Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2)

by Annmarie Boyle

  Amy-Lynn stiffened, and her eyes flashed to his face. Was she embarrassed?

  “I didn’t know Wyatt’s dad was in the picture,” the daycare provider said before Matt could reassure Amy-Lynn it was okay. In his experience, toddlers could say far worse.

  Amy-Lynn’s mouth opened and shut, no sound coming out. Matt reached his hand out. “Not dad. Matt,” he said, pointing at himself. “I’m a friend of Avery’s.”

  “Oh, I see.” She smiled knowingly. “Little ones are often confused. He hears all the other kids call adult males ‘dad.’ He hasn’t grasped the meaning of the word.”

  Amy-Lynn walked over to the little boy, pushing back the hair that was plastered to his sweaty forehead.

  “His fever is about 100,” the daycare worker said. “Not super high, but his nose is running a bit, too. Take him home and tuck him in for a nap, and he should be good to go by Monday.”

  “Thank you,” Amy-Lynn said, moving to pick Wyatt up.

  “No,” he said, his little forehead crinkling. “Want Dad,” he said, pointing at Matt.

  “Wyatt,” she said, light admonishment in her voice.

  “I got this,” he said, pulling on Amy-Lynn’s arm.

  “But . . .”

  “No, we can’t have the star of the Avery Lind show getting a cold, can we?” Matt dipped his large frame to the child. “Do you want to walk, or should I carry you?”

  “Carry,” Wyatt said, raising his arms.

  Matt picked up the child. “Okay, but there is one thing we need to talk about first.”

  Wyatt’s forehead crinkled, and he tipped his head, fixing his eyes on Matt.

  “If I’m going to carry you, you shouldn’t call me ‘dad.’ My name is Matt.”

  “Matt,” the toddler repeated.

  “Yes. Can you do that? Can you call me Matt?”

  “Matt,” Wyatt repeated.

  “Okay, Tía,” Matt said to Amy-Lynn, “lead on.”

  When they got to the car, he placed the little boy in his car seat and expertly buckled him in. He turned to find her staring at him.

  “You’re very good at this.”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t see them as much as I would like, but I have seven nieces and nephews and then there’s Henry, Nick’s son, he’s been the honorary sixth member of Storyhill pretty much since his birth. Since it seems they need some sort of car seat or booster until they’re fifteen, you get pretty good with the contraptions. Plus, it’s good practice for when I have my own kids.”

  Her eyes skittered toward him as she rounded the front of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. “You want kids?” she asked while buckling her belt.

  His eyes narrowed. “Not everything has changed since we last discussed our future. At least not for me.”

  She nodded, three lines appearing between her brows—a sure sign the gears were moving in her head.

  “Go home,” Wyatt chirped, breaking the moment. “Matt,” Wyatt added, making them both laugh.

  “Yes, sir,” Matt said, turning to Amy-Lynn. “You heard the man.”

  She turned the car toward home. “So Nick is a single dad?”

  He ran his hands down the length of his thighs and nodded. “Yes. He has sole custody.”

  “What happened to Henry’s mom?”

  Matt let out a sigh. “She disappeared shortly after Henry was born. She had some substance abuse issues.”

  Amy-Lynn tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. One. Two. Three. “Were they married?”

  Matt nodded. “Still are.”

  She signaled into the alley behind her house. “What?”

  “Nick doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  Her lips twisted and she exhaled a sputtering breath. “Relationship fails are difficult to discuss.”

  “But you and I are going to change that today, right?”

  She killed the engine. “I hope so,” she whispered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Avery unbuckled the car seat and reached for her sleeping nephew.

  Matt placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me get him.”

  “He’s hot and sweaty.”

  He winked at her. “I like hot and sweaty.”

  She sucked her bottom lip under her teeth, biting back a smile. “Have you always been this much of a flirt?”

  “Not with you. Didn’t figure I needed to. You were so besotted with me.”

  She snorted. “Besotted? Really?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “I’ve upped my language game too.”

  “Too?”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Get the baby.”

  Matt negotiated Wyatt out of the seat and laid him gently on his shoulder. Wyatt never opened an eye.

  Avery tugged the hem of Wyatt’s t-shirt down. “Impressive, Mr. Taylor. Just how often do you see your family?”

  “Not as often as I would like. They’re spread around the country. Mom and Dad are still in Marla. Miranda is in Kansas City. Emma moved to San Francisco. And Dan is in Oklahoma City. I try to see them when Storyhill passes through one of their cities, and we’re together for Mom’s birthday and Christmas. But you know, digital age, I’m getting videos all the time.”

  “How old are they now?”

  “Anywhere from fourteen to eighteen months.”

  “Eighteen months?”

  “Emma got her PhD and settled into a teaching position before considering kids.”

  “Here, let me grab the door.” She unlocked it and held it open. “Why don’t you sit with him in the living room—there’s a rocking chair in the corner—while I grab some clean, dry clothes and start running a bath. Let’s see if we can get his temp down a little. If we can, we can tuck him in his bed and resume our conversation.”

  “Do you have any Children’s Tylenol?”

  Avery snapped her fingers. “Good call. I’ll get that too. Meet you upstairs in five minutes?”

