Fortunate Son Page 6
I barked out a startled laugh. Funnily enough, I hadn’t given Aston a second thought since my conversation with Bowe earlier. I was stuck on her question about being a football player. Was it something I was doing because it fulfilled me and made me happy? Or was I playing because it was just what I’d always done, and it made sense? Did I want to be an athlete because it fulfilled some need I had, or just because I didn’t know how to be anything else?
Kind of like being with Aston.
I was starting to wonder if I convinced myself to fall in love with her because it made sense rather than because I was genuinely overwhelmed with feelings for her. It was all pretty damn confusing now that I had the space to step back and look at my failed relationship objectively.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll figure it out. I’ll be back soon. When I’m ready to head home, I promise I’ll give you and dad a heads-up this time and keep you updated along the way.”
She made a relieved sound. “Good. I was worried you were going to go rogue and skip summer training altogether. You’ve worked so hard for so long to give everything up now.”
She didn’t always love that I played football because it meant I got hurt a lot. But she would hate me walking away with no reason even more because she was right. I had dedicated my entire teenage years to being the best player I could be.
“I know. I’m not about to let a bruised heart ruin everything.” I was too stubborn for that, regardless of how confused I felt about everything in my life at the moment.
My mom hummed quietly. “Bruised? Not broken?”
I chuckled at the question and cast a look over my shoulder toward the house. Through the glass door, I could see Bowe sitting in the living room with a guitar in her hands. She had massive headphones on, and she was fully engrossed in whatever she was playing so I could stare at her all I wanted.
“Yeah. I think it might just be bruised. I didn’t realize there was a difference until someone explained it to me. If my heart was really broken, I couldn’t use it anymore, and it seems to be beating just fine under certain circumstances.” Like when Bowe reached up and moved my sunglasses onto my nose earlier. It was beating so fast at that moment, I thought it might break free from my chest.
“Well, that’s good to hear. Jet and Ayden know you’re staying with Bowe at the moment, so be on your best behavior. I have to say, I’m surprised that out of all your friends and family, you picked a sudden trip to Austin to drown your sorrows. You and Bowe have always been kind of combative. She’s the only little girl who didn’t adore you at first sight. She had to warm up to you over time. I thought you drifted apart when she stopped coming to Colorado for the summer a few years back.”
I grunted and climbed to my feet. “We did drift apart, but she’s always stayed in touch with Daire. I can’t explain it. Everyone in Denver is tight with both me and Aston. I knew when they heard we split, they were going to be torn between which one of us they should be trying to make feel better. And they were going to want to know why we suddenly split. Since I can’t even answer that, I just decided to take myself out of the question. Bowe is equally indifferent to me and Aston. She wasn’t going to pick a side to blame or grill me about what happened. I knew she was going to be pissed no matter what the circumstances were. I showed up out of nowhere, and even though she was annoyed, she didn’t turn me away. I wasn’t thinking straight when I started driving, but going to see her was the one thing that made sense.”
My mom made another soft sound, but this one I couldn’t decipher. She sounded like she was holding back her laughter when she told me, “I see. All right, call home if you need anything. I have a million other things I want to say to you, but I know you’re honestly apologetic for making even more of my hair turn white. Never forget that your father and I trust you because you’ve never given us a reason not to. We’re always on your side regardless of what happens in your personal life. We’re going to support the choices you make for your future, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to question them along the way.”
I laughed. “Mom, your hair being white has nothing to do with me.” It really didn’t. Both her and my sister were so blond their hair often looked white in the right lighting. “I’ll talk to you later. Tell Dad I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I hung up as she was hollering that she loved me. She never ended a call or let me leave the house without those words. I heard them so often they usually went in one ear and out the other, but tonight they resonated. It was never good to take someone’s love for granted. There was no guarantee that the love or the person sharing it would be there the next time you needed it. It should be treated as something precious and delicate. Not like something indefinite. I pushed to my feet, shooting a quick text to my mom telling her I loved her, too, before heading back into the house.
I paused mid-step when I heard what Bowe was playing.
Looking at her and knowing her lineage, it would be easy to assume she favored loud, aggressive punk rock or heavy metal music. And while she had definitely experimented with those sounds when she was younger, she really settled into a more indie, alternative sound that leaned more heavily on her songwriting. From the little I’d heard when Daire forced me to listen to whatever it was Bowe was working on, it all sounded moody and melodic. The lyrics were always deeply personal and touched on whatever was going on in her head at the time, as well as the state of the world. Even when I didn’t understand her and she seemed like an alien, I could get a bit of insight if I listened long enough to the music she made.
I made my way into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I was going to ask her if she needed anything, but I doubted she could hear me with those headphones on. I sent her a text and waited near the fridge in case she was going to reply. To my surprise, a moment later, she put the guitar down and walked over to prop herself up on the other side of the long counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.
Bowe nodded when I asked her if she wanted a water. She awkwardly caught it when I threw it to her. I grinned at the near-fumble as she made a face at me.
