Page 42 of Cadence
There’s a warm sigh from the other end of the call before she softly says, “Tell my girl I love her. And I’ll see you soon.”
It lands differently today, heavier. Not in a bad way, just…more.
Looking over at my sister, I roll my eyes, a smile tugging onto my lips as I hang up. “Guess you heard that, huh? Anyway, I better get going. God knows if I don’t get there when Mom’s dishing up, Dad will take more than his portion size.”
Pulling out my keys, I make the short walk to the car and slide behind the wheel. Jabbing the start button, the engine humming to life, I drive out of the lot toward my parents’ place. Trees blur, old songs play low on the stereo, and by the time I pull into the driveway, the sun’s dipped low enough to cast everything in a golden glow.
My childhood home hasn’t changed much in the past twenty-four years. Not even after Mom and Dad becametheindustry’s favorite power couple. It’s still modest, still white brick with trimmed hedges so perfectly they look laser-cut, and too many solar lights lining the path like a private runway.
I grab my bag and head up the walkway, the crunch of gravel loud under my sneakers, the sound of jazz spilling out into the hallway from the kitchen as I step inside.
“Mom?” I call out, peeling off my jacket and slinging it over the entryway hook.
“In here, honey,” comes the familiar reply, and I follow the low music and the scent of garlic into the kitchen, pausing at the doorway, watching the scene play out before me.
Predictable as ever, like every night since I can remember, Mom stands at the counter, slicing bread with the same precision she applies to every deal that crosses her desk at the label, while Dad leans against the fridge, red wine in hand, telling her about his day. Even with their daughters no longer home, they’ve still stuck to the wholefamily-firstrule they implemented when work started piling up.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says as I step farther inside.
“Twenty-four, Dad,” I remind him, placing my bag onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
With a grin, he pulls me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Still my baby. Always will be.”
I roll my eyes as I slide onto the stool when he lets me go.
“Saw some clips from the show,” he says, eyeing his tablet on the counter, already moving to pour me a glass of wine. “Tell us everything.”
Mom sets her knife down, wiping her hands on a towel, nodding. “You’re a natural, Paige.”
Sitting up a little straighter, my chest swells as warmth blooms, growing quickly as my parents discuss the set.
“We’ve watched whatever we’ve managed to find online,” Mom gushes, folding the towel and placing it down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shine so brightly.”
“Well, except for that moment…” Mom throws Dad a glare, and he holds up his hand defensively. “What? I’m her dad; there’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed.”
Reaching over, I grab a slice of bread, tearing into it like it’ll distract me while everything inside me feels all floaty and far away. “I thought no one noticed.”
“They couldn’t,” Mom adds quickly, slapping the back of her hand against Dad’s shoulder. “We’ve just been in this industry long enough to see when something doesn’t quite gel as it should. It was a minor blip, honey. Nothing to worry about.”
“Besides, like I said”—Dad points to himself—“I’m your dad, and I could tell by the shock on your face for that split second that whatever happened wasn’t meant to. The other guys’ faces said it all, too. Maddox caught everyone off guard, not just you.”
My throat tightens as I force down another bite. “It’s fine. We talked about it after, and he acknowledged he was wrong.”
Dad crosses his arms. “Being the frontman of the band means you look out for everyone, that you let them in on your plans, even if you do change them mid-set.” He looks thoughtful, hidden behind his salt-and-pepper trimmed beard. “If it’s already feeling messy and you’re not happy, you don’t have to stay. Deveraux Records is backing a handful of new bands this year, strong acts with full development teams behind them.”
“No, Dad,” I snap, then catch myself. “It was one mistake. I’m not jumping ship because of that.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look, one I’ve seen a thousand times. That silent spousal-telepathy that says they’ve already talked about this. Probably more than once.
“Told you, Kit,” Mom says, giving him a raised eyebrow.
“You’re the one who told me nothing worth having comes easy,” I remind him. “Sip Station is what I want, and I’m prepared to fight for my place there.”
“That’s my girl.” She winks and nudges my dad out of the way. “Go set the table and stop causing problems.”
“I’m only looking out for her, Vivianne,” he replies, going to the cutlery drawer and pulling some out. “If I can open a door, why wouldn’t I?”
Huffing loudly, I drag my hand through my hair. “While I appreciate it, can you imagine what Maddox would say if I bailedand ended up somewhere else because Daddy pulled some strings?”
