by Piper Lawson
“Do what? Distract you with thoughts of what else we could be doing right now? Forgive me if two years is a long time and I’d rather be so deep inside you—”
I clap a hand over his mouth because if he finishes that sentence, I’m going to come right in the middle of first class.
I shove my phone in my bag because there’s no way I can concentrate on a game now.
After the flight attendant comes around to offer us drinks—we both opt for water, which comes in individual bottles with fancy glasses on the side—he asks, “So how does Mr. Douchey Ex not being involved affect your show?”
“If Ian’s not the first investor, I need to line up some alternatives. And the truth is he was our best chance because he knew us and knew our work.”
I pull out my tablet and open up the files I started to pull while we waited for our flight.
“Bios,” I explain as he looks over my shoulder. “On every other funder in Ian’s circle of friends.”
“Blackmail?”
I laugh. “Not quite. I know what they’ve invested in, what their history is. Ian’s not going to do me any favors, but I’m hoping he won’t interfere. Still, on the chance he won’t…I need a Plan B.”
His slow grin has me arching a brow.
“You’re sexy when you’re plotting,” he decides.
I laugh, realizing we haven’t talked much about serious stuff in the past week. “Thank you. What about you? Why are you chasing women to New York instead of working on new music?”
Tyler leans in. “I told you, I’m on a break. I’m getting surgery.”
“But you’ve already had surgery.”
“This’ll be the fourth time.”
My heart squeezes as the pieces click into place.
He’s still trying to fix it. He might be past holding a grudge against the world and more relaxed with himself, but he doesn’t believe he’s as good as he was.
“Listen to what Zeke sent me.” He digs out his phone, and I pop in the wireless headphones he offers.
The track streams out, and I listen. “How much did you contribute to this?” I ask after the first chorus, pulling out the headphones.
“I didn’t.”
“There’s your problem.”
Tyler looks past me, idly scanning the first-class cabin as if he’s reaching for patience. “I’m not going to write something if I can’t play it.”
“Why not? Music is in your head and your heart, not your fingers. Especially when you live and breathe it. You could lose every sense you have and still feel it.”
I pop the headphones back in and listen to the chorus once more, making some notes on the cocktail napkin in front of me.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to take a studio song and make it work for me. I can’t make the music I want.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. The morning scruff is giving me all kinds of ideas of where I’d like to feel it.
“Maybe you can make something better. You know,” I go on when he doesn’t respond, “It’s cute how much you care about putting Shay in the studio.”
He picks at his armrest. “I don’t.”
“But you do. You barely know her, but you want her to succeed, because she’s talented.”
The Tyler I knew before wouldn’t have been as invested in someone else. It gives me hope.
Not only for Shay, but also for him.
“What about you and your dad?” he comes back. “You still look stiff when you’re in the same room together.”
“I told you I found out Dad paid my tuition through an anonymous scholarship. Which means he didn’t think I could do it on my own.”
“Or he didn’t want to watch you struggle. He loves you, Annie. Maybe he doesn’t express it right, or use the words you want, but he does love you.”
“What does that mean—like how you’re all action and I’m all talk?” I tease.
“That’s part of it. But I meant more like the way you can imagine your mom loved you, even though you’ve never met her.”
The words land between us, and I blink to make sure I heard him right.
“That’s not true.”
Tyler’s eyes soften but he doesn’t press.
“If it was a big deal,” I go on, “don’t you think I would’ve contacted her? I don’t need to. I didn’t even know about her until I got that letter four years ago.”
“Yeah, but the difference is now, even if you don’t mean to, even if he doesn’t know it, you’re comparing him to her.”
I fold my arms over my chest, staring at the water glass, the liquid vibrating slightly with the movement of the plane.
“So what? You think if I want to square things with my dad, I have to contact her?”
Tyler’s hand covers mine, and he tugs it toward him, threading our fingers together. Warmth spreads through me. “You don’t have to do anything. But I don’t want to see it eat at you.”
I shift in my seat. “Did you make peace with your dad and what he did to you? The bills he left you with after?”
Tyler’s head drops back against the headrest, but his eyes stay on me. “Yeah, I did. It took a long fucking time, but I did.”
I turn that over the rest of the ride back to Dallas.
When the plane arrives, the car drops Tyler off at his hotel, then takes me back to Dad and Haley’s. I walk in the door and immediately know something’s wrong.
“Sophie, we need to go.” My dad’s voice is harsh as he stalks into the hallway.
“I don’t wannoo. I’m playing.”
My attention goes to Haley, who’s hunched over by the stairs.
“What happened?” I demand, rushing to her.
“I’ve been having some headaches, which isn’t a big deal except I don’t normally get them,” Haley says weakly. “Today I’ve been having stomach pains, too. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I’m not,” my dad responds. “We’re going to the hospital now.”
My dad and Haley take one car, and I drive Sophie in the other, following them. At the hospital, they take Haley and my dad into a room. Sophie and I wait outside.
