Текст книги "Cardinal"

Автор книги: Sara Mack

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Sixteen

“I …” I stutter.

There’s no way I heard him right.

“I’ve never played for an audience bigger than a wedding.” I gesture toward Latson. “You want him, not me.”

“He won’t come.” Dean crosses his arms. “I asked him months ago, when I first started working this gig. I asked him again the night we played on stage. His answer was still no.”

“Why?” I look at Latson. He looks apprehensive, possibly torn. “You should go.” I nudge him with my elbow. “You love to play.”

He shakes his head no. “I have Oliver. He doesn’t need to live on the road.”

“It’s only five months, right?”

“You don’t …” He sighs. “I’m not traveling with a seven-year-old, and I won’t leave him behind. He deserves better.”

Latson’s arm leaves my waist and he heads behind his desk. Did I upset him?  I didn’t mean to.

“Jen.” Dean redirects my attention. “What do you think?  How does touring sound?”

“I don’t …” Again with the stuttering. I don’t understand why he would want me. I don’t know any of his songs. I’ve never performed on stage. I own a used acoustic guitar. “I need some time to think about it. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I get it.” Dean steps toward me. “But, keep in mind, everyone has to start somewhere.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Why don’t I send you the information and you can look it over?  What’s your email address?”

I give it to him, along with my number. He types them into his cell. “Check your email when you get home and let me know if you have any questions. Rehearsals start in a week, so I need an answer soon. Within twenty-four hours, if you can manage it. If you say no, I need to go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“Begging.”

My forehead pinches. “Begging?  As in begging me?”

“I really want you to say yes. You’re good, and I don’t say that lightly. When I heard you play before my show I knew. Then, at Gunnar’s, you nailed it. You can do this. You should be doing this. Not bartending.”

Wow. I’m just about to thank him for his compliment when Gwen limps through the open door. “Did you forget about me?”

Aw, crap. “I’m sorry. I got caught up.” I turn around to face Latson. “I came in here to tell you that Gwen needs to go home. She’s in a ton of pain.”

He nods, his eyes never leaving the paper in his hands. “Let me know if you can make it in tomorrow,” he says.

“I will. Thanks.” Gwen looks at me. “Maggie is covering for us, so ...”

“I’m right behind you,” I say and start to leave. I glance at Dean. “I’ll let you know soon. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“You’re welcome.”

As soon as I’m out the door I hear Latson’s voice snap. “Thanks a lot, asshole. You could have told me you were going to ask her.”

Dean’s voice bites back. “She deserves it.”

“I agree, but we just started –”

“Jen.”

My eyes jump to Gwen.

“Come on.” She waves me forward. “Maggie’s going to kill us.”

