Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Alright, spill it, Nick. You've been off all day. What's going on, man?" Joe finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with concern as he sat down next to me, turning off the TV.

Kevin joined us, leaning against the piano, arms crossed. “You’ve been off these past few days. More than off. It’s like you’re here, but you’re not really here. What’s up?”

Kevin asks, his voice losing its usual teasing edge as he leans in, serious for once. He looks at me with concern, clearly sensing there's more on my mind than just the notes floating through the air.

The room went silent.

Joe and Kevin exchanged a look—one of those silent brotherly moments where they knew something was up. Then, they turned their attention back to me, their expressions firm.

Joe spoke first. “It’s Macy, isn’t it?”

The mention of her name was like a dam breaking within me. I sighed, turning away from the piano, feeling suddenly weary.

“It’s a mess,” I admitted, rubbing a hand over my face. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Her mom found out about the song—you know the one. And now she thinks we lied, that we were just stringing Macy along. She’s forbidden her from seeing me, and I haven’t heard from her in three days.”

Saying it out loud made it feel even worse. Like the distance between us had just stretched even further.

Joe’s brow furrowed, his protective instinct kicking in. “That’s rough, man. But why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could’ve helped or at least supported you through it.”

"Yeah," Kevin chimed in. "This isn’t like you, Nick. You’re usually the first one to figure a way out of a mess. What happened to that guy?"

Their words, frank and earnest, stirred something in me. It was a reminder of the countless times we’d faced obstacles before—both on and off the stage—and how we’d always managed to pull through by sticking together.

“I didn’t know what to do,” I confessed, feeling the frustration and helplessness bubble up again. “It felt like anything I tried would just make things worse. I’ve been thinking it might be too late to fix it.”

Kevin shook his head, a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s not too late, Nick. It’s never too late. We can’t just sit back and let this happen. We’re a team, right? We’ve got to do something.”

Their enthusiasm was contagious, and for the first time in days, a flicker of hope sparked within me. “You really think we can do something?”

“Absolutely,” Kevin chimed in, his smile reassuring. “We’re your brothers. We’re not going to sit back and watch you mope around. Macy’s important to you, so she’s important to us too. Let’s figure this out, together."

"We'll brainstorm something epic, something that’ll show her Mom how serious you are,” Joe added.

"You're right," I said, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "I can't just let this go without trying. I need to do something to show Macy—and her Mom—that I'm serious about this. That what Macy and I have is real."

Joe nodded, his face lighting up with a supportive grin. "That’s the spirit! So, what’s the plan?” 

"We need something genuine, something that speaks directly to her Mom's concerns," I mused aloud, the gears turning as I began to formulate a plan. "Maybe something that shows how much Macy means to me, and that I’m not just some guy who's going to walk away when things get tough."

"How about a grand gesture? Like a serenade? Classic, romantic, and straight to the point," Joe suggested, ever the romantic.

Kevin thought for a moment before adding, "Or we could get everyone who knows you and Macy together, maybe put together a slide show of your time together—pictures, notes, things that show you’re serious. It’s personal, and it’s heartfelt. Might help her Mom see the good you’re bringing into Macy’s life."

"Both are solid ideas. How about we blend them? We can make it a personal testament of our relationship, but let's back it up with words from our friends and family too. It could add a really nice touch, don't you think?"

"We’ll call it 'Operation Heartfelt,'" Kevin declared with a grin, finally breaking the tension. "Time to bring the big guns, little bro. We’ve got your back."

I nodded, a spark of hope igniting within me. Their ideas were good, and their willingness to help was even better. “Thanks, guys. I knew I could count on you.”

Encouraged by their support, we spent the rest of the evening tossing around ideas, each more creative than the last. From heartfelt letters to a mini-concert dedicated to Macy, the plans varied, but the goal was the same—to bridge the gap that misunderstanding and fear had built.

"Hold on, let me call Stella real quick!" Joe said, grabbing his phone. "I've got an idea!" 

Joe placed it on speaker, the line barely rang before Stella picked up.

          "Babe!" 

"Hey, Stella! What’s up?"

       "Not much. What’s going on with you?"

Joe grinned, pacing slightly. "Remember those scrapbooks Macy used to make for me and my brothers? The ones with all the glitter and doodles?"

         "Of course, I remember. Why? What about them?"

"Well, we need your help. Think you can make us a scrapbook about Macy?"

         "For what?"

"To show her Mom. We need to remind her just how much Nick—and the rest of us—love Macy. Her Mom found out about the whole lying situation, and now she’s forbidding Nick from seeing her. She grounded her, and even took her phone!"

Stella gasped.

          "Seriously? That’s awful, no wonder Macy isn't answering her phone...” Stella replied, her voice softening before determination kicked in.

          “I’m on it! I’ve got tons of pics of us all together. It’ll be so cute! I’ll add some fun notes too—something to really show her Mom how much Macy means to all of us. "

Joe’s grin widened. "That’s why I called you, babe. You’re the best."

      "Obviously, le t me grab my stuff, and I’ll head over to the firehouse. We’re making this scrapbook happen!"

"Perfect! Thanks, Stells. You’re a lifesaver, Nick owes you big time!"

       "Anything for Macy, I’ll be there soon!"

Joe snapped his phone shut, a big grin spreading across his face as he turned back to us.

"All right, scrapbook mission is a go!" He declared, his voice buzzing with the kind of excitement that usually means we're about to dive into something fun—and a little chaotic.

We all looked at each other, smirking because we knew exactly what kind of creative mess we were in for. There was a brief pause, everyone kind of soaking in the idea, maybe even starting to mentally pick out their favorite goofy photos and memories to include.

Breaking the quiet, Kevin, looking a bit like he just remembered something super important, turned to me.

"Hey, Nick, what were you trying to play earlier?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

It was like he could tell I'd been working on something more than just a few random chords.

"Oh, it was nothing, really," I said with a shrug, trying to play it cool but feeling the weight of every chord I'd played in private.

"No, it's never nothing Nick, not when it comes to you and music." Joe teased, knowing all too well how I pour my heart into every note.

"It was just a song I was working on," I admitted, a little hesitantly. "I've been missing Macy so much lately, and I just had to write about it."

"Can you play it for us?" Kevin asked, always giving me an out. "But only if you want to!" He added, making it clear that it was entirely my choice.