I debate only the briefest moment before calling Tyler to tell him what happened.
“I’ll be right there,” he says immediately, and some of the worry ebbs away knowing he’s coming.
I try to keep Sophie occupied, but she races to the door that opens to where Haley is. I’m a beat late chasing her.
Inside, the doctor’s trying to kick out my dad. “We need to run some tests. It will be more efficient with only me here.”
“Fuck efficient.”
“Jax, it’s fine,” Haley insists, wrapping a hand around his wrist, which seems to soothe him. He seems more worked up than she does. “Go sit outside. How would you feel if someone was in your studio telling you what to do?”
Dad finally relents.
The three of us walk into the waiting room just as Tyler stalks around the corner.
“How is she?” Tyler asks, his gaze flicking between us.
“We’re trying to find out,” Jax answers grimly.
“Hey, Sunshine Sophie.” Tyler’s attention lands on my sister wandering down the hallway and tracing a finger down the wall. “Let’s go find some trucks outside.”
She runs for him, and I shoot him a grateful smile.
After Tyler departs, my dad lifts his hands to his face, and I frown. “Are you biting your nails right now?”
He rubs a hand over his neck. “Haven’t done that in a long fucking time.”
Beneath the grumpiness, there’s something deeper, a worry that barking at people can’t fix.
I think of my conversation with Tyler on the plane about loving people, and how we show our love in different ways. Dad definitely has the protective kind down.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go find snacks.”
We head for the vending machines.
“Remember when we used to get BBQ Pringles for road trips?” I say, pulling out a bill and feeding it into the mac
hine. “I haven’t had them in years.”
I punch the button and watch the silver spiral thingy turn. It stops with the chips hanging from the edge. “Crap.”
My dad shakes the machine, and I laugh as I feed it another bill.
He grunts. “It’ll eat your money twice.”
“It might not.”
We both watch as if this is the most important thing in the world. The gear turns, dropping the first chips.
The second…
Nope. Stuck.
I drop into a chair, and he takes the one next to me.
I grab the tin and open the lid. “You do the honors.”
He pops it and takes the first chip. “How was New York?”
The question is forced out, as if it takes an unusual amount of energy for him to expel the words.
“I had a minor setback with work,” I say carefully, knowing my career hasn’t been something we could talk about in the past. “A personal contact was going to invest in the new show. It got messy, and he’s not the right fit anymore.”
“It’s a big deal, producing a show.”
“I know.”
I reach for a chip and crunch into it. He sits in silence next to me.
“Tyler kicked my kid out of the studio and wants to put Shay in his place,” he goes on after a moment. “I didn’t bring him on to scout talent. I brought him on to rein it in. He was always sensible at that age. Mostly sensible,” he amends. “I put a lot into this label. My reputation. My money.”
I cock my head. “If you lose everything, Haley has her business. She can support you.”
He shoots me side-eye, and I can’t help smiling.
“Everyone thinks dating musicians is awesome,” I say. “But it sucks.”
My dad follows my gaze down the hall to where Tyler’s playing with Sophie.
“Am I the reason you’re not with Tyler?”
The words are so quiet I almost miss them.
“No. We’re...I don’t know what we are,” I admit. “But after he got hurt, we needed space. I told myself he needed something I couldn’t give him. But I wanted my dreams too. I wanted to prove I could make it.”
“And now?”
I exhale hard. “I don’t know, Dad.“
“He cares about you.” He looks over at me. “Haley will be the first to say I’m not patient. Loving someone doesn’t mean you’re a different person every day. But it means you’re willing to try to be better.”
I offer him the last chip.
He shakes me off. “It’s yours.”
I break it in half, and he takes the other part.
“You know which album is the most important?” he muses after finishing and brushing his hands on his jeans. “It’s the one you create next. It’s not just about the money. It’s my reputation.”
“That’s why you should trust Tyler about Shay.” I glance toward the man I love entertaining my little sister down the hall, and my chest expands until it threatens to crack my ribs. “Because he doesn’t go all in every day. But when he does… it’s magic.”
15
“That thing you wanted me to keep an eye out for? I’ve got a lead on it,” Beck says over the phone as I shift out of my car at the studio the next day. “Four bedrooms. Ocean view. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Don’t drool on your shoes.”
I shake my head as I grab the front door and head inside. Shay waves at me, and I nod. “Get the realtor to chase it down for me.”
“Done. Long as I get first dibs on bedrooms.”
I’ve been saving for a place on the beach. My plan is to get my surgery, fix my hand, and get back to my album in warm weather—no more cold winters that make my hand feel useless and broken.
But that’s not the only reason for my upbeat mood.
I could chalk it up to my surgery coming up soon, but it’s not that.
It’s the time I’m spending with Annie, but also creatively, helping Shay.
Hell, I even started work with the songs Zeke sent me, though I’m not about to admit it until I go back to LA.
Which I have to do soon.
But it’s been easy to push that from my mind in light of the chaos of the past few days.