I nod and pick up my pace.

~~~~

The ride home with Latson is quiet. He seems lost in his own world, so I don’t say anything. I know he’s not happy with Dean, but it’s not my place to question him. Especially since I overheard what was said.

With nothing else to do, I stare out the window and contemplate going on Dean’s tour. I imagine accepting his offer. I have to admit it gives me the good chills. It also makes me nervous as hell. I have to be the least qualified person to round out his band. What makes him think I won’t embarrass him?  I guess if I’m terrible at rehearsals he could let me go. The idea of being fired from a job I was handpicked to fill makes me feel a little leery. Trying and failing would be a nightmare.

But, then again, at least I could say I tried.

By the time Latson pulls into our building I’ve decided on one thing: to read Dean’s email. Talking in circles is useless, and I need all the facts before making a decision. When Latson parks and turns off the engine, I reach for my bag, then the door handle. “Thanks for the ride home.”

He gives me half a smile and then holds out his hand. I set my bag down and thread my fingers through his. “Thanks for letting me pout.”

“Why are you pouting?”

“Because you’re going to say yes.” He runs his thumb over the back of my hand. “You’re going to leave.”

I tip my head and scrutinize him. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because I won’t let you stay.”

I frown.

“C’mere.” He pulls me closer by pulling on my hand. I slide over next to him, but it’s not good enough. With some maneuvering, I end up sitting in his lap, facing him.

“You have too much talent to let this pass you by,” he says. “Didn’t you say you were tired of tending bar?  It’s time to be a rock star.”

I laugh. “That’s stretching it a little, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” He runs his hands over my arms. “You’ll be great.”

I lean forward and hold my face inches from his. “I still think you should go.”

“Jen, I –”

“I understand about Oliver,” I cut him off. “I do. But, other people tour, and they have families. It’s five months.”

“Remember that when you’re missing me.” He gives me a gentle kiss, then rests his forehead against mine. “I have more reasons than Oliver for saying no.”

“Such as?”

He sighs and lets his hands fall to my thighs. He leans back against the seat and looks out the window. “Audrey.”

I set my palms against his chest and wait for him to explain.

“I won’t put myself in a position to re-live the past,” he says. “Too many things would be the same.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but changes his mind. I wonder if he’s talked to anyone about his sister. I doubt his past comes up when he’s hanging out with Pete and the guys. I lean forward to get his attention and softly ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He runs his fingers in circles on my legs. “What’s there to talk about?  My sister died on our second tour. I can barely escape the memory without my music. It would be impossible to shake if I went with Dean.”

My breath catches. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be.” Latson’s sad eyes find mine. “What happened has nothing to do with you.”

My gut tells me he’s wrong. “I think it does.” I sit up straight. “We’re together, right?”

He nods, yet looks confused.

“Then your hurts are mine. Just like if I were upset. Wouldn’t you want to make me feel better?”

“I would.”

“See?” I lean toward him and set my hands on either side of his face. “Listen to me. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what losing Audrey was like for you and your family.”

Latson sighs and gives me another soft kiss. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

He covers my hands with his and moves them to his chest. “I wish I could go back,” he says. “There are days when I question everything. You should know that about me, for when I act like an ass again. Because it’s going to happen, just like it did at the hospital.”

I squeeze his fingers. “Not if I can help it. What are you second guessing?”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“There’s no fixing the past.”

“True, but you can feel better about it.” I decide to share my own revelation. “Take my ex, Derek, for example. He was a massive mistake. Huge. But I feel better about what happened because he led me here. Had things not happened the way they did, I’d be four hours away dating a lying bastard. You and I would never have met.”

Latson raises an eyebrow. “Is it wrong to be happy he was a lying bastard?”

“Not at all.” I smile. “Now, tell me one of your regrets.”

He gives me a resigned look. “I don’t think –”

I bring my face close to his. “Tell me.”

“Okay,” he concedes. “Fine.” He looks at our hands. “I regret asking Audrey to manage the band.”

My stomach knots. “Because of what happened?”

“Because she had a degree in finance and was headed to New York City. If I hadn’t asked her to manage us instead of money, Heidi wouldn’t have introduced her to Levi. She wouldn’t have started using, and she’d be here right now.”

My eyes grow wide. “So, yes, then.”

He sighs. “She should have gone to Wall Street. Instead, she got in Dean’s beat-up Chevy with me.”

“Hold on,” I say and sit back. “Did you force her into the car against her will?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t your choice. It was hers.” I tip my head. “You guys were successful. You got a record deal. That’s nothing to regret.”

Latson looks like he doesn’t buy it. “It’s not that simple. There’s more to it.”

“I’m sure there is. Maybe you should tell me.”

He grimaces. “Not today.”

Just then, his phone sounds. I pull my hands from his and shift my weight to the side so he can get it out of his pocket. “It’s Dean.” He reads the message: “Tell your woman to check her email.” His eyes light up. “I like the sound of that. Your woman,” he repeats.

I try not to smile, but fail. I like being called his. However, I wish Dean wouldn’t have interrupted us. I want Latson to share more of his past, to get it off his chest. I feel like he hasn’t talked about it enough.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks and grabs my ass, feeling around the pockets. “Let’s see what Dean sent.”

I twitch and laugh. “Hang on.” Leaning over, I find my bag and pull it up on the passenger seat. I root around for my cell. “You seem excited about this. Or are you faking?”

