sees Mace and the guys from the band.”
When I push open the door of my old bedroom, I freeze.
It’s exactly the way I remember.
My music boxes line the shelves, the same duvet covers the bed.
I set my bag down and swallow the emotion that rises up.
I had been expecting it to hit when I saw the house, but for some reason, it’s coming now with my stepmom watching me, one hand on her swollen stomach and her lips softly curved.
“This will always be your home,” she says firmly. “No matter what.”
“Thank you,” I say and mean it.
Haley leaves, and I turn back to my suitcase, pulling out the backless purple dress with a deep V neckline and the strappy sandals that show off my legs, toned from dancing.
Thanks to being on stage eight times a week, I have makeup and hair down to a science. Once my eyeliner is done, my lips are slicked a coral pink in honor of summer, and my hair waves down my back, I step into the dress.
This place may not have changed, but I have. Now that the run of my show is over, my hair’s back to its natural dark red and starting to grow out, still a couple of inches past my shoulders. My body was always lean, but now it’s strong from dance and long hours of rehearsing. I don’t have ready access to a pool since the building Elle and I live in doesn’t have one, but I do try to hit the gym three days a week and eat well in order to sustain the pace of my lifestyle.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being in this industry?
You have to want it—more than anything.
Even then, your dreams find ways to mess with you.
When I head downstairs, there are a ton of people in the great room and spilling out to the patio. I scan the room, but most faces are only vaguely familiar at best. I don’t see my dad or Haley or even Sophie.
At the bar, I accept the offered glass of champagne from the attractive bartender who checks me out with a grin as he passes me the glass, but I’m thrown when two strong arms band around me from behind.
I spin around and delight surges through me. “Uncle Ryan!”
I fold him in a hug.
“Good to see you, kid. How long are you staying?”
“Just for the weekend. I couldn’t miss the party.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
Surprise works through me, but before I can comment, there’s a light clinking of glasses and we follow the crowd through the open doors to the patio.
My dad is standing in the center of the crowd, a polite circle formed around him.
My hand tightens on the stem of the champagne flute.
He’s wearing a dark jacket over his jeans, his hair casually styled without any hint of gray. The hard cut of his jaw and nose haven’t changed, but I swear there’re more lines when his eyes crinkle against the sun.
I haven’t been home since first semester at Vanier, though I talk to Haley on video or audio calls at least once a month. Sophie makes appearances almost every time, but my dad does drive-bys only on occasion—as if he, like me, knows things between us aren’t okay.
I know he offered to meet me halfway after Tyler got hurt, but it felt as if he saw what happened to Tyler as proof I fucked up by moving to New York, by straying from his protection.
So I focused on achieving my dreams on my own. I’ve survived months I didn’t know if I’d make enough money to keep the lights on, weeks of ice baths after endless dance rehearsals until my limbs ached. All for the chance to be on stage.
Even though I’m not yet sure what I want to say to him, he must have some idea what he wants to say to me since he invited me here.
That he was wrong would be a good start.
“Thank you for coming,” he says to the crowd. “The music industry is changing in ways it never has. The old labels have consolidated, adapted, but they’re not meant for this new world. They put money in the pockets of executives. This new label is going to change all of it. Put the music and the musicians back in the…” His gaze meets mine, and his words trail off as an expression of disbelief takes over his face.
I suck in a slow breath as