Backstage Pass: V.I.P. (8 page)

Miranda bumped his hip. “Not for long.”

***

In my family, we played the occasional game of Go Fish, and only when the power went out. This family was a walking, talking Game Show Network. We played every board game I’d ever heard of, and about a dozen I hadn’t. They taught me card games and how to be a good loser—which I totally sucked at, but was getting lots of practice.

In the evenings, after we’d had our fill of games, they sang. And it took exactly three bars for me to figure out where Jesse got his skill. They were amazing. Every single one of them. I couldn’t believe the harmonies and humility. No egos, just great music. The further my heart expanded, the more I knew how gut-wrenchingly awful it was going to be to leave them. Leaving my mom was hard every single time, but we endured it like a rash that was a necessary part of loving someone. She’d learned it from my father, I’d learned it from her endurance . . . we just did it.

But holy cow, leaving a family like this every time? I had no idea how Mo and his wife (she was adorable, and their twins) had managed to move away. And so far, too. No wonder they were willing to make the trek home for any excuse possible. Every hour with these people was a renewal to my spirit. A renewal I didn’t know I needed, but it was carving out a section of myself that wouldn’t be filled with anything else.

And that scared me.

Somehow I found myself alone in the kitchen after a rousing rendition of song and games. These people were big nappers too, and that only added to the uniqueness and unpredictability of this house and its inhabitants. I’d never been one for napping, I mean, the hangover nap was always important, but they weren’t big drinkers here either. Actually, I hadn’t seen anyone crack a beer. Not that my family were complete lushes, but weekends included beers on the porch or a glass of wine with dinner.

And yet, they were far happier without the booze than most people were with it. Again, no needed to give up drinking, it was just an interesting observation in a weekend full of them.

I absently nibbled on a pecan from the nut bowl in the middle of the counter and stared out the window. The quiet was nice, and yet unsettling at the same time. I’d grown used to the chaos.

And liked it.

“Hey.”

I spun around on the stool as Miranda came in. Hair up in a ponytail, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes and looked a little rumpled—instead of refreshed—from her nap. I grinned and slid the nut bowl over. After sliding onto the stool beside me, she grabbed a handful and tossed them back like a bear coming out of hibernation.

“Our family’s a little crazy.”

I smiled. “Yeah, but it’s the fun kind of crazy.”

She covered her mouth as she laughed to keep from spraying me with peanut bits. “I guess that’s good. When are you guys leaving?”

“In the morning. Why, you ready to get rid of me already?” It was easy to be playful here.

Her eyes widened and she clasped my hand where it rested on the counter. “No! Just the opposite. I wish you guys would stay forever.”

A warmth spread outward from my belly. Kerri might be like the sister I’d never had, but Miranda was quickly becoming one I wanted to add to the collection. “I wish that too. This weekend has been amazing. I had no idea . . .” I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

“What’s your family like?”

I hesitated. So far the question hadn’t come up and it had been a glorious weekend of avoiding any awkwardness. I didn’t want to ruin it when I was so close to having a perfect streak. I shrugged. “Normal.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What is normal?”

I laughed. “True. I’m learning one person’s normal is another person’s . . .”

“Crazy!”

“Yeah.” She let go of my hand and swiveled back and forth on the stool. “Are your parents still together? I seem to be the outcast when it comes to that kind of normal. I swear I’m the only one of my friends whose folks are still together.”

“I’m sorry, did you say
folks?
” I poked her in the ribs, eager to get the mood light again—and okay, I wouldn’t mind if we got off this topic altogether.

“No distracting me. Tell me about your family.” She stood and poured us both tall glasses of milk.

I took a swig and sighed. Might as well get it over with. I set my glass down and told her who my dad was.

“But he’s not married to your mom? What’s her name?”

I blinked. In the entire history of my life, I’d never—not once—gotten that kind of reaction out of telling someone who my dad was.

“What?” Miranda pulled the hem of her shirt out and glanced over her shoulder. “Do I have something on me? Is Stu behind me?”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, no. He and my mom divorced when I was ten.” I winced and cocked my head, unable to let it go. “Are you not into music?”

“Oh sure, I listen to the radio, but it’s not my Holy Grail like it is for Jesse—and for you.”

I stiffened. “Not for me. It’s the opposite of my Holy Grail.”

“Is it?” With a slow deliberate movement, Miranda set her glass aside and set both hands on the counter. “I’ve watched you when he sings. It’s a religious experience for you. You can see the purity in it.”

I shrugged. “He’s good.” I met her stare. “You’re all good.”

“Nope. We all may be good, but what is he really?”

I didn’t like where this was going, but I couldn’t seem to derail her train either. “He’s talented. I said that.”

Her posture relaxed and she swept an invisible crumb off the counter. “I just wonder what would happen if you stopped trying to run from whatever it is that’s been chasing you all these years. Maybe if you turned around and stared it in the face you’d find what you’ve been searching for.”