“It’s a great opportunity.” Latson doesn’t answer my question. “You deserve to play, and people deserve to hear you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not so sure they should pay to see me. What if I embarrass Dean?”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because music is a part of you. You love it too much.”

I find my phone and open my email. There are a few messages from Dean. “Which one should we look at first?  ‘Schedule’ or ‘Details’?  Or ‘Sorry, here’s some more I forgot?’”

“Doesn’t matter. Pick one.”

His hands move to my thighs as I open the most recent message. “Sorry, there’s one more thing I forgot,” I read aloud. “Please say yes.” I give Latson a confused look. The message is followed by a bunch of worried smiley emoji’s.

“Jesus,” he groans. “He’s already resorted to Plan B.”

I shake my head. “Let’s try Details.” I touch the screen. “Here we go.” I lean forward so Latson and I can read the email together:

Jen –

I’ll try to break everything down. Basically the tour runs from late June until mid-November. We’ll be opening for Ariel, but you already know that. If you’re not familiar with her music, I would suggest some quality listening time. You never know what she may want to talk about, and it’s always a good idea to be friendly with the headliner.

I stop reading and look at Latson. “You were friendly with her,” I tease.

He squeezes my legs. “Stop. That was years ago.”

I turn back to Dean’s email.

Speaking of music, I know you’re not familiar with mine. Attached you will find the MP3 files for all ten of my songs. We only have 30 to 45 minutes each night before Ariel, depending on the venue. Each one is different. Regardless, we’ll need to do around eight songs per set. I would recommend downloading the files to your phone or iPod, to listen before rehearsals.

I make a face and think well, duh.

The label will cover our travel expenses like transportation and room & board. I hope you like busses and hotels. Some food may be covered; it depends what we’re attending. You will get paid $200 per show. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but with 63 shows on the schedule, it adds up.

 

“Sixty-three shows?” My mouth falls open. “Is that normal?”

Latson nods. “If you’re in front of someone like Ariel, yeah.”

I do the quick math. That’s over twelve grand. Twelve thousand dollars in five months to play guitar?  With basically no expenses?  I hate to say I’m driven by money, but I’m starting to really like this idea.

“Let’s look at the schedule,” Latson interrupts my thoughts.

I close the email and go to the next. A list of cities and dates pop up. My eyes widen as I read them:  Los Angeles. Anaheim. Houston. Vegas. New Orleans. Nashville. Atlanta. Tampa. Raleigh. New York. Boston. D.C. Detroit. The list seems endless.

My pulse starts to race. “I’ve barely traveled out of my home state. This is … it’s …”

“An amazing chance for you.”

I was going to say overwhelming, but the look in his eyes makes me bite my tongue. He’s looking at me but through me, like he’s focused on a memory.

“The first time you step on stage, any time you step on stage, it’s electric,” he says. “You’ll feel it in your bones, in your veins. Performing is one of the best things that ever happened to me. There’s no better rush, no bigger high.” His gaze finds my face. “I don’t know how else to describe it, but it will be like that for you, too. The music will take over, creating you instead of you creating it. The feeling won’t come close to your imagination, but it will try.”

I’m moved by his passionate words. I know it’s killing him not to play. It’s almost as if he wants me to do it for him, so he can experience it again.

“You’ll know what I’m talking about, after your first show in L.A.”

I toss my phone onto the seat beside us and set my hands against his chest. “You really want me to go, don’t you?”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“I want you to go for you, and I want you to stay for me.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I have to listen to my head and support you, because if I listen to my heart …”  He hesitates. “I’ll never let you go.”

My breath hitches. If anyone had those feelings for me before, they never said them. Latson doesn’t want to let me go while every other man has watched me walk away. I can feel my heart rearranging itself, to make a permanent place for him. “I’m kinda falling for you, too,” I confess.

His eyes grow intense as he slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me close. “I’m going to have a sign made that says you belong to me. You’ll need to carry it with you everywhere you go.”

I smile. “That might be difficult. How about you loan me one of your shirts?  As long as it smells like you, I’ll wear it all the time.”

He makes a sound low in his throat and brushes his lips against mine. “I like the idea of you wearing me.”

I close my eyes as his mouth skims over my chin, traces my jaw, and lands on my neck. “I do, too.”

“Maybe you should get my name tattooed somewhere,” he says between kisses. “So it’s permanent.”

I laugh. “That takes wearing you to a whole new level.”

“I’m surprised there’s no ink on this body.”

I lean back a bit. “Is that a problem?  I never planned on getting a tattoo.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Never.”

He glances at his arm, covered from wrist to shoulder. “Why?  Do they turn you off?”

I shake my head.

“Do they turn you on?”

I bite my lip and slowly run one finger up his arm. “You have no idea.”

His eyes flash as his hands slide to my hips. “I’m going to miss the hell out of you,” he breathes.

Have I decided to go?  In a roundabout way, I guess I have. I know I have his support no matter what I decide and that means the world to me. “You said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Can you blame me?” His hands leave my hips and start to untuck my shirt. “I get to date a hot musician who wears my clothes.”

His fingers brush my bare waist, sending a wave of electricity over my skin. “It seems like you want me to wear no clothes.”

“Only when you’re with me.”

He pulls my shirt over my head, and I wrap my arms around his neck. I’m still sitting on his lap, and my head falls back as his tongue traces the edge of my bra. “We need to make the most of our time,” he says, his voice muffled. “Starting now.”

“Umm hmm,” I agree.

His hands travel up my back as he continues to kiss me, pulling my bra straps down my shoulders. “Backseat?” he murmurs.

I lift my head and start to scoot off his lap. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Seventeen