I hang up and glance at Shay, who’s unpacking her things at her desk.
“Ready to work?” I ask her.
“Absolutely.” Her face lights up with enthusiasm. “First, though, you have guests waiting in your office.” I frown, and she hurries to add, “They said they knew you.”
I start back there, annoyed someone’s in there without me. I push the door wide and stop in my tracks.
Annie’s inside, looking like everything right in the world in a flowy blue dress that makes me want to press her up against the wall and find out if she’s wearing anything under it.
“Hey, beautiful. How’s Haley this morning?”
“Resting but good. No more pains. And the headaches have subsided.”
Last night we got back from the hospital around midnight, after the doctors ran a bunch of tests and diagnosed Haley with preeclampsia. Given she’s not due to deliver for another month, they gave her medication and advised her to stick to bed rest and return if things worsened.
I go to kiss Annie, but she pulls back. “Slow your roll, Romeo. We’ve got company.”
She moves out of the way to reveal Rae slouched in my task chair.
I arch a brow at Annie’s former roommate. “You look comfortable.”
“Lumbar support is important,” Rae deadpans. But she rises from her chair and I grab her in a one-armed hug she reluctantly allows.
Annie says, “She’s stopped over on her way to Miami for a DJ gig.”
“Damn. I was just talking to Beck. He’ll be bummed he missed you.”
“What were you talking about?” Annie asks, and my chest tightens as I think about the house.
“Ah… nothing. You wanna see Jax’s new artist?”
I lead them to the studio where Shay’s getting set. I nod at her to start.
Through the glass, Rae watches intently. She and Annie are both looking for different things than I would—I can tell from the way they watch, the way they listen. It’s the beautiful thing about music—everyone gets something different from it.
Rae folds her arms over her chest. “She any good in front of a crowd?”
“She’s playing tonight,” I say. “You should come. Both of you.”
When Annie and her friend take off, I hold her back for a moment in the hallway to kiss her until she melts under my hands.
“Mmm,” she murmurs when I pull back. “What was that for?”
“Your dad texted to give me the green light on Shay. Funny how that happened when he was completely opposed to it yesterday.”
Her eyes sparkle. “So weird.”
It means she and her dad are talking, and Jax is holding up his end of our bargain.
I kiss her again, hard, before letting her go. “Thanks.”
Annie tosses me a look over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “Any time.”
Since New York, things between us have felt good.
We haven’t had a “where is this headed” conversation, which doesn’t feel right given we’re finally spending time together again.
But even though I don’t know the specific answer, I know I don’t want to lose her.
After I finish working with Shay, I open my email to find a brutal reality check.
The note from Zeke’s office is brief but outlines expectations of my contract once I’m back in LA—which I’m supposed to be in another week. There are a dozen attachments. I only open the first two—a schedule for studio time, tens of thousands of dollars’ worth, plus an invitation to a party.
The last few weeks, I have been checked out. I needed the time.
I need more time.
My gut twists.
The email is a reminder this is all temporary, that I’m heading back to LA soon—not just for my surgery, but for my life.
&n
bsp; I’m heading across the parking lot when Annie’s voice from across the fence stops me. “Where are you going?”
“Home for a shower and to change before Shay’s show.” I cross to where she’s standing, slide a hand between the fence posts, and wrap my arm around her waist.
Her lips curve. “I got some good writing done today.”
“Sing for me?”
Annie laughs. “You listened to musicians all day long.”
“None I wanted to fuck.”
Her gaze drops down my body. “You have a change of clothes in the office? You could have dinner with us at the house. Shower after.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re arranged around the table in Jax’s dining room. Sophie’s devouring chicken fingers while the rest of us have grilled salmon.
“Forgive the catering,” Haley says. “It’s been a busy few weeks, and it’s getting busier before it gets easier.”
“This is great. Thanks, Haley,” I say, and she smiles. “Shay’s set is tonight,” I remind Jax. “You could come.”
He turns it over, glancing at Annie. “It’s fine. My wife could pop any minute.”
Haley rolls her eyes. “Jax, I’m not going to pop.”
They share a smile that makes me cut a look at Annie.
“How’s work going?” Haley asks Annie.
“I’m so close to finishing the last song. The reading is scheduled for the first week of September. It’s a chance for a number of people to show off new ideas. Ian’s assistant organizes it and he hosts, but there are lots of other contacts there.”
“Ian’s the ex,” Jax says gruffly.
“He’s one of those guys who wears suits for fun,” I add before Annie can speak.
Jax’s gaze narrows. “A douche.”
“First-class.”
Annie’s jaw drops, and Haley hides a smile behind her napkin.
“Thank you for those uninvited opinions on my love life. You don’t know anything about him,” Annie tosses.
My muscles tighten in response, my voice lowering. “I know he had you and he let you go.”
Silence falls over the table as I hold her stare.
I remember what Jax asked me once: whether I loved Annie the way he loved Haley.
I do. I know it, which only makes the reality of our situation harder.
