I finally lifted my gaze back to his. “Ry didn’t say we were bad; he said I was better without them. He accused me of making songs that were easy to play just so I could perform with a band.”
“Wow.” My dad leaned back in the chair, making it rock. He laced his tattooed fingers together and rested them on his flat belly. “The kid’s just as blunt as his old man, isn’t he?”
I laughed a little and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I guess. The difference is, Uncle Rule says whatever’s on his mind to everyone with no exception. Ry only does it with me.”
How annoying was that?
My dad made a noise I couldn’t exactly decipher, but his expression turned speculative. “Well, I guess that means you’re special. Ry’s a smart guy. I’m not surprised he can see that you’re one of a kind. Keep in mind, he’s not a music expert. He’s a football player. His area of expertise is not the same as yours, so take his opinion with a grain of salt, unless you trust that he’s telling you something for your own good.”
I sighed heavily and let my head fall forward. I made a loose fist and knocked it against my forehead. “I was so mad at him when he said it, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. Those songs did sound different when I initially wrote them. When we play them now, it feels like they’re missing something. Almost like the heart of them has been ripped out. I don’t know that the average person would notice. I’m not even sure how Ry noticed. But now that I know, they seem so hollow. I can’t unhear the reverb.”
My dad grabbed the hand that I was using to lightly knock some sense into myself and pulled it away. He gave my fingers a squeeze and told me, “Being in a band requires a lot of compromise. You took on writing all the music, which means the rest of your bandmates are just trying to imitate what you want them to sound like. Maybe ask them for their input. If they get to add their own flair, they’ll feel more connected to the songs.” He lifted his eyebrows and gave me a hard look. “Or maybe Ry is right, and you guys aren’t a good fit. Being in a band should feel like being part of a family. Those are the people you’ll spend the most time with. They should share every success and failure you have equally. They should hold you up and catch you when you fall. If they aren’t making you better and pushing you to be the best musician you can be, then I agree with baby Archer. You’re better than them.”
The way he referred to Ry startled a laugh out of me. “Have you seen Ry since last year? He’s even taller and more ripped now. He’s definitely taller than you. He played a full season of college football, and all he does is practice and train. He’s a beast now…definitely not a baby.”
My dad’s dark eyebrows climbed even higher, if that were possible. “Don’t ever refer to any guy as ‘a beast’. My heart can’t take it, and I’ll end up knocking on your door in the middle of the night to make sure nothing funny is going on over there.”
I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, so I assured him, “You know Ry and I don’t exactly click. You and Mom both gave me hell when I told you I didn’t want to go to Denver anymore and hang out with the kids there. I tried to tell you I wouldn’t regret it, but you never believed me. I already tried to kick him out and send him home, but like I said, he’s fucking huge. He’s not going anywhere until he’s good and ready.”
He frowned again. “The two of you chased each other around and had a grand old time when you were little. It used to be impossible to pull you away from one another, even if you were mostly arguing. You would scream and cry when we tried to move you if you fell asleep next to him. It was cute. It wasn’t until you got older that there started to be some friction between the two of you. Ry’s a naturally polite kid. I always wondered why you guys got all prickly and standoffish with one another. Your mom says it’s because you’re too much like his sister, but I’m not so sure about that.”
Of course, there was more to it than that. But I wasn’t about to tell him just how well Ry and I knew one another, or that as we’d gotten older, we’d done much more than sleep when we ended up in the same bed. I could imagine not only the look of abject horror on his face, but also how quickly he’d go in search of Ry to have a word or two. Like he said, I was on the way to being a grownup in his mind. I wasn’t there just yet.
“Some personalities just clash. We weren’t destined to be forever friends the way you and Mom are with the Archers.”
My dad clicked his tongue and reached for my abandoned headphones. I gave him a small smile when he slipped them back over my head, holding them away from my ears while he studied me thoughtfully for a long moment. “Fate is a really funny thing. You might think you know what it has in store for you, then out of nowhere, BOOM, you get the surprise of your life. Sometimes that surprise is the best thing to ever happen. Sometimes it’s pure shit. If you want to send me the audio of one of your practices, you know I’ll be happy to listen and offer any input.”
I shook my head a little since it was trapped between the earpieces. “No. I want you to hear us play for real.”
I never liked him to listen to my music unless I was one-hundred percent satisfied. I was always worried he would offer suggestions, and I would feel obligated to take them not only because he was my father, but because he was a musician I idolized. I didn’t want to lose who I was in my pursuit to become a musician he would be proud of.
He let go of the headphones, making them snap over my ears. He got to his feet and bent so he could drop a soft kiss on the top of my head. I couldn’t hear him anymore, so he used his hands to mime eating something, a silent reminder to drag Ry home for dinner and to see my mom.
I nodded and turned back to the setup in front of me.
I felt better after talking to my dad. I always did. But something he said stuck with me more than all the other advice and encouragement he offered.