I paused, a moment of hesitation washing over me before I agreed, "Yeah, sure, why not?" As I turned back to the piano, the keys welcomed me like old friends, yet they different under my fingers—lighter, almost, as if sharing the burden of my feelings with Joe and Kevin had eased a little of my own load, like they knew this was no ordinary song.

I started to play, the melody slow and a bit sad, capturing all the mixed-up feelings I'd been dealing with lately. The chords were straightforward, but they packed a punch of emotion. As I sang the first lines, my voice came out a little rougher than normal:

'Cause this feeling's getting stronger everyday.

Gotta face the fact that I can't walk away.

I can't eat or sleep when you're not with me, baby, you're the air I breathe.

This is critical, yeah, so stuck on you.

I can't eat or sleep when you're not with me, baby, you're the air I breathe. 

This is critical, yeah, so stuck on you.

Used to run and hide, used to bend our love, but I can't escape this time - oh no!

As the final chords of "Critical" fade out, I let that last note hang in the air, kind of echoing around the room. Whispering, "Baby, it's so critical," it hits me—these words are more than just lyrics. They're like a wake-up call about everything going on with Macy and me.

I take my hands off the piano, letting the quiet settle in. Playing that song just pulls all these emotions out of me, laying bare my biggest worries and hopes for us.

It’s like a reality check, reminding me how much we're actually facing together and how deep I'm in this with her. Macy and I, what we have—it’s critical, it's everything. And I'm not about to stand by and let it slip through my fingers without fighting for it.

By the time I finished the song, the room felt charged with emotion. I looked up to see Joe and Kevin, both silent, their expressions serious but supportive.

"That was... powerful, Nick," Joe said quietly, clearly moved by the sincerity of the lyrics.

Kevin nodded in agreement. "That's not just a song, that's a message. You need to let her hear that, somehow. It might make a difference."

"Thanks, guys." I felt a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, appreciative of their support. "Maybe I can record it, or just sing it to her in person,"

"That’s perfect," Kevin agreed, clapping me on the back. "It adds a personal touch that her Mom can’t ignore. It's heartfelt, genuine. It’s you."

"Yeah, it could work," Joe added, thoughtful. "Music's always been how we connect with people, right? This could be your way to connect with both Macy and her mom."

"Let’s do it," I said, feeling more hopeful than I had in days. "Let’s put everything we have into this. If it’s going to be a grand gesture, let's make it the grandest gesture we’ve ever done."

With renewed energy and a clear plan in mind, we set to work, each of us determined to help mend the rift that had formed, using our strengths to show not just Macy, but also her Mom, the depth of my feelings and the sincerity of my intentions.

As the night went on, the vibe of teamwork and shared goals we had going felt like a real lifeline. Maybe, just maybe, with my brothers right there with me, I could actually flip this situation around. Whatever we ended up choosing to do, I knew I wouldn’t have to handle it all by myself, and that was a game changer.

With my brothers by my side, the task didn’t seem hopeless anymore. It felt possible, even likely, that we could turn things around. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Joe and Kevin’s encouragement and support, I was ready to face whatever came next.

The next morning, as sunlight peeked through the curtains, I rolled out of bed with a lot on my mind.

I wandered into the kitchen and whipped up a solid breakfast—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast loaded with butter. It definitely hit the spot and gave me a bit of a boost.

With my stomach full and my nerves somewhat calmed, I knew I couldn’t dodge it any longer—I had to talk to Macy’s Mom today. Not exactly what I wanted to do, but it was necessary to sort things out.

Taking a deep breath, I feel this determination kick in. I’ve poured my heart into that song, and now it’s time to step up for real. What Macy and I have is too important to just let slip away—I’ve gotta give it everything I’ve got.

I found a quiet corner where I could have some privacy, then pulled out my phone and dialed Macy's number, which I knew her Mom had at the moment. My heart pounded with nerves as I waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" Her voice came through, edged with caution.

"Ms. Misa, hi, it’s Nick Lucas," I began, trying to keep my voice calm and clear. "I know things have been really tough lately, and I understand why you’re worried about Macy and me."

There was a moment of silence on her end, and I held my breath.

"I’m not calling to just make excuses. I was hoping, maybe, you could come to the firehouse. My brothers and I want to explain everything and apologize for any misunderstanding, face to face. We all care about Macy a lot, and I care about being completely honest with you."

Her reply was tinged with suspicion. "You want me to come to the firehouse?"

"Yes, ma'am. It might sound a bit unusual, but we have something prepared that might help make things clearer. It’s important to us that you know the whole story, and see how much I care about Macy."

There was a pause, the line crackling with tension. "I’ll think about it. When are you suggesting?"

"Whenever works for you," I said quickly, hoping to keep the conversation going. "We can work around your schedule. We just really want the chance to explain."

Another pause, then a reluctant sigh. "Alright, Nick. I’ll can come by this afternoon - around 2 o'clock. But this is for Macy, understand? I’m not promising anything else."

"Thank you, Ms. Misa. We’ll be ready. I appreciate this—a lot," I replied, a mix of nervousness and relief washing over me.

After hanging up, I turned around to find Joe and Kevin watching me closely, searching for any hint of how the call went. "She’s coming this afternoon - 2 pm," I informed them, and instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with a tense energy.

"We’ve got just a few hours to make everything perfect," Kevin declared, his usual playful vibe swapped out for a serious, determined look.

Joe gave a firm nod. "Let’s make sure we do this right. For Macy."

As they got to work, I took a second to gather my thoughts. This wasn’t just another performance—it was a chance to make things right, not just for me, but for Macy too.

The firehouse had seen plenty of our performances, but this one carried more weight than any before. We weren’t just playing music—we were putting everything out there. Truth. Hope. Honesty.

As I prepared for what felt like the most important set of my life, I knew this wasn’t just about convincing her Mom. It was about proving that I was worthy of Macy’s trust—and maybe even her love.

Macy's POV 

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, gentle light across the living room, creating a soft glow that made everything feel a bit quieter, a bit softer. I caught Mom by the window, her gaze far away, like she was deep in thought or maybe somewhere else entirely. It seemed like the harshness of our argument from three days ago had faded, leaving her looking more reflective and somehow more vulnerable than before. I hesitated in the doorway, the memory of our last conversation hanging in the air around us, making me unsure of what to say next.

"Mom?" I called out softly, breaking the silence gently, unsure of how she'd react.

