “He’s proud of you, you know. Even if he’s crap at saying it. Mom says he plays your music in the garage when he thinks no one’s listening.”
Chase felt something loosen in his chest. The boy who’d once desperately wanted his father’s approval had grown into a man who’d built his own legacy. But that didn’t mean the old ache was gone. It just sat quieter now.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
He lifted the beer and considered it for a moment, then turned his full attention back to Dolly.
“All right, squirt. Enough about ancient history. Tell me about these questionable friends and their questionable adventures. I need details so I can decide whether to fly back and kick some asses.”
Dolly’s grin returned, bright and full of life, and she launched back into her story with renewed energy.
Chase listened, laughing in all the right places, the spring sun warm on his shoulders and the distant rumble of a motorcycle somewhere down the street sounding like home.
Some things changed.
Some things—family, music, the quiet understanding between a father and son—never really did.
***
The sun was dipping low by the time Chase pulled his truck into the driveway of the modest house he and Kath had bought eight years ago.
The place wasn’t flashy—just a solid four-bedroom with a big yard that backed up to woods and a garage big enough for his guitars, their bikes, and the occasional club project.
It felt like home in every way that mattered.
Dolly was out of the truck before he could even kill the engine. He watched her disappear around the corner of the house and sat for a moment, listening to the distant laughter drifting from inside. The front door flew open before he could even reach the porch steps.
“Daddy!” A small tornado with wild platinum curls and Chase’s stormy gray eyes launched herself at him. Six-year-old Primrose wrapped her arms around his leg like a monkey. “You’re late! Mama said you were bringing Dolly!”
Chase laughed, scooping his daughter up and settling her on his hip. “I did. She’s inside with your mom already, probably getting spoiled rotten.” He kissed the top of Primrose’s head, breathing in the familiar scent of strawberry shampoo and sunshine. “Where’s your brother?”
“Helping Mama with dinner. He keeps stealing the strawberries.” Primrose grinned, showing a gap where her front tooth used to be. “I saved you one.”
Inside, the house smelled like garlic, fresh bread, and something sweet baking.
Kath stood at the stove in one of his old band tees that hit her mid-thigh, stirring a pan while their eight-year-old son—Oliver, who was once again demanding everyone call him Olly—stood on a step stool beside her, “helping,” while Dolly was talking a mile a minute, pausing only for brief nods from Kath to encourage her to carry on.
Kath looked up, her smile softening the moment their eyes met. Even after fifteen years, that look still hit him square in the chest.
“You’re home,” she said simply, like it was the best part of her day.
“I’m home.” Chase set Primrose down and crossed the kitchen, pulling Kath into his arms for a proper kiss—slow, familiar, and full of quiet gratitude. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “Missed you.”
“Missed you more,” she whispered, fingers threading through the hair at his nape. “How was your visit with Dolly?”
“Loud. Dramatic. Perfect.” He glanced towards the living room where he could hear Dolly already chattering away with Primrose. “Dad showed up for a minute. Said he’d text if they could come.”
Kath’s expression gentled. She knew what that would mean to him. “Progress. Also, I already heard from Willa. They’re coming and bringing Gar and probably Faynez.”
“Sounds good.” Chase stole another quick kiss, then turned to ruffle Olly’s hair. “All right, chef. What are we burning tonight?”
The evening unfolded in comfortable chaos—dinner at the crowded table, laughter, stories, Dolly dramatically reenacting her latest school adventure while the little kids hung on every word.
Chase finding time to have a solid conversation with his father, about the band, the club, their families and spouses.
It felt more normal than he might have ever experienced.
Later, after goodbyes filled with hugs and kisses, and baths featuring bubbles, and the bedtime stories, Chase found Kath on the back porch swing, a blanket around her shoulders and two mugs of tea waiting.
He sat beside her, pulling her close. The spring night was cool and quiet, fireflies starting to wink in the yard.
“Fifteen years,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Still can’t believe you took a chance on the quiet guy in the diner.”
Kath smiled, leaning into him. “Best decision I ever made. You gave me a life I didn’t know I could have. Music. Family. Safety. Love that doesn’t disappear when things get hard.”
Chase swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You gave me the same. A home. A reason to stop running from my own shadow.”
They sat in peaceful silence, the swing creaking gently, the distant rumble of a motorcycle somewhere in the neighborhood sounding like an old friend passing by.
“I’m going to write some tonight.” Kath leaned in a little more, her voice dropping to that soft, conspiratorial tone he still loved after all these years. “Wanna watch?”
Chase’s grin turned wicked. “Naked lyric time for the fucking win, baby.” He stood and pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. “Let’s go.”
Leading her by the hand down the short hallway of their Fort Wayne house, he paused only long enough to twist the lock on their bedroom door with a decisive click.
Behind him, Kath had already dropped his hand and was shimmying out of her jeans with practiced ease.
They hit the floor with a soft whisper of denim.
As he bent to scoop them up, her shirt floated down right in front of him like a surrender flag.
He straightened, arms full of her clothes, and simply watched.
Kath moved with the comfortable confidence of a woman who knew she was safe and adored.
She unhooked her bra, let it fall, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and stepped out of them.
Naked, unselfconscious, she padded across the room and perched on the foot of the bed, reaching for the acoustic guitar that lived in its stand nearby.
The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow across her skin, highlighting the faint stretch marks she wore like badges from carrying their children, the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, the platinum hair she still refused to fully tame.
Chase shook his head slowly, a deep warmth spreading through his chest. “I’m really glad I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.”
“Only for you, baby.” She grinned, strumming a soft, experimental chord. The sound filled the room like an old friend. “Who knew pants-off writing would evolve into full naked lyric sessions? Turns out the more skin, the better the hooks.”
He laughed under his breath and set her discarded clothes on the chair.
“Whatever works. You know I’m not complaining.
” Chase picked up his own acoustic, settling on the bed across from her so their knees brushed.
He leaned over and thumbed the lock on the door again out of habit.
“We don’t want any unannounced visitations.
It’s hard enough keeping clothes on Primrose as it is.
If that girl thought she could get away with being naked, she’d do it all the time—just like her mama. ”
Kath’s laughter was bright and free, the kind that still made his heart flip even after fifteen years.
She adjusted her grip on the guitar, legs crossed casually, completely at ease in her skin with him.
“Poor kid. She’s got my creative quirks and your stubborn streak.
God help us when she hits the terrible twelves. ”
They fell into an easy rhythm, the way they always did.
Kath played a few soft bars, humming under her breath, while Chase listened and then layered in a complementary riff.
Words started flowing from her—half-formed lines about long roads, second chances, and the kind of love that grew roots deep enough to weather any storm.
He offered a chord change here, a suggested melody tweak there, content to be her sounding board, her collaborator, her safe place.
Every so often, he’d glance up and catch her watching him right back, that same spark in her eyes he’d first seen all those years ago on the tailgate of his truck. The years had only deepened it.
Whatever came next—more tours, more kids, more life—they would face it together. Just like they always had. Naked lyrics, locked doors, messy family chaos and all.
The End