“I’m having second thoughts.”

I pull my eyes from the sparkling diamonds in front of me to look at Pete. “Stop. Jules is going to love the ring you picked out for her.”

“Mr. Elliott,” the sales woman interrupts. “Remember, here at Tiffany’s, we have a thirty-day refund policy. If your fiancée prefers a different style, you can always exchange your purchase.”

“Thank you,” Pete leans forward to read her name tag, “Ellen. I hope that won’t be necessary. I’ve spent too much time here as it is.”

I roll my eyes at my brother as I go back to looking at the jewelry. We’ve been here less than two hours. I’ve had fun standing in for Jules and trying on different rings for size. The one my brother chose is a one-carat square diamond on a plain platinum band. It’s beautiful and elegant, just like Jules. She’s going to love it.

“Here you are, sir.” Another sales associate delivers two months’ of his salary in an unmistakable blue bag. “Good luck with your proposal.” She smiles.

“Thanks,” he says and takes the dainty handles. “Although, her answer is a sure thing.”

My eyes meet my brother’s and we start to laugh. The sales ladies give us curious looks. We didn’t tell them he had already tied the knot.

As we leave the store, I sigh. So many pretty things in one place. It reminds me of the last diamonds I wore –  the earrings Derek gave me. I wonder if anyone picked them up off the floor at the wedding reception. I’m sure they weren’t cheap. Or, maybe they were fake. He said they weren’t, but he certainly was.

“Now we need to come up with a way to break the news to Jules,” Pete says as he holds the door open. “You said her proposal needs to be epic.”

I walk past him and out into the hustle of Michigan Avenue. Little does he know I have news of my own. I haven’t told him about the tour yet. I was going to bring it up this morning after breakfast, but he suggested ring shopping before I could. I didn’t want to ruin the trip, in case he got pissy about me taking off across the country with three guys I don’t know.

“You said you had a couple ideas,” I say. “What are they?”

“At the top of the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier, or on the observation deck of the Willis Tower.”

My brow furrows. “Does she like heights?”

He shrugs. “I thought those were unique places. I don’t want to do it at a restaurant or rent a scoreboard. Jules doesn’t do sports. She does fitness.”

“What about sky writing?” I ask. “You could hire a plane and have it pull a banner over the lake.”

He frowns. “I just dropped some serious cash on this ring.” He holds the bag with one finger. “I think hiring a plane is out of my price range. Unless you know a pilot.”

Unfortunately, I don’t.

“Any other ideas?” Pete asks.

I tilt my head in thought as I keep up with foot traffic. “When did you want to do this?  I need some time to think.”

“I’m not in a big hurry. But I’d like to do it before we head home for Christmas.”

I smile. My parents are going to be so excited. “I can come up with something before December. Especially if I’m going to be spending a lot of time on a bus.”

“Why would you be on a bus?”

We stop at the edge of the sidewalk to wait for the street light. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell my brother I’m leaving. I look up at him. “I have some news.”

His questioning look doesn’t hide his annoyance. I’m sure he assumes what I have to say is bad. “What did he do?” he asks.

“Who?”

“Latson.”

“Nothing!  He’s being very supportive.”

“Of?”

I take a deep breath. “You know Dean?”

Pete nods.

“He’s going on tour. He’s opening for Ariel Allyn, and he wants me to play in his band.”

My brother’s eyes grow wide. “The Ariel Allyn?”

“Is there another?”

In one quick swoop, Pete wraps me in a bear hug and lifts me off the ground. “You’re going to be famous!”

People standing next to us start to back away. “Put me down,” I laugh. “I’m not going to be famous.”

“You never know,” he says as my feet touch the sidewalk. “When did this happen?  I knew you could play after Latson’s party, but damn. A tour?  Have you told mom and dad?”

“Not yet. It just fell in my lap last night.”

The light changes and we start to walk across the street. “So, spill,” Pete says. “When do the shows start?”

“Late June in L.A.”

“So, you’ll be here a couple more weeks?”

“No. We need to rehearse. I leave after Oliver’s school picnic.” I was relieved when I got home and finished reading Dean’s email. Our flight leaves next Thursday evening. I have a date with a certain little boy, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“When it rains, it pours, huh?” Pete bumps his arm against mine. “New boyfriend, new career, new sister-in-law.” He lets out a low whistle. “Maybe you should thank me for making you come out here.”

I bump his arm back, but harder. “I would have had the sister-in-law regardless, but I do thank you.” I smirk up at him. “I might even miss you while I’m gone.”

“You’d better.” Pete’s walk slows a little. “I know all of us will miss you. How long will you be on the road?”

“Until November. I’ll be back before Thanksgiving.”

He nods. “This is big.” He stops walking. “I’m proud of you, Jen.”

“Don’t be proud yet. I haven’t done anything.” I step out of the way of passing pedestrians. “I didn’t compete for this. Dean handed it to me. It could be a disaster.”

“Nah.” Pete shakes his head. “You’ll do fine.”

“C’mon.” I grab his wrist and pull him along. “Latson helped Dean write a few of his songs, and he said he’d work with me before I go.”

“Work with you or work on hooking up with you?”

I shoot him a sarcastic look. Does he think that hasn’t happened yet?  “Do you really want to know?”

He closes his eyes. “Never mind.”

We walk half a block in silence before I say, “I’m surprised you’re on board with this. Aren’t you worried about me?  What happened to Protective Pete?”

“He’s still around.” My brother gives me his fatherly stare as we get stopped at another street crossing. “But this is a professionally run organization. You’ll be surrounded by people, and Dean’s not trying to get into your pants.”

“You’re right.” The light changes and we start to walk. “However, I will be spending months on a bus with him and two other guys.”

Pete’s expression changes. “Wait. What?”

I skip ahead of him, dodging a few people so he can’t lecture me.

“Come back here!” he shouts and tries to catch up. It’s not easy to for him to work around people with his big body. “Little J!”

I laugh and start to run. I’m going to miss teasing him while I’m gone.