She turned slowly, her eyes searching my face as if trying to read the story the past few days had written there. With a quiet gesture, she motioned for me to sit beside her—an invitation I accepted hesitantly but gratefully. As I settled next to her, the distance that had grown between us seemed to shrink just a little.

"Macy, I've been too harsh," She started, her voice filled with regret and something else—maybe fear. "I’ve spent the day thinking about why I reacted so strongly. It wasn't just about the lie."

I nodded, encouraging her to continue, feeling the tightness in the air slowly start to loosen.

Taking a deep breath, she looked away, her eyes clouding with memories. "When I was your age, I thought I had found the perfect person in your father. He was charming, and everyone loved him. But over time, his true colours showed, and when he left, he didn't just leave me—he left all of us. And I was the one left to pick up the pieces."

Her voice cracked, revealing a fragility I rarely saw in her. "Seeing you with Nick... it scares me, Macy. He reminds me of your father, and I'm terrified that you'll end up hurt like I was—the kind of hurt that stays with you long after they're gone."

"I'm trying to protect you, not punish you," She continued, her gaze meeting mine, pleading for understanding. "I just can't stand the thought of you going through what I did."

"Mom, I get why you're scared," I said, my voice calm but firm. "But Nick isn't Dad. And I'm not you. What Nick and I have is real. We're learning from each other every day.

She paused, digesting my words, then slowly nodded. "I understand you're not me, and maybe I should give Nick a chance to prove he's different."

My heart lifted at her words, a flicker of hope sparking between us. "Maybe you could meet him, really talk to him. See why I care about him so much."

Mom sighed, a sound heavy with years of guarded emotions. "Maybe I should," she admitted. "And maybe I need to trust you more. You're making your own choices now. It’s time I learn to support them."

As she squeezed my hand, a gesture so full of love and hope, I felt a rush of gratitude and relief wash over me. This wasn't a full resolution, but it was a start—a chance for healing and understanding.

"Actually, Nick already took the first step," she revealed, her voice reflecting her surprise at his initiative. "He called me today, asking if I’d come to the firehouse to hear him out. He wants to apologize and explain everything in person. He sounded genuinely sincere, Macy."

Her tone was thoughtful, a soft curiosity peering through. "Going to the firehouse might be a good idea. I think it’s time I see for myself if he really is as different as you believe."

It wasn’t a definite yes, but it was a step in the right direction. And right now, that meant everything. This conversation, difficult as it was, had cracked open a door. Maybe, just maybe, we were both ready to step through it, together.

As the afternoon light faded, Mom finally nodded, her decision firm. "Okay, I'll go to the firehouse today. I want to hear what Nick has to say for himself, especially since he took the initiative to call."

Relief washed over me. "Thank you, Mom. It means a lot," I replied, grateful for her willingness to listen. "Nick really cares, and I think you'll see that."

She offered a small, reassuring smile, the tension visibly easing between us.

"Let's get this over with then," She said, standing up. "We might as well not drag it out."

2pm - the firehouse 

We drove to the firehouse in a quiet, almost nervous anticipation. My hands were clasped tightly in my lap, but I reached out to squeeze Mom’s hand, hoping to offer her even a little bit of reassurance. "It’ll be okay," I murmured. "We’re in this together."

She gave a small, tight nod, but I could tell she was still guarded. As we pulled into the parking lot, my stomach twisted at the sight of Nick standing outside, waiting. His posture was tense, but his expression was open—nervous, but hopeful. He ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he wasn’t sure how something was going to go.

The moment we stopped, he stepped forward and opened the door for Mom. "Ms. Misa, thank you for coming," He said, his voice warm but careful. He glanced at me briefly, as if checking to see if I was okay, before looking back at her. "I really appreciate you giving me this chance to explain."

Mom gave him a nod—not unfriendly, but still guarded. She wasn’t sold yet, but at least she was here. That was something.

As we stepped inside, I wasn’t just greeted by Joe and Kevin—but also Nick’s parents. My eyes widened slightly. This wasn’t just a casual conversation. This was serious.

Joe, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward first, his usual easygoing energy slightly subdued. "We’re glad you could make it," He said, offering Mom his hand. "It really means a lot to Nick."

Mom hesitated for only a second before shaking it, nodding in acknowledgment.

Then Sandy stepped forward, her presence as calming as ever. "We wanted to be here too, Ms. Misa," She said gently, her voice kind but firm. "To show our support for Nick and Macy."

Tom nodded in agreement, his tone steady as he added, "Hopefully, we can clear everything up today."

I glanced at Nick, who was standing tall, but I could see the way his fingers fidgeted slightly at his side. He wanted this to go well. He needed this to go well. And honestly? So did I.

Mom took a breath and squared her shoulders. "All right," She said, looking around the room. "Then let’s talk."

Nick's POV

The firehouse was set up just right—simple, welcoming, and comfortable. The chairs were arranged in a small circle, and we’d even set up a side table with refreshments, hoping to make things feel a little less formal, a little less intimidating. I wanted Ms. Misa to see that this wasn’t some big performance or overly rehearsed speech. It was just us, trying to make things right.

Stella was there too, and honestly, I was grateful for it. She had a way of making everything feel more put together, adding those little touches that made the space feel even more inviting. Plus, knowing she had my back helped more than I wanted to admit.

As Ms. Misa took a seat, I took a steadying breath, knowing this conversation was more important than anything else right now. Kevin and Joe stood by my side, ready to back me up—not just as my brothers, but as my bandmates, making sure their role in everything was clear.

"Ms. Misa, first off, thank you for coming today. It really means a lot that you’re willing to hear us out," I began, keeping my voice steady even though my heart felt like it was doing drum fills in my chest. "There’s been a big mix-up about the song and Macy’s involvement in it, and we all regret how things turned out."

I paused, giving a quick glance to Kevin, who picked up right where I left off. "Macy’s got a real passion for music, and hurting her was never the goal. She means so much to us."

He looked at Ms. Misa sincerely, his tone calm but serious. "The truth is, we weren’t sure about her singing part. We thought we’d let her record it, but not actually use it. Not to trick or embarrass her, but to spare her feelings."

Joe stepped in next, his voice laced with regret. "But that was the wrong call. We should have been honest from the start instead of making a decision for her. Macy means a lot to us, and seeing her upset has been hard. We messed up, and we’re really sorry."

