Drinkin: Beer. Talkin God. Amen. (feat. Florida Georgia Line)

They clinked glass—a dull, rhythmic thunk —and for a long moment, they just sat in the comfortable silence of the backwoods night. No deadlines, no traffic, just the shared understanding of where they came from and who was watching over it all. "Amen to that," Miller whispered.

Chase took a slow pull of his beer, the cold crispness hitting just right. "Every week. Still in the third row, right behind your aunt. She still hits the high notes a little too hard." Drinkin Beer. Talkin God. Amen. (feat. Florida Georgia Line)

Miller laughed, a genuine sound that broke through his polished city exterior. "Some things never change. Honestly, man, out there... I don't know. It’s all concrete and noise. I miss the quiet. I miss knowing where I stand with the Big Guy." They clinked glass—a dull, rhythmic thunk —and for