My jaw dropped, but before I could say anything, the house stirred and Mo’s family stumbled in, then Stu. Miranda held my gaze for a long time and in her face I saw—not condemnation—but encouragement.

I closed my mouth and my gaze skittered to Mo’s little girl as she tried to climb up on the stool. My thoughts were a jumbled mess.

Within minutes, the remaining family members filed in, and eventually Jesse. I avoided Miranda’s penetrating stare and excused myself from the room. He caught me in the crook of his elbow and drew me into his arms. “Hey babe.”

“Mmm.” I couldn’t get comfortable in his embrace, not yet. I tugged free. “I’m fine, just want to freshen up.”

Jesse held me at arm’s length, then followed my gaze to where Miranda stood talking to Mo’s wife. “You sure?”

I forced a bright smile. “Totally.” To prove it to both of us, I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, then turned and bounded up the stairs, waving three steps from the top. After I’d locked the bathroom door, I leaned against it and sagged to the floor. I’d been a fool to think I’d make it through this trip unscathed, but I’d been sorely mistaken on not only the fallout but the aggressor.

And just when I thought Miranda was someone I could . . . what, spend more time with, have as a sister? I’d called it earlier as the Jesse-family-sized-hole had spread wider. So now it was up to me to decide how to continue. With us leaving in the morning, stepping back and closing off would be easy, I just had to keep it together tonight, get in the car tomorrow, and hope Jesse and I never made it back to another family outing.

That didn’t ease the pain in my chest at all. My eyes burned with a surge of tears. I liked this family.

Which meant what Miranda said was closer to the truth than I wanted to admit.

I always thought I’d been searching for a way out, but now I realized that I’d really been searching for a way in.

My race away from musicians wasn’t because they were all dicks, it was because my father destroyed the foundation for my love of music. His abandonment wasn’t just of me as a daughter, but of me as a musician.

A sob built in my throat as a soft knock at the door startled me silent. I bit my lips and stood.

“Sasha?”

I twisted my fingers at Miranda’s voice. She knocked again.

“Just a minute.”

“Sasha, I didn’t say that to make you upset. I’m so sorry.”

I opened the door and she looked as upset as I felt, wringing her hands and shifting from foot to foot. I forced a smile and stepped into the hallway. “I’m fine. Seriously.”

“I do that a lot.” Her face was sad. “I say things without thinking about how they sound. I’ve done it my whole life, and mom keeps telling me to shut up about it, but . . .” She looked away. “When those things come to me they’re so powerful I can’t ignore them. They’re . . . divinely inspired or something.” Her gaze swung back to me. “That sounds dumb, I know.”

I reached for her. “Not dumb. Insightful.”

She gave me a shy smile. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’d never thought about why I run, or why I’d swore to never date a musician.” I squeezed her hand. “You guys are worth taking a deeper look. I’ve had a great time.”

“Jesse really seems to like you.”

I stared down the hall toward the top of the stairs. “Yeah. I think I’m in the same place.”

“Except for that musician thing?”

I laughed. “I’m coming around on that.”

She grinned. “So you’re not mad?”

I hugged her. “Not mad. Not mad at all.”

***

Our final morning came too soon. We said our goodbyes and I fought the wave of tears. By the time Jesse got me in the car, I was a blubbery mess. We pulled out of the driveway and I waved until he turned a corner and blocked the house from view.

He squeezed my hand. “You okay, babe?”

I looked out the window and nodded. “I like them.”

“Me too.”

I caught his grin and slapped his shoulder.

“Did something happen between you and Miranda though?”

I stiffened, then exhaled. “No. We got into a fairly heavy conversation, but it’s all good.”

He leaned over and kissed me. “They really liked you. A lot. Mom asked when you’d be coming back.”

“Whenever you ask.”

He turned up the radio and we settled into an easy silence. Easy enough to let my thoughts wander to where they’d been attracted since Miranda asked the question. Jesse was moving into a space where it would be really tempting to trust him, rely on him, love him.

But loving someone meant giving everything. And for me, that meant my music, my love for it, my need for it—and if Miranda was right—my worship of it.

What it didn’t include was my buy-in on the rock star life.

There had been plenty of music this weekend—real music that had immersed me in a world I loved—and look how much fun we’d had. Jesse was super talented, but a weekend like this didn’t exist if he was on the road.

I wanted this weekend.

The drive home sped by and when he pulled off the highway and headed toward the house, I texted Kerri to see what she was up to. She didn’t respond until we pulled into the driveway and Jesse killed the car. He grabbed my bag while I answered her.

“Is she coming over?”

I put my phone in my sweatshirt pocket and sauntered across the grass. Being back here, I felt like everything was back inside my perfect little bubble. He looked crazy sexy, duffel slung over his shoulder, one hand on the railing like an Abercrombie & Fitch model. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and tugged on his collar. “She says she’s staying over at Axel’s today and the might stop by later for dinner to see how the weekend went.”