I nodded along as my brothers spoke, the weight of their words matching the weight in my chest. "Looking back, I see how unfair our approach was. It wasn’t honest. Macy had to find out by overhearing us, and I can only imagine how that must have felt. I’m really sorry for that. She deserved the truth from the beginning."

Stella, standing beside me, chimed in, "Macy’s enthusiasm is something we all love about her. None of us wanted this to be a reason she stops chasing what she loves."

I glanced at her, grateful for the backup, then turned back to Ms. Misa. My voice softened, but I meant every word. "I really care about Macy. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. What we have is real, and I hate that my actions made her—or you—question that."

Taking a deep breath, I added, "This whole thing has taught me a lot about honesty and integrity. In music, in relationships… in everything. I’m here because I want to set things right. And I hope we can move forward with a foundation of honesty and respect."

I kept my eyes on Ms. Misa, watching her carefully. She was listening. Really listening. I could see the skepticism in her eyes—the way she was weighing every word, every intention—but as we spoke, I noticed something shift. The sharpness in her gaze softened, just slightly.

"Ms. Misa," I continued, my voice steady, "I understand why you’re protective of Macy. And I get that my words alone might not be enough to ease your concerns. But I want to prove to you that I’m not just saying this. That I mean it. I want to show you that I respect Macy—and you. And that I want to do right by her."

The room went quiet, the weight of the moment settling over all of us. I waited, watching as Ms. Misa processed everything, her expression unreadable.

Then, just as I was about to brace myself for whatever she was going to say, Dad cleared his throat gently.

"Ms. Misa," He said, his tone careful and respectful, "would you mind if Sandy and I spoke with you privately for a moment? Just the three of us?"

Ms. Misa hesitated, her eyes flicking to Macy, searching for reassurance. Macy met her gaze and gave a small nod—one that didn’t need words but said everything: It’s okay. Hear them out.

After a brief pause, Ms. Misa turned back to my parents, still cautious but no longer closed off. "Of course," She said, standing up. Then, after a moment, she looked at Macy. "Come, Macy."

Macy glanced at me, her expression unreadable for a second before she stood to follow her mom.

As they walked away, I let out a slow breath, my hands tightening around the edge of my chair. I glanced at Joe, Kevin, and Stella, trying to read their thoughts, but we were all feeling the same thing—this wasn’t over yet.

But for the first time in days, it felt like, maybe, we were finally getting somewhere.

Macy's POV

Nick's POV

As Ms. Misa followed my parents to a quieter part of the firehouse, I glanced at Joe, Kevin, and Stella and nodded toward the stairs. "Let’s go upstairs," I said quietly, leading the way to my room.

The old wooden steps creaked beneath our feet, almost like they could feel the tension hanging in the air. None of us said much on the way up, but we didn’t really need to. Everything about this moment—the waiting, the uncertainty, the hope—said enough.

Once upstairs, I sank onto my bed, dragging a hand through my hair, my mind racing with everything that had happened, everything that still needed to happen. I had no idea what my parents were saying to Ms. Misa right now, but I could only hope it was helping.

When we finally pulled back just enough to look at each other, I saw everything in her eyes—hope, relief, a little worry about what came next. I squeezed her hands, grounding both of us. "We’re gonna make it through this," I promised, steady and certain. "Together."

Macy nodded, her smile small but real, like she believed it too.

Joe, Kevin, and Stella were watching with quiet smiles, knowing exactly how much this moment meant.

Stella stepped forward, offering Macy an encouraging look. "Your Mom’s taking everything in, Macy. That’s a really good sign."

Macy let out a breath, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. "Thanks for doing this, guys. For being honest about everything."

I didn’t even think about it—I just reached for her hand again, needing that connection. The second our fingers intertwined, something shifted, like we were making a silent promise to each other. "I care about you, Macy. A lot. We all do. We just want to make things right."

Joe nodded, his tone warm and genuine. "We’re all here for you, Macy."

Kevin added, his voice steady and reassuring, "Absolutely. We’re a team. We’re going to get through this together."

Macy’s smile grew, hesitant but full of trust. "I really appreciate it, guys."

She squeezed my hand, and in that tiny moment, something inside me clicked. Whatever came next—whatever challenges, whatever conversations, whatever we still had to face—we weren’t facing it alone.

We were in this together. And I wasn’t letting go.

Macy's POV

"Kids, you can come down now!"

The sound of Mrs. Lucas’s voice made my stomach flip.

Taking a deep breath, I followed Stella, Kevin, Joe, and Nick back downstairs, into the living room. Mom was sitting in one of the chairs, her posture still a little stiff, but she didn’t look as guarded as before. Her eyes flicked to me briefly, and for a split second, I swore I saw something soften.

Nick glanced at me too, his nervous smile doing a terrible job of hiding the tension in his shoulders.

"Ms. Misa," He started, voice steady but laced with nerves, "there’s something else we wanted to share with you. We put together a scrapbook and a slideshow. It’s not just about Macy and me—it’s about all of us, our memories, and how much she’s a part of this group."

Joe grinned, proudly holding up the scrapbook like it was a trophy. "This was my idea," He declared.

Stella immediately rolled her eyes, but her smirk gave her away. "Joe’s idea was the glitter," She corrected. "I did all the actual work."

Joe gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d personally attacked him. "It gave the cover flair!"

And then—oh my gosh. Mom’s lips twitched. Just barely. But I saw it.

Kevin stepped forward, motioning toward the small projector set up in the corner. "And this slideshow? Totally my thing. Maybe I went overboard with the star wipes, but come on, they scream ‘theatrical masterpiece.’"

"Way too many star wipes," Stella muttered, flipping open the scrapbook as Kevin dimmed the lights and hit play.

The first photo lit up the wall—a shot of me and Nick at one of our school performances. I was beaming, tambourine in hand, while Nick stood beside me mid-song, his guitar slung over his shoulder.

"Look at that smile," Stella said softly, glancing at Mom. "She lights up every time she’s with them."

The slideshow moved on, each photo stirring up memories of laughter, chaos, and pure joy. There were pictures of me and the guys during rehearsals, joking around in the cafeteria, even running around on the soccer field. One of my favorites showed Stella and me sitting cross-legged at the firehouse, laughing so hard we were practically falling over.