Unless you trust that he has your best interest in mind… Ry’s opinion shouldn’t have fazed me in the slightest because he really was clueless when it came to music. I shrugged off anyone else who tried to tell me anything I didn’t want to hear when it came to my craft. I actually already had a thick coating of Teflon on my skin. My dad made sure I developed one before I started to play in front of other people.
However, I knew deep down he wouldn’t say anything hurtful that wasn’t for my own benefit. The truth hurt the most when it came from someone who honestly cared about you.
I had no idea what to do with that knowledge, or with the fact that every few minutes, I was still touching my lips and remembering what it felt like to kiss Ry Archer again after all these years.
It felt good.
Too damn good for my peace of mind.
Ry
THE ICE-SKATING RINK was cold, but not any colder than an average Colorado night in the fall. I still rubbed my hands together as my fingers tingled with the chill. I was surprised when my dad’s friend and business partner, Rowdy St. James, showed up the other day without Glory. But today was the first time I’d seen her in well over a year. She was right between Daire and Bowe in the age lineup, and since she’d gone to the same school as my sister and me until her family moved to Texas, I always considered her a bonus little sister. She was the younger sibling of my heart since she and I actually had the most in common since we were both serious athletes. She wasn’t quite as much of a perfectionist as I was, but maybe that was because she was already ranked close to the top in her sport, and I was still making my way there. Glory didn’t seem to have doubts about what she was doing and all she’d sacrificed to get where she was.
I couldn’t say the same thing at the moment.
“Are you sure you can’t go with me to see Bowe’s band? I think it would mean a lot to her to have as much support as possible there.”
I took the bottle of water she handed me and watched as she flipped a long, glossy black braid over her shoulder. Glory was the perfect blend of her mom and dad. Her mother was Hispanic, and her dad was all-American handsome, minus all the tattoos and his unusual retro styl
e. Glory had dark hair and golden-toned skin. She was tiny, like most professional figure skaters, but built on the curvier side. Her eyes were an odd mix of blue-green and dark brown that most would call hazel, but that was too boring of a way to describe them, if you asked me. She had an irreverent sense of humor and was a little oblivious to what was going on around her at times. She was so focused on being a world champion and a gold medal winner, she often forgot what it was like to be a normal young woman. She seemed far older than her years a lot of the time, and she had no clue she was a total heartbreaker.
I guess it was a good thing her little brother was the total opposite of her. Just like Daire and I. Elio was the comedian of our group. He didn’t take anything too seriously and thought everything and everyone was fair game for a joke or a prank. There was enough of an age difference between him and me that we’d never been in the same school together. But I remembered Daire constantly griping about his antics, even though he was a grade younger than her. She liked to pretend she was irritated by his mere existence, but she took it the hardest of all us kids when the St. James’ left for Texas, and she was the happiest when Rowdy brought the family back to Denver any chance he got.
Glory rapped her glittery nails on the edge of the hard bench where we were sitting next to the ice rink. I’d texted to let her know I was in town after her dad told me she was practicing for some huge qualifier competition. He told me that he hadn’t even seen her in a couple weeks and if I wanted to spend time with her before I headed home, I was going to need to go to where she was practicing. He was obviously very proud of her, but also worried that she was pushing herself too hard. It reminded me of the way my own father talked about me.
She sounded genuinely remorseful as she told me, “I can’t. I have to run through my entire program every single night for the next two weeks with my coach. I’ve been having some trouble landing one of my spins on its own, so I need to make sure I nail it down and not let it ruin my entire routine. I really don’t have any free time between now and the competition. I did take a night off and go to one of her practices when she asked me, though. I told her they sounded fine and that she was going to kill it. I didn’t get home until three o’clock in the morning. I typically get up around five and head to the gym before practice. I was dying the whole day after.” She fiddled with the water bottle in her free hand. “She seemed nervous when I was there. I know this show means a lot to her, but it was weird. I don’t think of Bowe as being anything other than totally confident. She’s always been so certain she was going to be a star. Even more than I was sure I was going to be an Olympian one day.”
I crunched the plastic between my palms and looked out at the smooth surface of the rink. “She’s confident in herself and her ability. But I don’t know that deep down, she has as much faith in her band. Which is why I was hoping you might be able to come and support her.”
Glory hummed lightly and turned her head to look at me. “You know, in all the years we’ve been friends, you’ve never once asked me—or any of the rest of us—to come and cheer for you during one of your games. Not when you played in high school, or even when you made it to a bowl game your freshman year of college. But you always tried to come and watch me skate when you could. And I know you made it to more of Zowen’s soccer games than he did to yours. Now, you’re trying to rally the troops to make sure Bowe isn’t up on that stage without a support system. Have you ever wondered why you’re so worried about everyone else instead of yourself?”
I balked and nearly dropped the empty water bottle. “We’re all friends. We grew up together. We know each other better than anyone else does. Why shouldn’t we all support one another? Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Of course. However, should we do that at the expense of our own priorities and needs? How often did Aston come and see you play, Ry? She was your girlfriend for two years. You gave her anything and everything she could ever want in a boyfriend. What did she give you in return over that time?” Glory wrinkled her nose, making the faint freckles that lived there twitch cutely. “Who’s there to hold you up when it’s your turn to lean on someone?”
