A Love Song for Dreamers - Piper Lawson Page 0,44
I listen. “How much did you contribute to this?” I ask after the first chorus, pulling out the headphones.
“I didn’t.”
“There’s your problem.”
Tyler looks past me, idly scanning the first-class cabin as if he’s reaching for patience. “I’m not going to write something if I can’t play it.”
“Why not? Music is in your head and your heart, not your fingers. Especially when you live and breathe it. You could lose every sense you have and still feel it.”
I pop the headphones back in and listen to the chorus once more, making some notes on the cocktail napkin in front of me.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to take a studio song and make it work for me. I can’t make the music I want.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. The morning scruff is giving me all kinds of ideas of where I’d like to feel it.
“Maybe you can make something better. You know,” I go on when he doesn’t respond, “It’s cute how much you care about putting Shay in the studio.”
He picks at his armrest. “I don’t.”
“But you do. You barely know her, but you want her to succeed, because she’s talented.”
The Tyler I knew before wouldn’t have been as invested in someone else. It gives me hope.
Not only for Shay, but also for him.
“What about you and your dad?” he comes back. “You still look stiff when you’re in the same room together.”
“I told you I found out Dad paid my tuition through an anonymous scholarship. Which means he didn’t think I could do it on my own.”
“Or he didn’t want to watch you struggle. He loves you, Annie. Maybe he doesn’t express it right, or use the words you want, but he does love you.”
“What does that mean—like how you’re all action and I’m all talk?” I tease.
“That’s part of it. But I meant more like the way you can imagine your mom loved you, even though you’ve never met her.”
The words land between us, and I blink to make sure I heard him right.
“That’s not true.”
Tyler’s eyes soften but he doesn’t press.
“If it was a big deal,” I go on, “don’t you think I would’ve contacted her? I don’t need to. I didn’t even know about her until I got that letter four years ago.”
“Yeah, but the difference is now, even if you don’t mean to, even if he doesn’t know it, you’re comparing him to her.”
I fold my arms over my chest, staring at the water glass, the liquid vibrating slightly with the movement of the plane.
“So what? You think if I want to square things with my dad, I have to contact her?”
Tyler’s hand covers mine, and he tugs it toward him, threading our fingers together. Warmth spreads through me. “You don’t have to do anything. But I don’t want to see it eat at you.”
I shift in my seat. “Did you make peace with your dad and what he did to you? The bills he left you with after?”
Tyler’s head drops back against the headrest, but his eyes stay on me. “Yeah, I did. It took a long fucking time, but I did.”
I turn that over the rest of the ride back to Dallas.
When the plane arrives, the car drops Tyler off at his hotel, then takes me back to Dad and Haley’s. I walk in the door and immediately know something’s wrong.
“Sophie, we need to go.” My dad’s voice is harsh as he stalks into the hallway.
“I don’t wannoo. I’m playing.”
My attention goes to Haley, who’s hunched over by the stairs.
“What happened?” I demand, rushing to her.
“I’ve been having some headaches, which isn’t a big deal except I don’t normally get them,” Haley says weakly. “Today I’ve been having stomach pains, too. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I’m not,” my dad responds. “We’re going to the hospital now.”
My dad and Haley take one car, and I drive Sophie in the other, following them. At the hospital, they take Haley and my dad into a room. Sophie and I wait outside.
I debate only the briefest moment before calling Tyler to tell him what happened.
“I’ll be right there,” he says immediately, and some of the worry ebbs away knowing he’s coming.
I try to keep Sophie occupied, but she races to the door that opens to where Haley is. I’m a beat late chasing her.
Inside, the doctor’s trying to kick out my dad. “We need to run some tests. It will be more efficient with only me here.”
“Fuck efficient.”
“Jax, it’s fine,” Haley insists, wrapping a hand