Stella handed Mom the scrapbook as the slideshow continued. "I’ve been collecting these for a while," she said quietly. "It’s full of little memories and notes about how much Macy means to all of us."

Mom hesitated, then finally opened the book. The first page had a goofy picture of Stella and me making faces. Beneath it, in Stella’s loopy handwriting, were the words: Best partner-in-crime ever. Love, Stella.

My stomach twisted as she kept flipping through.

Each page held something different—a note, a memory, a moment that made me feel seen. Nick had written about how I always made him laugh during stressful rehearsals. Joe’s page was about the time I accidentally hit him in the face with an orange while trying to teach him to juggle.

"Classic Macy," Joe piped up, grinning. "She felt so bad she brought me an ice pack shaped like a penguin and said, ‘This will fix your face.’"

Kevin chuckled, pointing at another page. "Oh, and this one! Remember when Macy baked cookies for band practice but used salt instead of sugar?"

Mom’s eyebrows lifted slightly. I swear, I saw the tiniest flicker of amusement break through her cautious expression.

"She told me those cookies turned out perfect," Mom said, her tone skeptical but amused.

"Oh, they were memorable," Kevin confirmed, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. "We still talk about them."

The slideshow ended with a group photo of all of us at the firehouse. I was right in the center, arms slung around Stella and Nick, the biggest smile on my face. Beneath it, in bold letters, were the words: We love you, Macy.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Nick stepped forward, his voice quiet but certain. "Ms. Misa, we wanted to show you that Macy isn’t just our classmate—she’s a part of our lives. She’s our friend, our family. And I care about her more than I can put into words."

Mom closed the scrapbook, her fingers lingering on the glittery cover. Her gaze shifted from Nick to the rest of the group, then finally to me.

"You’ve all put a lot of effort into showing me this," she said, her voice quieter now. "It’s clear Macy means a lot to you."

"She does," Nick said simply. "And we know trust takes time, but we’re willing to earn it—however long it takes."

The room fell silent, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.

Mom hesitated, her fingers still resting on the scrapbook cover as she looked around the room. I could see the wheels turning in her head, weighing everything she’d just seen and heard. The slideshow, the scrapbook, the ridiculous (but endearing) star wipes—none of it was for show. It was real. It was us. And, for the first time, I felt like she was actually seeing that.

Mom didn’t speak right away. She just looked at Nick, like she was trying to see past everything she was afraid of. Then, finally, after what felt like forever, she nodded.

Her expression softened. Just a little. But enough.

"Thank you for this," she said, her voice unreadable but not cold. "It’s going to take me some time, but… I can see how much Macy is loved here. And that’s a good start."

Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Joe let out a triumphant yes!, Kevin grinned like he’d just won a game show, and Stella pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

And then there was Nick.

His shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension melting away as he met my gaze with a warm, genuine smile.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the resolution I’d dreamed of.

But it was something.

And for the first time in days, I felt it—hope. Hope for me and Mom. Hope for Nick and me. Hope for this little family I’d somehow found along the way.

Suddenly, Mrs. Lucas spoke up, her voice warm and inviting. "Ms. Misa, Tom, the boys and I would really love it if you and Macy stayed for dinner," She said with a smile. "I've been begging Nick to have Macy over for one of my famous spaghetti nights, and somehow, it’s never happened."

When Sandy invited us to stay for dinner, excitement bubbled up inside me. I’d heard so much about her famous spaghetti nights, but somehow, I had never actually experienced one. The way everyone talked about them, you’d think they were a life-changing event.

Nick groaned, rolling his eyes, but his smirk gave him away. "Mom, you bring this up every time."

"Because it’s rude that you’ve kept her from experiencing the greatest spaghetti in the world," Mrs. Lucas shot back playfully.

Kevin gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "It’s true. No one leaves a Sandy Lucas dinner night unchanged."

Joe nodded solemnly. "Legend has it that if you have her spaghetti once, you dream about it forever."

I laughed, shaking my head at their antics. Even Mom let out a quiet huff that was dangerously close to a chuckle. Dangerously close.

Nick rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. "Okay, fine. Maybe the spaghetti is that good."

I glanced at Mom, hopeful but unsure. Would she actually say yes? She hesitated, her gaze moving between me, Mrs. Lucas, and the boys. I could tell she was still feeling things out, still guarded, but the tension that had been in her shoulders earlier was no longer as sharp.

"You don’t have to say yes," Nick added, his voice softer now. "But we’d really love for you to stay."

I held my breath, watching her closely. She let out a slow sigh, then glanced at me, searching my face for something. I wasn’t sure what—reassurance, maybe? Permission? Whatever it was, I gave her a hopeful smile, silently pleading for her to say yes.

The room went quiet for a beat, all eyes on Mom. She let out a slow breath, then met my gaze.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she sighed. "One dinner," She said, pointing at Mrs. Lucas. "And I’ll be the judge of this ‘famous’ spaghetti... if it’s not too much trouble, Macy and I would love to stay, right, Macy?"

"Yes!" I answered way too fast, but I didn’t care. "Very much so."

A wave of relief spread through the room.

"Perfect!" Sandy clapped her hands, already heading toward the kitchen. "I’ll get started right away! Would you like to keep me company while I cook?"

Mom hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Sure, I’d love to."

Mrs. Lucas beamed. "Perfect! Macy, you’re finally in for a treat!"

Joe fist-pumped the air. "Victory!"

Kevin clapped his hands together. "Someone set the table. I’m so ready for this."

Stella nudged me with a smirk. "See? Told you your Mom couldn’t resist the Lucas family charm."

Nick caught my eye, and for the first time in days, his expression was completely free of tension. Just warmth. Just him. He leaned in closer, a cheeky grin on his face. "You’re about to experience the best spaghetti on the East Coast. Just wait."

"Looking forward to it," I whispered back, feeling something warm settle in my chest.

As we waited in the living room, the cozy warmth of the house wrapped around me like a hug. The air was filled with the comforting sounds of cooking, laughter, and easy conversation. Mom, who had started the night so tense and guarded, now sat with Joe, Kevin, and Stella, smiling—laughing, even—at Joe’s ridiculous jokes.

The delicious smell of garlic and tomatoes drifted from the kitchen, promising a meal that was already becoming legendary in my mind.

And me? I just sat there, taking it all in. For the first time in days, everything felt… right.

Because this—this—felt like home. And I hoped, more than anything, that Mom could see it too.