“I’m not one of your teammates. It’s not my second nature to catch whatever you throw.” She cranked the top off and gave me a curious look. “Everything okay at home? Your dad isn’t going to show up and drag you home, is he?” Her eyes widened as she let out a fake gasp. “He’s not going to make my dad do it, is he?”
Her question surprised a chuckle out of me. “Your dad is too nice to drag anyone anywhere.”
“You’re right. But my mom isn’t, and she would do anything your mom asked her to do.”
It was true. My mom and her mom took being best friends to a whole new level. They were as close as sisters, and there wasn’t a move one made that the other didn’t know about, regardless of the distance between them. They even managed to stay super close despite their own crazy-busy careers and growing families.
“You ever wonder why our parents are still as good of friends as they are? Do you think it’s weird they have all these friends from when they were our age that they still keep in touch and do things with all the time? Don’t people usually outgrow those friendships as they get older and their lives take them in different directions? I’ve often wondered what happened when they were young that made them determined to keep their friendship alive and made them believe all their kids should be just as close as they are.” I leaned on the counter across from her, tapping my fingers on the surface.
Bowe lifted a shoulder and let it fall. The motion caused her oversized t-shirt to slip off her shoulder. I told myself not to stare, but my eyes didn’t listen to the stern warning. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the elegant and sexy bend where her neck met her collarbone. Her skin was a pretty golden color that set off her warm, golden eyes. She looked like she’d been dipped in honey, and this wasn’t the first time in my life that I wanted a taste.
“Both my folks had shitty childhoods. My grandparents on both sides are trash. The twins and I have
never been allowed to have anything to do with them. I think when our parents were young, they really only had each other to rely on. They found family with each other because their real families let them down pretty consistently.”
“I guess that makes sense. Daire and I see our grandparents on my dad’s side all the time, but the ones on mom’s only like once or twice a year. They’re so uptight. It’s never a very good time.” I pulled my eyes off her bare skin and cleared my throat. “Don’t let me interrupt you. As you’ve so kindly reminded me, I wasn’t invited to stay here. I don’t want to get in your way or infringe on your time. You can keep practicing or whatever. I’ll play a game on my phone or something and stay out of your hair.”
She reached up and fiddled with the ends of her ponytail while averting her gaze. “Did you hear any of what I was playing?”
She seemed nervous, which was very much not like her, especially when it came to music.
“I caught the end of it.”
“What do you think? This is the first time I’ve written music with an actual band. It’s normally just me and a guitar. Having all the other instruments and the opinions of the other musicians is a whole different experience.” It was her turn to tap her fingers on the counter. “I always wanted to be in a band like my dad, but I guess I didn’t realize how challenging it could be.”
I lifted my chin a bit and looked down at her consideringly. “It sounded good. But I only heard your part. I think everything I’ve heard you play sounds pretty good. I’d have to hear the whole song or the whole band play to tell you if I liked it beyond your part. You’re very pretty and obnoxiously talented. You have that certain something that makes people want to watch you and listen to whatever you’re saying. You pull people in without trying. I don’t know why you need to be in a band. You could be successful all on your own.”
She seemed to be pondering the words when she had a lightbulb moment. Suddenly, she reached across the space, separating us, and grabbed my bicep.
“Come to practice with me the next time I go, if you’re still here. You can listen to a couple of songs and leave. You don’t have to stay long. I’ve had a few friends swing by to get their opinion, but I know you’ll be honest. You won’t be nice just to avoid hurting my feelings. Please, Ry. I really need the feedback before we start playing in front of big groups of people. We’ve had a few small gigs here and there, but we’re about to open for a pretty well-known local band at the end of the month. I don’t want to be embarrassed. I don’t want to stumble before I even get started.”
I was taken aback by the request. I had no idea she trusted me or my input that much. In the past, she always acted like she couldn’t care less about my opinion on any subject. Like when I told her I wasn’t sure hooking up was a good idea, she informed me that I was an idiot and refused to listen to my reasons.
“Sure. I’ll go with you and listen to your band. I wasn’t planning on heading home tomorrow anyway.”
She bounced up and down on her toes and clapped her hands together, looking happier than I’d seen her in a while.
I really hoped the rest of the band didn’t suck, because I didn’t want to stomp all over her dreams and enthusiasm. She already had a lot to hold against me. I didn’t want to stack the deck even more, not when it finally felt like some of the distance she’d forced between us had started to fade.
The last thing I wanted was for her to be out of reach all over again. I realized suddenly it shouldn’t be so easy to reach for one girl while I was supposed to be letting another one go.
But here I was, doing exactly that.
Bowe
“HE IS SO tall… and big… and handsome.” I gave my bubbly keyboardist a hard look as she nudged me with her elbow. Her gaze was locked firmly on where Ry was quietly leaning against a wall at the back of our small, crowded practice space. The room was packed with instruments and amplifiers. There was an old couch you couldn’t pay me to sit on against one wall and some hand-me-down recording equipment along the other. It was already a tight fit with just the four band members. Adding Ry to the mix made the space seem suffocatingly tight. It felt like I couldn’t move without feeling his gaze on me or his overwhelming presence in the air. “How could you keep a childhood friend who looks like that from me? I thought we were besties.”