  Matt nodded.

  She didn’t need five minutes. She needed a moment to collect herself. He was so good with Wyatt. So careful. So steady. He would be such a wonderful dad.

  She pulled a fresh pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and a Pull-Up from Wyatt’s small dresser. He’d object to the Pull-Up. He was a ‘big boy’ after all, but since he was sick, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  She set the Tylenol on the counter and started the bath.

  “I’m ready,” she hollered down to Matt. A lie of epic proportions, on every level.

  She could hear Matt gently cajoling Wyatt awake. “What’s your favorite tub toy?”

  When he climbed the stairs, he sat Wyatt on the counter and Avery gave him a dropper of the pain reliever.

  “Arms up little man.”

  Wyatt put his arms in the air, never taking his eyes off Matt.

  “I have a penis,” he announced as Avery removed his bottoms.

  She bit back a laugh. This was it. This was when Matt finally ran out of the right thing to say.

  Matt leaned down close to Wyatt’s ear. “Can you keep a secret?”

  The little boy nodded earnestly.

  “Promise not to tell anyone.”

  Wyatt nodded again, his eyes wide.

  Matt looked side-to-side and cupped his hand around his lips. “I have one too.”

  Wyatt’s mouth fell open. “You do?”

  “Yep.”

  “Me see it,” Wyatt said, grabbing for the button on Matt’s pants.

  Avery laughed, and Matt inched back, just out of Wyatt’s reach.

  Matt ruffled Wyatt’s hair. “I only take my clothes off for baths. And that bathtub is not big enough for both of us. How about you show me your bath squirts instead?”

  The little boy seemed appeased, and Matt swung him into the bath.

  “You okay by yourself for a bit?” he asked, stepping away from the tub.

  She raked her eyes down his body. “You worried you’re going to have to take your clothes off?” />
  He leaned down, whispering in her ear. “This will be the only time I’ll say no when Avery Lind asks me to take off my clothes. But as you said earlier, we have some things to talk about before bath time.”

  Avery wet a washcloth and gently wiped the toddler’s cheeks. “Where are you going?”

  “I got some little man goo on my shirt. I have a gym bag in my car. I’m just going to run out and change.”

  When Matt came back, Avery was toweling off Wyatt, and the little boy’s eyes were drifting shut. “How about we put your clothes on and then tuck you in for a nap?”

  “Matt nap,” Wyatt said, pointing his finger at Matt.

  “Okay, little dude, I will rock you for five minutes, and then you have to sleep in your big boy bed. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Wyatt said with a serious nod.

  Matt carried him down the stairs, and they reclaimed their spot in the rocking chair.

  Avery watched as Matt laid her nephew on his shoulder. This was going to be even harder than she had expected.

  “If you’re good,” she said, her voice catching in her throat, “I’m going to call Jess and then clean up the kitchen.”

  “I’m good,” he said, rubbing small circles on the little boy’s back.

  She nodded and slipped into the kitchen. The clock chimed just as she finished cleaning out the soup bowls and getting everything in the dishwasher. Momma would be home soon. They’d have to move their discussion to another location. Maybe his place? Or better yet, a public space where he’d be less likely to yell at her.

  She walked back into the living room to tell Matt exactly that, but they were both out cold. Wyatt snored softly, some crusty bits developing under his nose. Matt’s head tilted back. Seriously, he had to be one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.

  “Matt?” she called softly. Nothing.

  She stood and watched them until her heart melted into the floor. Maybe she shouldn’t tell him. It might be better to just go their separate ways.

  Except that’s not what she wanted.

  “Well, would you look at that,” Isabel said from behind her.

  Avery gasped and clutched her heart. She hadn’t even heard her mother come in, so lost in her thoughts.

  Avery circled the depression in the center of her clavicle and tried to swallow the emotions growing thick in her throat. “Jess called in the middle of my lunch with Matt.”

  “See, I told you, he would have made a great father,” Isabel said.

  “Momma, shush,” Avery said, pulling her mother back into the kitchen.

  “Lunch must have gone okay. What did he say when you told him?”

  Avery sliced her hand back and forth in front of her throat. Movement caught Avery’s eye and she whirled to find Matt standing just behind her, Wyatt still draped on his shoulder.

  “Would have made a great father? Like past tense?” Matt ignored Isabel, his full attention focused on her. “On Wednesday, you said once we talked, you were in. Did you change your mind? Did you bring me here to tell me we don’t have a future?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. She couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. “That’s not exactly what I said. And Momma just misspoke. She meant you will make a good father.”

  Isabel looked between them and shrugged. “You know my English isn’t always so good.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Isabel, your English is as good as mine.”

  “I’ll take Wyatt upstairs,” Isabel said, taking the small boy from Matt. She turned but stopped on the first stair.

  Avery rushed to her side. “Momma, is he too heavy for you?”

  “Not at all, mi hija.” She patted Avery’s cheek with her free hand. “This has gone on too long. I’ll grab a book and sit in Wyatt and Jessica’s room. Let me know if you need me.”

  Avery sucked in a long, deep breath and turned back to Matt.