As I looked around the room—at my friends, at my family—I felt something settle in my chest. It wasn’t a full resolution. Not yet.

But it was something.

And it was enough.

Nick's POV

Dinner had been easy—easier than I expected. Laughter, stories, teasing from my brothers, my Mom fussing over whether Macy had enough to eat… it was filled with that perfect post-meal kind of energy—relaxed, warm, comfortable.

Mom was still chatting with Mrs. Misa in the kitchen, Joe was dramatically reenacting some scene from a movie for Kevin and Stella, and Macy…

Macy was right next to me.

She was laughing at something Stella said, but I could see it—how much lighter she looked. How the tension she’d carried for days had started to fade.

But even with all of that, I knew there was one thing left I needed to do.

So, as the dishes were being cleared, I stood up, brushing my hands against my jeans, and glanced at Macy. "Come upstairs with me?"

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. "What for?"

Instead of answering, I just grabbed her hand, pulling her gently toward the stairs. She didn’t hesitate—just followed me without question, like she trusted me. That alone made my chest feel tight in the best way.

"Where are they going?" Joe asked, watching us with interest.

I sighed. "Upstairs. I want to play something for Macy."

I had really been hoping for a quiet moment, just the two of us, but of course, Joe took that as an invitation to everyone.

"Ooooh," he grinned. "A concert? I’m in."

Before I could stop them, Kevin, Stella, and my entire family were already standing.

Macy laughed softly, squeezing my hand. "I guess it’s a full audience now."

I let out a breath, glancing toward Ms. Misa, half-expecting her to say no—to shut it down before I even got the chance to try.

But to my surprise, she simply nodded. "Go ahead."

So I led Macy up the stairs, the rest of them trailing behind.

The piano sat in its usual spot, the dim glow of the lamp making the keys shine. I took a breath, running my fingers lightly over them before sitting down.

Everyone settled in—Joe and Kevin leaned against the wall, Stella perched on the armrest of the couch, my parents took the other chairs, and Ms. Misa…

She stood close by, arms crossed, watching.

I glanced up at Macy, my chest tightening at how she was looking at me—curious, warm, open.

"Nick?”

“There’s something I need to do.” I looked up at her, taking a breath. "This is for you," I told her softly.

Then, without giving myself the chance to overthink it, I started playing.

The first notes filled the space, the slow, deliberate melody wrapping around the room. The moment I started singing, the energy shifted.

There’s a storm coming up, and I gotta prepare myself, ‘Cause this feeling’s getting stronger every day.

I didn’t look at anyone else. Just Macy.

Something’s creeping inside, everything is about to change, gotta face the fact that I can’t walk away…

I saw her chest rise and fall with a deep breath. She knew. She knew exactly what I was saying.

This is critical, I’m feeling helpless,

So hysterical, this can’t be healthy.

I can’t eat or sleep when you’re not with me, baby, you’re the air I breathe.

The song was raw—more raw than I even expected. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

This was everything I had been feeling. Every moment I missed her, every second I had spent worrying, every ounce of love I had for her but didn’t know how to say.

As I sang, the silence from the room became deafening. No jokes from Joe. No teasing from Kevin. No interruptions.

Just me, the music, and Macy.

Used to have everything figured out, 

But it’s different now…

When you came, you saw, y ou conquered my heart…

I stole a glance at Joe, expecting some kind of smirk, but he wasn’t joking anymore. His expression was serious, thoughtful. He looked moved.

Stella had a hand pressed to her chest, blinking a little too quickly, like she was fighting back emotions she didn’t expect to have.

My parents? My Mom was smiling, soft and proud, while my Dad watched with an unreadable expression—one that, after all these years, I knew meant he was impressed.

Kevin had his arms crossed, nodding slightly, like he was really listening—not just to the words, but to what I meant.

Kev's POV

I stood off to the side, watching as Nick poured every bit of himself into his song for Macy.

Something about it hit me harder than I expected. Maybe it was how sure he sounded. How willing he was to lay it all out, to fight for her without hesitation.

And suddenly, I couldn’t ignore the feeling creeping up in my chest.

Hadn’t I been avoiding my own feelings for long enough?

Joe nudged me with his elbow, smirking. "Nick’s really in deep, huh?"

I nodded absentmindedly, but my mind wasn’t on Nick anymore. It was on Danielle. On how much time we’d wasted just floating in this undefined space.

Maybe I’d been so busy helping my brothers figure things out, I’d ignored what I wanted for myself.

And now?

Maybe it was time I finally did something about it.

Nick's POV

Then I turned my gaze toward Ms. Misa.

She wasn’t just watching anymore—she was feeling it. Her arms were no longer crossed, her expression no longer guarded.

Her lips were pressed together tightly, her eyes locked onto Macy as if she was seeing her in a whole new way.

And suddenly, I realized—this wasn’t just about us.

This was about her.

This was about a mother realizing just how much her daughter was loved.

This is critical, I’m feeling helpless

So hysterical, this can’t be healthy…

My voice grew stronger, my fingers pressing harder against the keys.

Because I wanted her to understand.

I wasn’t just a guy who liked her daughter - I loved Macy.

I wasn’t someone who would hurt her - I was someone who would fight for her.

I poured every bit of that into the final chorus, my voice steady, my heart in every single word.

I can’t eat or sleep when you’re not with me

Baby, you’re the air I breathe…

I let the last note hang in the air, the weight of it settling over the entire room.

Then, silence.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Macy’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, like she was trying to process everything, then she took a step forward. Then another. Until, suddenly, she was right in front of me.

I barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around me. Letting out a exhale, I dropped my forehead to her shoulder as I held onto her just as tightly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, quietly, she whispered, “That was beautiful.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hands still resting on her waist. “I meant every word.”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, she just looked at me—like she was trying to memorize everything about this moment.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever hear you sing again,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Not for me, at least.”

I swallowed, brushing my thumb lightly over the back of her hand. “You’ll always have my music, Mace. Always.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, a single tear slipping down her cheek. I reached up to wipe it away, and instead of pulling back, she leaned into my touch.

Then - a small sniffle.

I turned my head just in time to see Stella wipe at her eye before casually looking away, like she wasn’t just a second away from fully crying.

Joe let out a low whistle. "Wow," He said, shaking his head. "I almost cried, dude. Almost."

Kevin just smiled, crossing his arms. "That was real, Nick."

