**Tour Morning – Hotel Room, Somewhere in Pennsylvania**
Stevie stood at her vanity, adjusting the tassels on her shawl, humming softly as she applied her eyeliner. Her solo tour was in full swing, and the energy had been incredible. Tonight's show was sold out—another packed theater ready for stories and songs.
Across the hotel, Sharon groaned as she sat up in bed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.
"Ugh," she muttered, rubbing her neck. "It's nothing. I'll be fine by tonight."
She got up, brushed her teeth, had some coffee, and chalked it up to dry hotel air.
She was wrong.
---
**That Night – Backstage, Post-Gig**
The show had gone well enough, but Sharon's voice had taken a hit. She coughed behind her hand as she sipped water, curled up in the dressing room's worn velvet chair. Marilyn and Lori sat with her, laughing and chatting about the crowd.
"Stevie was on fire tonight," Marilyn said, kicking off her boots.
"Totally," Lori agreed. "And that bit she did before 'Edge of Seventeen'? The one about the moon and that guy from Denver?"
Sharon smiled tiredly, voice hoarse. "She always knows how to paint a scene."
Marilyn paused. "Hey... you okay?"
"I'm good," Sharon said quickly. "Just a little tired."
None of them noticed how close they were sitting.
---
The Next Morning – Stevie's Hotel Room
Knock, knock, knock.
Stevie opened the door, still half-wrapped in a robe, hair loosely tied back, eyes immediately softening when she saw who it was.
"Marilyn?"
Marilyn stood there bundled in an oversized hoodie, sunglasses slightly crooked like she'd put them on in the dark and given up halfway through. Her voice came out rough and strained, almost theatrical in its misery.
"I—I can't go on tonight," she rasped, pressing a hand to her chest like she was delivering a tragic announcement. "My throat is completely gone. Like... gone gone. I sound like a chain-smoking toad that lost a fight with a gravel road."
Stevie's expression shifted instantly into concern, but there was a faint, affectionate smile at the edges of it.
"Oh no," she said gently, stepping forward just enough to really look at her. "Okay. Let me see you."
Marilyn cleared her throat and immediately winced. "That's the problem. There's nothing left to see. It's just air and regret."
Stevie let out a quiet breath, softer now. "Alright. Then you're not going on stage tonight. We'll adjust. Don't push yourself like that."
Marilyn blinked at her like she was waiting for resistance.
"That's it?" she asked.
Stevie nodded. "That's it. You sound awful. You need to rest, not perform through it and make it worse."
Marilyn's shoulders dropped a little, like she hadn't realized she'd been bracing for a fight.
"I feel like I'm letting everyone down," she admitted more quietly.
Stevie shook her head immediately, tone warm but firm in a way that left no room for argument. "No. You're taking care of yourself so you don't make it worse. That's not letting anyone down."