  “Mac, what’s going on? What did Isabel mean? What’s been going on too long? And why would you need her?”

  She sighed, resigned. This was not how this was supposed to go. She had a whole speech planned. “Have a seat, Matt.”

  His chest rose and fell with a giant exhale. “I think I’d rather stand.”

  “Um, okay. So. Well. I’ve wanted to tell you this since that first day in the studio.” She paced around the island and back. She didn’t know if she wanted to be close to him when she finally told him or if putting the island between them was a better strategy. “Actually, longer than that.” She looked down, unable to make eye contact with him.

  “So, tell me now.”

  “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “The beginning is always a good place.”

  “You sure you don’t want to sit?”

  He fisted his fingers in his hair. “Mac.”

  “It’s about why we broke up.”

  “We?” he scoffed.

  She rubbed her collarbone, but it only seemed to spread the fire burning in her chest. “Fine, why I broke up with you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Avery stopped pacing and lifted her eyes to Matt’s. “First, I really was worried about you being gone so much. I saw what each deployment did to my parents’ marriage. But that wasn’t the only reason.”

  “Go on,” Matt said, circling a shaky hand in the air.

  Here goes nothing. “About two weeks before graduation, I found out I was pregnant.”

  Matt’s eyes widened, and he stumbled. He gripped the back of the bar stool. “What?” he hissed out.

  “Must have been a faulty condom.” Nice one, Avery. That’s not what he cares about.

  He wasn’t screaming, so that was good, right?

  “You’re telling me you broke up with me because you were pregnant with my child?” He rubbed his temples, pacing back and forth, stopping abruptly. “Unless it wasn’t my baby? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” His voice was rising.

  “God, no, Matt. Of course, it was your baby.”

  “So, let me see if I have this correct? You and I had planned a life together. Hell, I got down on one knee and asked you to marry me, and you said no and broke up with me because you were pregnant. I thought your previous reasons were ludicrous, but you’re going to have to help me with this, Mac.”

  The fire spread through her arms and legs and her fingers convulsed. She gulped air and grabbed her thighs to stop the shaking. “I couldn’t do it,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

  “Couldn’t do what?” He was pulling at his hair, making it stand straight up. “Have a baby? Tell me I was going to be a father? What?” The last word was loud enough Momma was sure to have heard.

  He stopped moving, his body reverberating as if a thought suddenly smashed into him. “Where is this baby now? Did you have an abortion? Did you give the child up for adoption? Am I going to have some kid showing up on my doorstep claiming I’m its father?” He slammed a hand on the counter.

  She reached for him, but he pulled his arm away like her touch burned him. “No, none of that. Matt, if you calm down, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  “Calm down? Calm down? I thought you left me because I wasn’t good enough and now, I’m learning you didn’t think I could support you and be a good father. Good god, Amy-Lynn, did you think so little of me? Do you think so little of me?”

  “No.” The tears she’d been holding back leaked from the corners of her eyes. “It was because I thought so much of you.”

  “You’re going to need to explain that.”

  “I didn’t want to trap you.”

  “Trap me? I was already committed to you.”

  She lost all control of her emotions. The tears started in earnest. “I didn’t want to trap you into marrying me, like what happened with my mom and dad,” she yelled. “Then you’d resent me just like my parents resented each other.” She tried lowering her voice, but it wasn’t working.

  “They got married because of me. I was the unplanned pregnancy.
I’m to blame for their terrible marriage. I told you, I’m to blame for my father’s death!”

  “Stop being ridiculous! He died serving his country!”

  Ridiculous? She reared back as if he’d struck her. “If I hadn’t been born, he would still be alive! I couldn’t do the same thing to you!” She was nearly panting now, tears dripping off her chin. “I didn’t tell you to save you from all that.”

  “You made decisions for me.”

  “I know, I know,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I was stressed and scared. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  His face went blank and his voice froze over. “And if hadn’t walked into your studio, you’d never have told me?”

  “I’d like to think I’d have told you, eventually. But I don’t know.” Now was not the time to shrink from the truth.

  “You let me make love to you. You let me think we might have a chance again. Was that part of your plan?”

  “No, no. No! I just knew that the minute I told you, this”—she waved between them— “would happen. I never stopped loving you, and I wanted a little time with you. I was selfish. Please try to understand.”

  “I’m not sure I can. Amy-Lynn, we were twenty-two, not seventeen like your parents. We’d planned a life together.”

  She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand. “I know, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  She sucked in a breath, trying to slow her breathing, and yanked a paper towel from its holder, running it over her face. “I was protecting you.”

  His eyes popped open and flashed with anger. “Protecting me? What if I didn’t want to be protected?”

  She slumped into a chair at the breakfast table and covered her face with her hands.

  “What happened to the baby, Amy-Lynn?”

  The memory ripped through her, and she sucked in a shuttering breath. “I miscarried at eleven weeks. That’s the other reason I never told you. The baby was gone. You were already working in Pigeon Forge.”

  “What about the, wait let’s see if I can do the math, five weeks in between?”

  She gnawed her thumbnail. “I picked up the phone every day. Knowing I should tell you, but all I could think of was the way my parents became strangers. It was a marriage that never should have been.”