My Mom beamed, looking way too pleased with herself. "See, Ms. Misa? I told you Nick was a romantic!"

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. "That was impressive, son."

But the reaction that mattered most?

Ms. Misa.

She inhaled sharply, her gaze flicking between me and Macy. And then, slowly, slowly, Ms. Misa exhaled.

"You really love her," She murmured, so quietly I barely heard it.

I swallowed hard, standing up from the piano, my hands slightly shaky. "Yeah," I admitted. "I do."

She let out a slow breath, but her expression didn’t soften yet. Instead, she glanced at Macy, something flickering in her gaze—something deeper, something weighted with old wounds.

"I loved someone once," she said quietly, her voice holding something fragile. "And I believed, with every part of me, that he loved me too. Until one day, he walked away—left me to pick up the pieces. And when that happens, Nick, it doesn’t just hurt. It changes you."

Her words hit like a gut punch.

I didn’t move. I let them sink in, because I knew—this wasn’t just about me and Macy. This was about the past she carried, the fears that shaped how she protected her daughter.

"I understand why you’re scared," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But I’m not him. And I never will be. I don’t run when things get hard—I fight for what matters. And Macy? She matters."

For the first time, something in her walls cracked. I saw it. The hesitation, the war between fear and hope.

She nodded, glancing at Macy, her expression unreadable—but not closed off. "And you want her to go on tour with you?"

I hesitated, glancing at Macy, who was still looking at me like I had completely shattered her world in the best way.

"Only if she wants to," I said honestly. "But I know what it looks like when someone doesn’t belong in my world. And Macy? She does."

Ms. Misa looked at Macy for a long moment.

And then, with a deep breath, she turned back to me.

"If I say yes," She said carefully, her voice softer now, "I need to know you’ll take care of her. That you’ll protect her. That this isn’t just a song to you."

I met her gaze without hesitation. "It’s not just a song. It’s everything."

The pause stretched just a second longer than before. Then—finally—she nodded.

"Okay."

Macy let out a small gasp, her hand covering her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.

And me?

I felt everything.

Relief. Gratitude. The overwhelming, undeniable truth that this moment had changed everything.

I turned back to Macy, my heart racing.

"So?" I whispered. "What do you say?"

A tear slipped down her cheek as she smiled.

"I say…" She breathed.

Then she launched forward, wrapping her arms around me again.

And I already knew the answer.

After everything that had happened tonight—Macy, the song, Ms. Misa finally trusting me—it felt like a weight had been lifted. Macy and her Mom finally decided to head home, both smiling, while Joe and I stood in the driveway, waving goodbye. But just as I turned to go back inside, I caught a glimpse of Kevin slipping out the back door.

I frowned, exchanging a glance with Joe, who raised an eyebrow. “Where’s he going?”

I shrugged. “No idea.”

Joe smirked. “Well, considering how much time he’s spent meddling in our love lives, I’d say it’s about time we return the favor.”

I sighed, but curiosity got the best of me. Without another word, we followed him.

We found Kevin standing outside on the back porch, phone in hand, a look on his face I hadn’t seen in a long time—like he was nervous, but in a good way.

“Calling Dani?” Joe teased, leaning against the railing.

Kevin jumped slightly, scowling. “Do you guys ever mind your own business?”

Joe and I exchanged a look. “Nope,” We said in unison.

Kevin rolled his eyes, but instead of brushing us off, he let out a breath and shook his head. He looked down at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen like he wasn’t sure what to do next. Then he spoke.

“I just… I realized something tonight.”

Joe and I stayed quiet, waiting.

Kevin ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent so much time helping you guys figure things out with Stella and Macy. And it hit me—why am I not fighting for what I want? Why am I just… letting things with Danielle be whatever, when I know I want more?”

Joe grinned. “Wow. Our big brother is finally learning from us.”

Kevin shot him a look. “Don’t get used to it.”

I smirked. “So, what are you gonna do?”

Kevin hesitated, then glanced at his phone. “I’m gonna go see her.”

Joe clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “Atta boy! Go get your girl!” Then he gasped dramatically. “Wait—do you need me to cue dramatic background music for your big moment?”

Kevin groaned, pushing Joe Away. “I swear, one day I’m gonna get through a serious conversation without you turning it into a Joke.”

Joe grinned. “Unlikely.”

I crossed my arms, watching Kevin carefully. “You really think this could be it?”

Kevin looked up, his expression more serious than before. “Yeah. I do.”

And for the first time all night, I realized—this wasn’t just some fleeting crush.

This was Kevin choosing her. Choosing something real.

And honestly? I’d never seen him so sure of anything before.

Kev's POV

I sat in my car outside the firehouse, gripping my phone a little too tightly as I stared at Danielle’s name on the screen. My thumb hovered over the call button.

Just call her, Kevin. You’re a grown man. You’ve played in front of thousands of people. This is easy.

Except it wasn’t.

Because this wasn’t just a call. This was me deciding—no more overthinking, no more waiting. No more excuses, and just go for it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I hit dial.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then—

“Kevin?” Danielle’s voice came through, warm and familiar, making my heartbeat pick up instantly.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound way more casual than I felt. “Uh… are you busy right now?”

There was a small pause, then a curious, “Not really. Why?”

I took a breath. “I want to see you.”

There was a tiny pause, like she was processing what I’d just said. Then—
“Yeah?” she said, her voice surprised but… happy. Hopeful.

“Yeah,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “I just—I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I realized I don’t want to let any more time pass without saying what I need to say.”

Another pause, but this time, I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Okay. Meet me at Richardson park?”

Relief flooded my chest. “I’ll be there in ten.”

I hung up, exhaling hard before starting the car. My hands tightened around the wheel, steady now.

This was it.

And I wasn’t going to screw it up.

The drive to the park felt both too long and too short at the same time. My hands tightened around the steering wheel, my mind racing through everything I wanted to say.

Just be honest. Be yourself. She already likes you, you idiot.

When I pulled up, I spotted Danielle sitting on the swings, gently rocking back and forth. She had a soft smile on her face as she glanced up at the stars, looking peaceful—like she belonged in this exact moment.

And man, she was beautiful.

I took a deep breath, climbed out of the car, and made my way toward her. She turned at the sound of my footsteps, her eyes lighting up when she saw me.

“Wow,” She teased, tilting her head. “You actually showed up.”

