Vic smiled a little, watching the drumstick turn end over end.The offer was tempting on paper—the kind of reliable paycheck he would’ve jumped at a year ago without thinking twice.
But things were different now.
“Nah, I’m good,” he said, voice solid and sure.“Appreciate the call, but I’m staying put.OY’s where I belong.”
Meg was quiet for a beat, then let out a soft, pleased laugh.“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
Vic leaned back in the chair, the late-afternoon sun warm on his face.“It feels right here, Meg.The band’s solid.Benny’s in a good place.The new material is strong, and the crowds are starting to show up for us instead of just the headliner.I’ve got something real with these guys.I don’t want to walk away from it.”
He could almost hear her smiling through the phone.
“I’ve always known you were looking for something that felt like home,” she said gently.“Not just another gig, not just another paycheck.You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a kid banging on coffee cans in your grandma’s kitchen.Sounds like you’ve finally found it in Fort Wayne.”
Vic nodded even though she couldn’t see him.“Yeah.I have.”
Meg’s tone stayed soft, almost maternal.“Any romantic involvements?”
He let out a slow breath.“Still working on that.The woman I want, well, she’s worth the wait.”
“Good.”There was quiet pride in Meg’s voice now.“A woman worth her salt is always worth working for, Vic.Always.But you’ve already made the right call on the band.That’s the important part.”
She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “By the way...I saw your brother last week.”
Vic sat up a little straighter.“Conner?”
“Yeah.He was in town doing some security consulting work.Looked good.Clean.We grabbed coffee.He asked about you.”
Vic’s chest tightened, but it wasn’t the old ache anymore.Just surprise.“He did?”
“He did.I told him you were doing well.Really well.”Meg’s voice warmed again.“Think about that session gig if you ever change your mind, but I have a feeling you won’t.You’ve earned your place there in Fort Wayne.Don’t second-guess it.”
She hung up, leaving Vic sitting in the quiet with the drumstick still spinning slowly between his fingers.
He thought about Bonnie.About the way she made him feel alive even when she was keeping her distance.About how terrifying and worth it she was.
He thought about OY—the band that had become home faster than he’d expected.About Chase, who looked up to him.About Bear, who’d opened his house without question.About the club that was slowly making room for him.
Vic stood up, walked into the garage, and sat down behind the practice kit.
He brought the sticks down hard.
The music poured out of him—powerful, steady, and sure.
He wasn’t running.
Not this time.
***
Meg
Meg sat alone in the small office off her main studio, the bottle of tequila still on the desk from Bonnie’s visit a few nights earlier.The glass in her hand was half empty, the clear liquid catching the low lamplight.She hadn’t bothered turning on the overheads.The dimness suited her mood.
She’d just hung up with Vic.
He’d sounded...solid.Sure of himself in a way she hadn’t heard in years.When she’d offered him the three-month session block—good money, high-profile artists, the kind of steady work most drummers would kill for—he hadn’t even hesitated.
“Nah, I’m good,” he’d said, calm and decisive.“OY’s where I belong.”