~~~~

“Let’s take it from the top of “The Short Life”,” Latson says as I reposition my fingers. We ran through the ballad a couple of times before switching gears to the faster paced “To Hell and Back.”

As he plays next to me, I concentrate on the chords, waiting for my turn to join in. We’re sitting in the infamous guitar room, the one he mentioned during our fire escape talk. He wasn’t lying; he really has a room full of guitars. In fact, it’s set up more like a mini-studio, with soundproof insulation on the walls and a mixing board in the corner. There are at least fifteen instruments in here, including the Fender, along with a few amps and mics.

He nods as he comes to the end of the first verse, indicating it’s time for me to play. The first part of this song features the lead alone, then the rest of the band joins in. Latson sings the chorus, since I don’t know all the words yet:

“I’m down so low, you’re up so high

A million miles an hour

The speed you fly

Never catching up, never slowing down

Short is the life

We’re burning into the ground.”

 

At first I keep up, but then I start to stumble through the rest of the song. I find myself paying more attention to the words than the notes. I try to focus, but this is the third time I’ve heard the lyrics. Before the song ends, Latson stops playing and gives me a curious look. “What’s wrong?  Did your fingers seize up?”

“Of all of the things you make me do, the worst of them is missing you,” I quote a line from the song. The words are so sad. “Who is Dean missing?”

Latson shrugs one shoulder as he shifts his weight. “He lost a sister, too.”

“The song is about Audrey?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. “I thought it was about a woman.”

Latson acts nonchalant. “Audrey was a woman.”

“You know what I meant.” I reach over and set my hand on his arm. “If you would rather I learn this one on my own that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. When Dean started to write the song it was originally about an old girlfriend.”

Oh. “When did that change?”

Latson gives me a pointed look. “After our sister killed herself.”

His words make me do a double-take. “I thought you blamed someone named Levi for her death.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Hang on.” He sets his guitar down and then heads over to the corner where the mixing board sits. There’s a small desk there too, and he opens the top drawer. When he returns to me, he’s holding a picture. “This is us,” he says as he hands it to me.

The picture is of a group of people standing outside a tour bus. The girls have their arms wrapped around one another, and the guys try to look like hard asses by striking rocker poses. I find Latson standing next to Dean in the back; his hair is longer and he has his fist in the air. Dean is sticking his tongue out and giving the camera the bird. My eyes skip over the people I don’t know and land on the girls. I recognize Heidi, even without her red hair. She’s blonde in this picture and has her arm around another girl’s waist. Their heads are tipped together, but I know it’s Audrey without asking. She has the same color hair as Latson, except it’s wavy. I can see Oliver in her, especially in her eyes and mouth. She has cheekbones some women would die for.