I gave Joey another look as I adjusted the strap of my guitar over my shoulder. She and I were good friends. We went to high school together, and she was one of the few people I kept in touch with after I decided to quit college and pursue music full time. But I wouldn’t go so far as to call her my bestie. That position was reserved for another Archer. The one who was the wildest and hardest to pin down.
I loved Remy Archer with my whole heart. She was everything I wanted to be and one of the people I looked up to most in the world. She was a couple years older than me, but she never seemed to mind the way I followed her around and bugged her constantly when I was younger. I loved that she lived by her own rules and gave zero fucks about what anyone else thought about her. She was infectiously positive and bright, and her unique way of looking at the world around her always made hanging out with her an interesting experience. When I decided to stop visiting Colorado, she was the one person who almost tempted me to change my mind about heading right back. She was the one and only person who had supported me fully when I decided to leave college. We talked on the phone at least once a week, no matter where she happened to be. And I’d gotten used to her showing up in Austin unannounced whenever it suited her. My folks even started keeping a spare room in our house for her when I was still living at home. She was the only person I didn’t keep any secrets from.
She was the only person who knew Ry and I had a history that went beyond our complicated childhood friendship.
“He plays football. He’s gotta be big and tall,” I snorted. “And he knows exactly how handsome he is. Someone tells him he’s gorgeous at least once a day, and he’s never surprised. I’m pretty sure the word ‘humble’ isn’t in his vocabulary.”
Joey hummed and shifted her gaze between me and Ry with open curiosity. “And you’re sure the two of you are just friends? Nyle said it looked like a little more than friendship when he dropped by your house the other day.”
I tugged my hair out from under the strap and strummed my fingers across the strings before I bent down to plug the guitar into the amp. “No offense, but your brother is kind of clueless. He seems oblivious to the fact that I’m not interested in anything more than friendship and being bandmates. I don’t think I’d rely on his judgment for much of anything.”
Joey nudged me with her elbow again and lowered her voice. Her brother’s head suddenly lifted as if he was aware that he was the current subject of our conversation. “Cut him some slack. He really likes you. He’s used to girls chasing after him. He’s super awkward and overly aggressive when he’s the one who has to put in the work. I don’t think he meant to overstep.”
I blew out a frustrated breath and motioned for her to take her place at her keyboard. “I’m just concerned about how something like that might affect the band. You need to tell him I’m really not interested and that I have no plans to date anyone I work with.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll try and get it through his thick skull.” She pointed a brightly painted fingernail to where Ry watched the exchange with a very bored expression on his too-pretty face. “Of course, having someone who looks like that stay at your place and come along to practice will probably do more to persuade Nyle to back down than anything I say.”
I glanced at Ry with a frown while I turned her words over in my mind.
Really, was it necessary for Ry to be blessed with everything?
He was smart.
He was nice and considerate.
He was a team player.
He had a great body.
He had a nearly perfect face.
He worked hard.
His personality was the one area he had room for improvemen
t, but he seemed to save the prickly, difficult parts for me and me alone, so obviously no one else would consider it a fault.
Honestly, it would be pretty impossible for anyone else to compare to him. However, I would rather die than let him know I thought that. It made it nearly impossible to explain to anyone else why I wasn’t as infatuated with him as the rest of the population seemed to be.
After a few minutes of tuning and making sure the sound levels were correct, I asked if everyone was ready to launch into the first few songs of our planned set. Joey and Nyle nodded, and our drummer, a guy who went by Driver, pointed the end of one of his drumsticks at me before loudly counting down to the first beat.
At first, everything sounded great. The song was seamless and smooth. It sounded the way we practiced it a thousand times before. My voice filled the space with lyrics about love and loss as Nyle came in behind with backup vocals. Usually, our voices blended well together and we harmonized without an issue. Today, he sounded flat, and he came in early on the chorus and late on the bridge. We barely made it to the end of the song, and when we did, I was almost embarrassed to look at Ry.
I brought him here to give me his honest opinion, but I didn’t need it to know we sounded like garbage right now. I cleared my throat, and the sound echoed into the microphone. I saw Ry lift a dark eyebrow and shift his weight. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I could see a hundred different thoughts race through his mind as we stared at each other.
“Umm… let’s call that a warm-up and take it again from the beginning. Okay?” I looked over my shoulder and saw that Nyle was also staring at Ry while the rest of the band was staring at Nyle. “Everyone needs to focus. We don’t have much time before the show. I know it’s only an opening act, but it can lead to bigger and better things. Plus, you never know who will be in the audience.” That was my subtle reminder that my dad was more than likely going to show up to see me play my first real, paying gig. Not that I expected him to sign us to his label or use his connections to promote us, but I refused to do anything on stage that would embarrass him or let him down. And maybe, just maybe, if I was good enough, my mom would finally believe in me and support my dreams.