Page 33 of What They Say

Chase laughed softly. “Yeah. Kath. I can’t stop thinking about her lyrics. Or her. It felt like if I’d had a guitar with me when she was reading, we could’ve written something real together. Or at least started something.”

Bonnie nodded slowly, still playing alongside him. “That’s a good sign. When someone’s words make music show up in your head without trying...that doesn’t happen every day.” She bumped his shoulder lightly. “Bring her around sometime. I’d love to hear what she writes. And if she ever wants to try putting music to any of it, I’m around.”

Chase felt a quiet warmth spread through his chest. “Thanks, Bonnie. I might take you up on that.”

They kept playing for a while longer, the groove loose and comfortable. For the first time, Chase didn’t feel like the youngest guy in the room trying to prove he belonged. He felt like part of it, full stop. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

And somewhere out there, Kath was carrying her notebook of lyrics—the ones that had sparked music in his head.

He smiled down at his guitar.

Yeah. He could definitely get used to this.

***

Kath

Kath twisted the throttle and pulled out of the lot behind The Grindhouse, the deep rumble of the custom bike vibrating through her bones. Chase settled in behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist—respectful, steady, exactly where they’d stayed before. The afternoon sun was warm on her arms as they left town behind, taking the long river road with its sweeping curves and open fields.

The wind whipped past, tugging at her hair where it escaped her helmet. It carried the sharp green scent of summer grass and wildflowers. The engine’s steady growl filled her ears, a living thing that drowned out the noise in her head and made everything feel possible. Every lean into a curve pressed Chase’s chest a little closer to her back, the shared vibration traveling through both of them like a secret language. He moved with her effortlessly, trusting her completely. It sent a low, dangerous thrill through her that had nothing to do with speed.

They rode in comfortable silence for a long stretch, the kind that didn’t need filling. Just wind, engine, and the occasional squeeze of his hands when she took a particularly sharp turn. Kath found herself smiling behind the visor. This, right here? This was freedom.

Eventually she eased off the throttle and pulled into their familiar overlook. The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the river in streaks of gold and rose. She thumbed the bike’s Off button, and the sudden quiet felt intimate, broken only by the tick of cooling metal and the distant call of birds.

They climbed off the bike. Chase took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, looking rumpled and unfairly handsome in the golden light. “I brought something,” he said, a little shy as he pulled a small paper bag from the saddlebag he’d insisted on carrying. “Stopped at that taco truck you mentioned last time. Figured we could eat while we watch the sunset.”

Kath’s stomach did a happy little flip. She accepted the bag, their fingers brushing, and they settled on the wide flat rock overlooking the water. The tacos were still warm, spicy and perfect, and they ate in easy silence for a while, shoulders touching, the river glittering below them.

When the food was gone, Chase leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon. “This is my favorite part of the day,” he said quietly. “Everything slows down. Makes it easier to think.”

Kath nodded, watching the colors deepen across the sky. The wind had gentled, brushing warm air across her skin. She felt hyperaware of him beside her—the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the faint scent of soap and leather, the way his gray eyes caught the sunset light.

She turned towards him at the same moment he turned towards her. Their faces were suddenly close, inches apart. Chase’s gaze dropped to her mouth for a heartbeat, dark and intent. Kath’s pulse kicked hard. She could feel the warmth of his breath, see the faint freckle on his cheekbone she hadn’t noticed before. The air between them crackled.

For one suspended moment, she thought he might close the distance. She wanted him to.

Chase’s hand lifted, fingertips brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek with aching gentleness. His thumb lingered just below her jaw, sending sparks across her skin.

Then he pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers, voice rough. “I really like this,” he whispered. “Being here with you. I don’t want to rush it.”

Kath’s heart thundered in her chest. The near-kiss hung between them like a promise, sweet and electric and full of possibility. She leaned her forehead against his for a second, breathing him in.

“Me neither,” she murmured. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

They stayed like that as the sun dipped lower, painting the world in fire and gold, the almost-kiss still tingling on her lips like a secret they were both holding on to.

***

Chase

The studio felt different with Benny back in the room.

Not louder, exactly, although Benny had always brought the noise. But the studio came alive in a way it hadn’t been during the long weeks of rehearsals with just Vic filling in. Chase stood near the back wall, guitar slung low, watching as Benny adjusted the strap on his guitar with careful, deliberate movements. His hands were steady today. Clear eyes. The brittle edge that had lingered right after rehab had softened some, but everyone could still see the caution in the way he moved.

Bonnie sat on a stool beside Vic, her own guitar resting across her lap. She gave Benny a warm, encouraging smile. “Whenever you’re ready, Ben. No pressure. We’ve got all night.”

Benny nodded, swallowing once before strumming a soft opening chord. The notes were tentative at first, almost fragile, but they grew stronger with each pass. Chase fell in on rhythm guitar, matching him gently, while Vic laid down a subtle brush on the drums—nothing flashy, just steady support. Bonnie layered in delicate fills, her playing weaving around Benny’s like she’d been doing it for years.