Page 76 of The Ballad of Us
We’re all in stitches by the time the two finish telling the story together. Gray holds his sides like they hurt from laughing too much. “How in the hell did you get the horse in your hotel room?”
“Freight elevator, bruh.” Amusement dances in Kip’s eyes. “Anyway, Leslie and I met when he coordinated an event for the label we own in Atlanta several years back. He took one look at me and decided I was a hell of a specimen, and while he can’t have my body, he can have a friendship with me.”
Leslie bats his lashes in disbelief. “I never said you were one hell of a specimen. I believe the word I used to describe you was ‘lunatic’.”
“Leslie has a gift for seeing potential in people. He walked into our recording studio for the first time and saw everything it could become.” Gray shares a brief little backstory about how we befriended Leslie.
“Speaking of which, we'd love to see it tomorrow if you're up for giving us a tour,” Henley directs her words to me.
Even after spending half the afternoon and evening with her, I still can’t believe I’m sitting around all casual-like, talking to Henley Hendrix like she isn’t a legend in the blues and rock worlds.
We all work together to help Leslie cook our dinner. I see Henley pause, smiling and intently dialing into Kip's stories. Gray and Kip join in, and soon we're all sharing stories and laughter as we prepare a meal. While we pass dishes, Gray gives me a look that quietly says, “Look how far we've come.” This small moment of working together shows the spirit of our village, where everyone helps, and even simple chores become a task to enjoy. Our village is more than a place. Dogwood Hollow is a community revolving around shared efforts and care. We're surrounded by people who have chosen to be family, all connected by the land and the work we do together.
“Thank you for tonight, for this weekend, and for everything you've brought to our village,” I tell Leslie as Gray and I prepare to leave.
“Suga Boo Boo, this village saved me just as much as I've helped it. Sometimes the best thing you can do is find your people and love them as loudly as possible.”
Walking back to my apartment with Gray's hand in mine, I think about Xavier's words about taking care of ourselves first so we can take care of each other. For the first time in years, I feel like we've found that balance.
We're not just surviving anymore. We're thriving.
Looking ahead, I know new challenges and surprises will give us joy and make us stronger. The band tour brings new opportunities, but also time apart, which might be tough. We might expand the studio—exciting, but it is a little scary due to costs. There will be difficulties, but we’re ready to face whatever comes next together.
Shyness creeps in as I lean over and ask him, “Do you want to stay the night?”
A knowing grin spreads across his lips as he leans in and answers, “And wake up with you in my arms? Yeah, baby, I want nothing more right now.” Pressing a kiss on my lips, he lingers there for a long moment, searching my eyes and face. “I love you, Rhea.”
“I love you, too, Gray.”
Twenty-Five
GRAY
“I'm telling you guys, this song is going to be the death of me.” My pencil scratches across the worn pages of my notebook. The fifteenth draft of “The Ballad of Us” stares back at me, still not quite right. The studio air feels thick, making it even harder to find the right chords. I've rewritten the bridge so many times I'm starting to dream in chord progressions. It's tough to find the right emotion without losing what makes the song special.
“That's not necessarily a bad thing. Remember when you dreamed entirely in drumbeats for three weeks after we recorded 'Thunder Road'?” Andrew says from behind the mixing board, where he's been adjusting levels for the past hour with the intense focus of a surgeon.
“Drumbeats don't have emotional weight. This song has to be perfect,” I remind my brother.
“Define perfect,” Parker challenges, spinning his drumsticks with the same casual dexterity I once envied.
“Perfect as in ‘won't make Rhea think I've lost my mind.’ Perfect as in 'captures everything I feel about her without sounding like a lovesick teenager.’“
“So basically impossible. Got it,” Wyatt says.
“You're all comedians,” I mutter, but I can't help smiling. After six months of working together soberly, things have changed. Our friendship has evolved, with us supporting and drawing inspiration from each other's creativity. Last week, a quick rehearsal turned into a jam session that sparked new ideas for our album. Without my old chaos, we've found a groove that makes every session feel fresh and new.
“What's wrong with the current version?” Cody asks, glancing up from the keyboard. “It sounds good enough to me.”
“It sounds good. But good enough isn’t okay for Rhea. She deserves something extraordinary.”
“Brother,” Andrew says, removing his headphones, “she fell in love with you when you were a mess. She's not expecting perfection now.”
“She loved me when I was broken.”
“Aw,” Zep coos from his amp, guitar on his lap.
“Shut up, Zep.” I flip him the bird.
