Page 21 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
“Are you asking if we talked about what happened the other night?”
“I’m asking if your sister hates me.”
“I think hate is a strong word,” I say carefully.
“It’s fair. I probably wouldn’t like me either.”
“I’m sure Wells feels the same about me right now.”
“I didn’t talk to him—or anyone for that matter.”
“What?” I ask, both surprised and a little sad that she’d obviously been hurting and had just gone through it alone.
“I’m not much of a sharer,” she replies flippantly. “I’m glad you have Lettie, though. You guys seem close.”
“We always have been and she’s protective, but after we almost lost our father a little over a year ago, everything kind of shifted—being more present with each other, you know? I’d like to spend more time with my parents, but they won’t even let me fly them down here. That’s a whole other issue.”
“How’s your father now?” she asks, her voice wobbling just a little.
“He’s doing great. And before you ask, it started as a routine hip surgery that turned septic. We all flew in to be there—me and Lettie, and when Corbin found out he dropped everything to be with us.”
“What’s going on with those two?”
I snort. “I think she’s mad at him so they probably hooked up.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” Her tone is laced with disbelief.
“Nah, they’ll come to me when they’re ready, or they’ll work it out and I won’t have to be involved. But either way, they’ll get past their shit and see that they’re perfect for each other.”
“How are you always so optimistic?”
“I like being happy. And I like the people around me to be happy.” The words are simple, so matter-of-fact, that I can’t help but smile. “What makes you happy?” I murmur as my gaze locks on hers.
“Live music,” she admits. “Billy Joel was my first concert.”
“What?” I ask, catching the sweet scent of her shampoo as she turns her head to look at me.
“My first concert. My parents got me tickets for Christmas when I was ten. It was the absolute best day of my life. I knew every song, and it felt like the energy in that stadium was a living, breathing thing.” Looking up at the stars, she adds, “It was addictive.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t want to share my truths—not really.
“I took Lettie to see One Direction,” I tell her, exhaling and wishing she was sitting on this lounger instead of the one next to me. “I’d been to some small shows—local bands and whatever—but that was the firstactualconcert I went to. I mowed a bunch of lawns so I could get us matching T-shirts.”
“That’s really cute.”
“Pretty sure she still has hers.” Chuckling, I add, “Speaking of T-shirts…”
“Hmm?”
“I heard I’ve been shoved into the back of your closet.”
Chuffing out a laugh, she shakes her head. “That girl is my favorite, but she can be terrible at keeping secrets.”
“She’s pretty awesome. Hit me with like twenty rapid-fire questions when I went to the bar to talk to Wells.”
“That definitely sounds like her.”
“Are you gonna tell me?”