“There’s Audrey and Heidi,” Latson points, “and Paige, Lauren, and Shannon. They were all friends with my sister. If you ever get bored, ask Dean about Shannon.” He wags his eyebrows. “That’s a good story.”

“Is she the old girlfriend?” I ask, referring to the song.

“Possibly.” He smiles and moves on. “There’s me, Dean, Rob, Mike, Luke…” His tone changes. “And Levi.”

I look at the guy he obviously hates. He’s tall, taller than Latson, and casually dressed like the rest of them. The exception to his appearance is his brown hair is styled, while the other guys have messy mops on their heads. He has piercing blue eyes, but they look smug, like he’s hiding something. He’s also standing at the edge of the group, like he’s included but not accepted. “He looks shady,” I say. “I didn’t know he was in your band.”

“He wasn’t. He was our agent.” Latson leans back in his chair. “Heidi kept running into him at shows and she introduced him to my sister. What started as a working relationship turned into more.”

“More?”

He nods toward the photo. “You’re looking at Oliver’s dad.”

What?  I study Levi closely. I see nothing of Oliver in him. “Is it weird that I never gave a thought to who his father was?”

Latson shrugs. “It’s just as well. Oliver never knew him. Levi stayed with Audrey through the pregnancy, but as soon as she had O, he left. He didn’t want anything to do with a baby.”

“That’s awful.” How could anyone leave O?  Or Audrey?  She’s gorgeous and, from what Latson told me earlier, really smart. Or was she?

“Please tell me she didn’t OD because of this asshole.” I hold out the picture.

“Levi introduced her to drugs,” Latson says. “Hell, we all tried something at some point.” He studies his hands. “She stopped using when she found out she was pregnant, but started again after he left. It didn’t help that my father practically disowned her after he found out she had a baby and no husband. She named Oliver after my dad to try to smooth things over.” Latson looks me in the eye. “It didn’t work.”

It’s hard for me to imagine the kind doctor who helped me abandoning his only daughter. “So, she committed suicide?  I mean, things sound like they were shitty, but she had you and Dean and –”

“I don’t think she meant to,” Latson says. “Dean and I got her into rehab, and I kept Oliver while she got clean. When she was sober, I talked her into terminating Levi’s parental rights.”

“And then?”

“He started coming around again.” Latson scowls. “He wanted her, but not his son. She fell into old habits; her tolerance level wasn’t what it used to be.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “You know what happened next.”

I look back at the picture and the smiling faces. Everyone looks so unsuspecting. They look like they’re ready for the time of their lives, like nothing bad could possibly touch them. I can tell they felt invincible.

“It was her choice,” I eventually say. “You did everything you could.”

“Did I?” Latson gives me doubtful look.

“Yes.” I turn my body toward his. “You intervened. She got well.”

“She didn’t stay that way,” he mutters.

“What were you supposed to do?  Monitor her every move?  Set up shifts with Dean?  You two did –”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Latson cuts me off. He sits forward and picks up his guitar. “Do you want to try those two songs again or move on?”

There he goes, shutting down like he did in the car. He may not think he wants to talk about what happened, but he keeps revealing bits and pieces. I’m not sure how much is left to the story, but I wish he’d let it out.

Setting the picture aside, I pick up my guitar as well. “Show me the other songs and then we’ll go back to the first two. That way I’ll know what to concentrate on when I practice later.”

Latson studies me for a few seconds before leaning forward and kissing me.

“What was that for?” I ask.

“For not pushing. I changed the subject and you let me.”

I lift my hand and play with his hair. “I can be patient. You’ll discuss it when you’re ready.”

“I’m surprised I’m discussing it at all. I think this tour is messing with me.”

My expression softens. “It probably is. Dean is going without you.”

“You’re going without me.”

I freeze. “If it bothers you that much –”

“Don’t say you’ll stay.” Latson’s eyes grow dark. “Not because of me.”

“I wasn’t.” I smirk. “I was going to say if it bothers you that much, you’ll have to make time to come out and see me. A visit or two won’t hurt, will it?”

He circles my wrist and lowers my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. “I’m so glad you said that. I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you across the country.”

I laugh. “I see. How many trips were you planning?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He kisses my fingertips. “But, there will only be a few. I have some things that need my attention here, like a bar and a kid.”

“Being responsible is so overrated,” I tease.