Page 43 of The Ballad of Us
“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.
