The road was quiet. Not in that exhausted-post-show way — more like settled. The band was snoozing, scrolling, sipping coffee… until Thane saw it.
An Instagram story.
Jim, Gabriel’s dad.
Holding his bass on a modest little bar stage. Grinning. Still playing after all these years with the Dave Larson Band. And tonight, they were live at a tiny joint in Falmouth, Massachusetts.
The screen was shaky, filmed by a local — but the emotion in that one smile was crystal clear.
Thane’s breath caught in his throat.
He misses him.
Gabriel, sprawled half-asleep across the back lounge couch, hadn’t seen it yet.
Thane turned up front and tapped Diesel’s arm.
“Change of plans. Falmouth. There’s something I need to do.”
Diesel glanced over, saw the screen. He gave a quiet nod.
“On it, brother.”
When the bus rolled into Falmouth several hours later, no one suspected anything. It was just another sleepy coastal town. When Thane stood and announced,
“Dinner. Quahog Dive Bar,”
the crew groaned, stretched, and shuffled off the bus like it was any other roadside meal.
But Thane was quiet. Focused. His claws tapped anxiously on an audio cable clipped to his belt loop.
Inside, the Quahog was cozy and loud. Sticky tables. Old nautical ropes. The warm scent of beer and fried clams.
Locals stared. A few whispered. Phones came out.
But Thane’s eyes were locked on the tiny stage in the corner.
And that’s when the door from the back opened.
An older man stepped out, slinging a worn-out bass over his shoulder. He had Gabriel’s jawline. His confidence. His spark.
Jim.
He didn’t see them yet.
The band tuned up.
Thane watched Gabriel slide into a booth, still clueless, laughing at something Cassie had said. Jonah poked at a lobster roll.
Then a familiar groove kicked in — slow, bluesy, deep. And Gabriel froze.
His eyes widened. He turned. Stared.
The bass player onstage was his father.
Gabriel didn’t move. His breath caught — like something old and sacred had just lit up inside him.
Jim looked up.
He saw the booth.
He saw his son.
And his entire body went still.
His hands trembled against the strings.
Then his face split into a smile so wide, it ached.
He blinked, once. Twice.
Then he nodded to the rest of the band and leaned into the next riff — harder, stronger, prouder.
Gabriel stood slowly. He didn’t say a word. He just walked through the parted crowd, climbed the two little stairs, and stepped onto the stage beside his father.
Jim was already crying.
Gabriel took the spare bass sitting in the corner. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.
And with a whisper to the bandleader —
“Let me play this one with him,”
— they started.
A raw, smoky cover of “Simple Man.”
Jim played with the same quiet pride he always had. Gabriel’s fingers mirrored his — not showing off, just being with him. Supporting him. Standing beside the man who once carried him on his shoulders after gigs when he was six.
Phones were out now.
Not just filming. Streaming.
The dive bar lit up across the internet like a flare in the dark.
But in that moment?
They didn’t care.
It was just father and son.
Two basses. One bond.
Thane stood with the rest of the band. Silent.
Tears streaked down his fur.
He didn’t wipe them away.
Emily sniffled behind him.
Even Mark looked misty-eyed, muttering,
“That… was damn near holy.”
When the last note faded, Jim set his bass down and pulled Gabriel into a hug so tight it shook the stage riser.
Gabriel whispered something into his dad’s ear.
Jim laughed. Then cried harder.
Gabriel stepped up to the mic. Voice shaking.
“This is my dad. Jim. He’s the reason I ever picked up a bass.
He played in bars and dives and always made it feel like the center of the universe.
And tonight, I got to share that universe with him.
So don’t cheer for me. Cheer for him. Cheer for them.
This is where the music really started.”
The bar exploded with cheers.
Thane leaned back and just… smiled.
Heart wide open.
His wolf had come home — even if just for a moment.
And every step of that journey… was worth it.