I crunched the bottle into a small cube and squeezed it until my knuckles turned white. “You heard Aston and I broke up? Word travels fast. Did my sister tell you?”
She shook her head, sending her dark hair slithering over her shoulder. “No. Royce actually called me. He asked me to check in on you since you were in Austin. I told him I didn’t have time, but I was pretty sure Bowe would take care of you. She always has.” Her odd midnight-blue and brown eyes stared into mine. “I never thought you and Aston made much sense. I told her the same thing when you guys started dating. Neither one of you wanted to listen to the warnings.”
I scowled at her. “What do you mean? Everyone else thought we were a perfect match.” Including me.
“Exactly. You and Aston are a matched set. When you’re with someone, when you plan on giving them your time and your energy, when you make room in your life for them, they’re supposed to make you better. They’re supposed to bring something more to what you already have. You and Aston were so evenly matched, all you did is reflect the same image back to one another. There was nothing new there for either of you to see or learn from. Before you asked her out and you guys started dating, neither one of you ever showed any signs of interest. It was like, BAM, you were suddenly in love overnight and planning a whole, crazy-unrealistic future together. It was odd, but everyone respects you so much and just figures you know best, no one really questioned it. Maybe we should’ve.” She cocked her head to the side and gave me a knowing look. “You’ve always wondered why Daire and your dad are so similar, and why you struggle to connect with him. Maybe that’s because you take after your mom so much. My mom always tells me how different your folks are from one another. Your dad doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about anything. Your mom spent a lot of time when she was your age trying to make all the wrong people happy. You could be looking for yourself in the shadow of the wrong parent.”
I lifted a hand and put my index finger on the center of her forehead, gently pushing her head back. “When did you become an expert on love and relationships? The only committed relationship you’ve ever had is with your ice skates.” It was easier to tease her than admit she might have a very good point about why I remained lost no matter how much effort I put into perfecting myself.
Glory lifted an elegant shoulder and let it fall. Even the careless gesture looked graceful and fluid when she did it. “I pay attention to the people around me. I have to so I know who I’m competing against, what their weaknesses and strengths are. But also, you know I have a hard time relating to people my own age. I’m awkward, so I watch and learn. I’m trying to mimic the proper way to react in most situations. Plus, Aston has always talked to me when she’s sad. I think it’s because I don’t have much to say back. I knew she was having a hard time before the two of you split. I felt like she was looking for someone to give her permission to break up with you. I told her to do it. She wasn’t doing either of you any favors by staying in a relationship where she wasn’t happy.” She looked away and dropped her water bottle so she could wring her long fingers together. “I could be wrong, but I think if the two of you ever sit down and have a real, honest talk about how you got together and why you broke up, you’re both going to realize you have feelings for someone else and the people you were trying to force into a relationship aren’t reflective of who either or you really are.”
I leaned back as if her words had packed an actual punch. “What in the hell are you talking about, Glory?”
Sure, there were girls before Aston. None that mattered, though. Well… except for Bowe. Even now, she still seemed like the most important girl in my whole world. I felt like I should have examined why that was much sooner than right now.
Glory sighed and smoothed a hand down her long braid. “I’m sorry. That was rude. You know sometimes I speak before I think
. I’m just saying there is a reason you came to Austin as soon as you were single. And there’s a reason Aston feels like she needs to get out of Denver as fast as she can.” She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “If you were running toward someone else, don’t you think it’s possible she may be running away from someone?”
I was baffled. “Who?”
It was arrogant to think that way, but I knew I was the best. Who was better than me? There was no one. Was there?
Glory shrugged again. She climbed to her feet and held out a small hand. “Well, you wanted to be with someone who is totally different from you to make you feel better. If she struggled with the same kind of conflicting feelings, who do you think is Aston’s opposite in nearly every single way? Who’s the last person she would let herself fall in love with because it doesn’t make any sense on paper?”
I let her tug me to my feet and followed her off the raised seats toward the floor as I turned her words over and over in my mind. It was a complicated question, because I wasn’t sure if she was talking about a stranger or someone closer. Though, I doubted Aston would feel like she had to escape to California if she had feelings for someone none of us knew. If her heart wandered, it hadn’t gone far.
“Put on a pair of skates and let me spin circles around you for a little bit.” She shook my arm up and down, where she still clutched my hand. “I can only be on break for a little while longer. It’ll be fun.”
I grunted and pulled my hand free. “Your dad took me to the ground the other day when we tossed the ball around. I don’t think my tailbone can handle another hard landing so soon.” I needed to make it back to summer training in one piece, and mostly functional, or my coaches would have my ass. They were already pissed I’d skipped out on helping with the prep-camp with no warning. “I play football, sweets, not hockey.”
Fortunate Son Page 9
