Page 5 of Sing Me Home
After that kiss, there was no doubt.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Four Years Later
two
Cash
Ipeeled off my graduation cap and tossed it onto the seat between me and my eight-year-old sister, Addie. Dad’s thumbs tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel of his Mercedes SUV but his jaw was clamped. He hated city traffic, and the parking lot of Lane Stadium was packed.
At least six of the cars belonged to my extended family. Everyone had come to support Griff and me today. Liam had started college with us, but since he got redshirted his freshman year, he wasn’t quite done suiting up for Virginia Tech. He had one more season of being their star running back before he’d head to bigger and better things, like the NFL.
Mom turned in the passenger seat. “You did it, bud. You graduated. How does it feel to be done?”
I let out a weary groan. “So good. I never have to take a class again.”
“Lucky,” Addie humphed, arms folded across her chest.
I poked her in the ribs. “It’ll go by fast. Don’t worry.” Then I dug my finger in, making her squeal.
Dad caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “I hope you’re ready to get to work as soon as we get home. It’s going to be a busy week.”
“I’m beyond ready. For the album and the concert.”
Dad kept his promise. When I came home for Christmas, he surprised me by helping record my first single—“Please Come Home Tonight.” We’d released it in March. He even cleared his whole summer to help me work on my first album, which meant cutting his tour season in half. He was just wrapping up his spring concert series now, and the last show—a week from today—I’d finally get to open for him. Which reminded me…
“Hey.” I scratched the back of my neck. “So. Millie was wondering if we have three more backstage passes. She invited a few more friends.”
“I already gave her five passes,” Dad said.
Mom’s lips pursed. “Millie, who you’re not serious enough with to get her to sign an NDA? But you’re serious enough that she gets a bunch of free passes?”
“Mom,” I groaned. “We’renotthat serious.” Asking girls to sign non-disclosure agreements was humiliating. It was like saying: I don’t trust you but I still want to make out with you.
“Have you written any more songs?” Dad asked, thankfully changing the subject.
“No.” I rested my cheek against the window. “The words aren’t coming for some reason.”
“Maybe take it as a sign you’re with the wrong girl,” Mom mumbled. “Millie…freaking snake.”
“I heard that,” I said. “You can’t fault her for taking a lot of selfies. It’s what our generation does.”
Mom’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I absolutely can.Youdon’t go around taking a thousand selfies a day and neither do your cousins. You were raised better than that. You know what else?” She reached back and patted my knee. “Dad says I inspire all of his best lyrics. He says I’m better than Prozac. All I have to do is scratch his back and the words start to flow.”
Yeah. I knew. I’d had Millie scratch my back once, hoping it would work. The only thing that happened was that one of her nails got snagged on my shirt, causing her to run to Target to get a nail file. She swore she’d never scratch my back again.
Dad grinned at Mom. “I hope you know, every time you hear me on the radio, that’s just me serenading you,” he purred. “Lucky for you, I don’t charge for love songs.” His brows waggled. “But I do accept other forms of payment.”
Mom threw her head back and laughed.
“Eeewww, Daaaaddyyyy,” Addie whined. “I hate the eyebrow thing.”
“No.” I scowled but couldn’t bury my laughter. “Don’t do that while we’re all stuck in the car together. Actually, never do that again.”
Dad winked at Mom. “I make no promises.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out.
