The tour bus rumbled lazily through the quiet neighborhood streets of Columbus, just a few blocks from where last night’s surprise concert had rocked the rec center. The morning sun painted the modest homes in warm gold, each one with neatly trimmed yards, old trees, and the occasional porch swing still swaying from the early breeze.

Jonah stood near the front of the bus, shifting from foot to foot, clearly trying to figure out how to ask something without sounding awkward. You were at your usual spot by the front, going over routing with Diesel.

“Hey, Thane?” Jonah finally asked, hesitating. “Do you think we could… maybe swing by my folks’ place before we head out? It’s literally just a few streets over. My mom texted earlier and said she made those cookies I used to obsess over. She wants to meet you guys.”

He didn’t even get a full breath in before Gabriel’s voice tore through the bus.

“YES. YES. COOKIES. YES.“

He appeared in the stairwell like he’d teleported, black fur fluffed out from too much caffeine, holding two mugs of espresso like they were holy relics. “Thane says yes. Thane loves cookies. We all love cookies. THIS IS HAPPENING.”

Thane gave Jonah a long, knowing look. “Apparently it is.”

Diesel chuckled from the driver’s seat, already flipping the turn signal. “Alright, drummer boy. What’s the address?”

Jonah scribbled it on the back of a laminated backstage pass and handed it up. “It’s on Verner Street. Beige house, green trim, tire swing in the yard.”

Diesel grinned. “Got it. Somebody prep the cookie tray. I’m calling dibs.”

The bus crept along narrow streets, the massive vehicle drawing a few curious glances from residents sipping morning coffee on porches. Jonah’s heart raced as they turned onto Verner. The house was exactly how he remembered it—modest, two-story, old siding, flower pots on the front steps, and the faded tire swing hanging from the maple tree where he used to practice his fills with sticks and a busted trash can lid.

His mother was already standing on the porch, hands on her hips, apron still dusted with flour, and a wide smile spreading across her face.

The second Jonah stepped off the bus, she was down the stairs in a flash, arms outstretched.

“Jonah! Look at you!”

They hugged tight, Jonah practically folding in on himself like he was ten years old again. “Hi, Mom…”

“You’re too skinny,” she said immediately, fussing with his hoodie. “You need to eat more. You better bring all those nice people in this house. I baked three batches!”

Gabriel had already disembarked, bouncing like a puppy. “HELLO, I AM THE COOKIE ENTHUSIAST. I WILL BE RESPECTFUL, BUT ALSO I AM HERE FOR SUGAR AND LOVE.”

Jonah’s mom blinked at him for two seconds, then beamed. “You must be Gabriel.”

“I am, ma’am, and I love your son like my own family.”

She clasped both his clawed hands. “You come in. You sit down. You’re getting the first plate.”

Thane followed them down the steps, smiling warmly. “Mrs. Hanson, I’m Thane. I’m the band’s tech and sound engineer.”

“Ohhhh you’re the one who knows how to fix things,” she said with a wink. “You’re getting extra cookies.”

Behind him, Mark stepped down with his usual quiet presence.

She gave him a once-over and smiled gently. “You must be the one with the calm eyes.”

Mark blinked. “…Uh. Yes, ma’am.”

She waved them all into the cozy living room, where the scent of cinnamon, peanut butter, and chocolate filled the air like some kind of magical welcome spell. Plates of fresh, soft cookies were already stacked on the table, and mugs of hot coffee sat waiting.

Jonah sat on the couch beside his dad—who said little, but pulled him into a shoulder hug that said everything. They watched as the pack filled their house with noise and laughter. Gabriel dramatically praised every bite like a food critic. Cassie tried (and failed) to steal a cookie without getting caught. Diesel posted up in the kitchen doorway with a warm mug and said, “These cookies alone are worth the mileage.”

And Jonah… just sat there, soaking it all in.

His world. His people. His home.

It wasn’t just about being famous. It wasn’t about the article or the music.

It was this.

His mom, his dad, his friends, and his pack—were all in one place, laughing and eating and just being.

And for Jonah Hanson, the drummer from the block who never gave up…

It was perfect.