I let out a breathy chuckle, sliding my hands into my pockets. “I did. And I’m guessing that means you thought I wouldn’t?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “I hoped you would.”

Without thinking twice, I sat down on the swing next to her, gripping the chains.

She nudged me lightly with her foot, her swing swaying slightly. “So,” She teased, “you finally took my hint and called me, huh?”

I let out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hands. “Yeah. Sorry it took me so long.”

She smiled, but there was something different about it—something deeper. “Worth the wait.”

I let the quiet settle around us for a second before I sighed. “It’s been a while since we actually hung out like this.” I turned my head to look at her. “Feels kind of crazy, doesn’t it?”

Danielle tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Yeah… I guess we’ve both been busy.”

“Too busy,” I admitted. “I hate that we let so much time pass.”

She gave me a small, understanding smile. “I get it, Kev. You’ve got the band, the tour, everything. And I’ve been caught up in work, too.” She exhaled, kicking at the dirt beneath her feet. “But, yeah. I missed this.”

My chest tightened.

I missed this too.

More than I had let myself realize.

“I know I’m about to leave for tour,” I started, exhaling slowly, “and I know that means things might get complicated, but…” I hesitated, running a hand through my hair.

Danielle waited, patient as ever.

“Look, I—” I let out a breath, shaking my head with a small laugh. “God, why is this so hard? I can stand on stage in front of thousands of people, but talking to you right now? I feel like a total idiot.”

Danielle’s lips curved into a soft, amused smile. “You’re not an idiot, Kevin.”

“Debatable,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “But, uh, what I’m trying to say is… I don’t want to leave without knowing where we stand. Without knowing that—"

“That we’re something?” She finished, tilting her head.

I nodded, letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I guess I’ve been so caught up helping Joe and Nick figure out their own love lives, I kind of… avoided my own.”

She tilted her head, smiling slightly. “And what exactly were you avoiding?”

My expression grew serious, the teasing fading into something deeper. “You.”

Danielle’s breath hitched slightly, and I could see the slight shift in her posture—like she hadn’t expected me to say it quite like that. But she didn’t say anything. She just let me talk.

“I was scared, Dani. Not because I didn’t want this, but because I did,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve never met someone who gets me the way you do. Someone who makes me want to think about the future instead of just the next tour or the next album.” I exhaled, my fingers gripping the swing’s chains.

Her eyes searched mine, her swing barely moving now.

“Because if I’ve learned anything from watching Nick fight for Macy, or Joe going full rom-com over Stella, it’s that when something means something to you, you don’t let it go.” I swallowed hard. “And, Dani, you mean something to me.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, lips parted like she was trying to find the right words.

Her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if she should.

I swallowed. “And the truth is, I don’t want to just hope that we’ll pick things back up after tour. I want to know that we will. That this isn’t just some summer thing. And I know things are going to get crazy when I leave for tour, and I know it won’t always be easy. But I don’t want that to be a reason not to try… I want to figure it out. Together.”

She inhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the swing’s chains.

For a second, I thought maybe I’d said too much.

Then, suddenly, she let go of the chains completely and wrapped her arms around me.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, hugging her back just as tightly, feeling everything settle into place.

When she pulled back, she laughed, shaking her head as she reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Kevin,” She said, voice light but full of something deeper, something real. “You big dork.”

I blinked. “Uh… what?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long.”

A rush of relief, mixed with something even better, flooded my chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed my hand.

I felt my heart leap.

“Let’s do it,” She said, her voice steady, sure. “Let’s keep in touch, make it work. I don’t care how far apart we are. As long as we’re in this together.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “So… we’re really doing this?”

She grinned. “We’re really doing this.”

And just like that, it felt like everything had fallen into place.

I looked down at our joined hands before smirking slightly. “So… does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

Danielle raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, let me rephrase.” I lifted our hands, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Danielle, would you officially be my girlfriend?”

She pretended to think, tapping her chin. “Hmm. Well, since you finally figured out your feelings… yeah, I think I will.”

I grinned, unable to stop the warm feeling spreading through my chest. “Guess that makes us official, huh?”

Danielle rolled her eyes, laughing. “You need a label, don’t you?”

I smirked. “I like calling you my girlfriend.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head in amusement before finally saying, “Good. Because I like calling you my boyfriend.”

I exhaled a small laugh, pulling her just a little closer. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go anyway.”

She sighed dramatically. “Took you long enough.”

I chuckled, resting my cheek lightly against the top of her head, letting the quiet of the night settle around us.

Yeah.

This was right.

And no matter how crazy things got, I knew one thing for sure—Danielle and I were in this together.

Nick's POV

By the time Kevin got back, it was late. Joe and I were still awake, lounging in the living room, pretending to watch a movie but mostly just waiting to see how things went.

When Kevin walked in, we both sat up.

“Well?” Joe asked eagerly. “How’d it go? Are you engaged? Did she cry? Was there dramatic background music?”

Kevin rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “It went good,” he admitted, sinking into the couch. “We talked. About us, about the future. And… we decided we want to make this work. We’re gonna stay in touch over the tour, see where things go.”

I grinned. “So… she’s your girlfriend now?”

Kevin hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah. She is.”
A small smile tugged at his lips, the kind that said this wasn’t just some casual thing—it mattered.

Joe let out a loud cheer, throwing his arms in the air. “FINALLY!”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Seriously, man. Took you long enough.”

Kevin just smirked. “Hey, at least I didn’t need an elaborate song to figure out my feelings.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but—fair point.

“Okay, ouch,” I muttered, throwing a pillow at him.

Joe sighed dramatically. “Ah, young love. I feel like we should toast or something.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Go to bed, Joe.”

Joe grinned, standing up. “Gladly. I’ve done the impossible—Kevin is dating. My legacy is complete.”

I watched as he disappeared up the stairs before turning back to Kevin. “You really happy?”

Kevin exhaled, his smirk softening into something real. “Yeah, Nick. I really am.”

I nodded, leaning back into the couch, letting the weight of everything settle. Somehow, in the chaos of this summer—the music, the mistakes, the moments that changed everything—we’d all found what we were looking for.

All three of us had somehow figured out our love lives. And as that realization sank in, I couldn’t help but smile.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like exactly where we were meant to be.

Like the final note of a song, the moment settled—certain, whole.

Love, music, family—it was all falling into place.