He could think of worse places to be waiting for his woman than lying in her comfortable bed.
***
Two nights later, atMarie’s, Occupy Yourself took the stage for what felt like the real beginning.
The crowd was loud and hungry.Vic sat behind the kit, heart beating steadily, and looked out into the sea of faces.Bonnie joined them on the stage for the first time, fingering the frets without strumming, just going through the songs silently, and she was watching Vic with a pride that made his chest tighten.
Benny stepped up to the mic.“This one’s new.We’re calling it ‘Grace In Motion.’”
Vic counted them in.
From the first beat, the song belonged to all of them—but Vic drove it.His drumming was powerful yet fluid, graceful in its precision, carrying the band through every dynamic shift.When Benny poured his heart into the chorus, Vic answered with thunder and light at the same time.The whole room moved with them.
During the bridge, Vic stood up behind the kit, still playing, sweat flying, eyes locked on Bonnie.
She was crying.
And singing through her tears.
***
After the encore, whenthe house lights came up and the crowd was still screaming, Vic moved around the stage and went straight for Bonnie.
She met him halfway.
She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard, right there in front of everyone.When she pulled back, her eyes were shining.
“I’m done running,” she said, voice thick.“I love you, Vic Montrose.I’m fucking terrified, but I love you.And I’m not going anywhere.”
Vic’s heart cracked wide open.
He kissed her again, slower this time, pouring everything he felt into it.“Good,” he whispered against her lips.“Because I’m not letting you go.”
***
Later that night, backat Bear’s house, the whole crew gathered—OY, Rebels, Mercedes, Chase, Lucia, Slate’s wife Ruby, everyone who mattered.
They celebrated on the back porch with beer and laughter and music spilling out of the garage.Vic sat with Bonnie tucked against his side, her hand in his, while Benny told the story of how Vic had protected the gear the day he collapsed.“The way Mitty talked, Vic was all in on keeping Benita and Danny from taking everything.Amps, guitars, mics.They were going to take it all, but Vic and Mitty stepped up.”
Mason raised a bottle toward Vic.“You’re family now, Montrose.Don’t forget it.”
Vic nodded, throat tight.“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
***
Bonnie
Bonnie’s hands were sweating against her thighs as Vic’s truck rumbled down the quiet suburban street.The neighborhood was modest, each with a neat lawn.They were older homes with character, the kind of place that felt lived-in rather than polished.Vic had been quiet for most of the drive from Fort Wayne, but every now and then, he’d reach over and squeeze her thigh, a silent reminder that he was right there with her.
She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this.
Meeting Grams.
The matriarch.The woman who had raised Vic when his father couldn’t.The one constant in his chaotic life.Bonnie had faced down hostile promoters, drunk crowds, and musicians who thought her talent came with benefits for them.None of that had ever made her stomach twist the way this did.
What if Grams took one look at her—the rock guitarist with the wild hair, the tattoos, the history of keeping everyone at arm’s length—and decided she wasn’t good enough for her grandson?
Vic must have sensed her nerves.He gave her thigh another gentle squeeze as they pulled into the cracked driveway of a small ranch-style house with faded blue shutters and a lopsided porch swing.
