correct. “He won prom king.”
Now I’m the focus of Tyler’s deep brown eyes, and warmth starts at my toes and fills every part of me until I’m crossing my legs.
“Congratulations,” Haley says warmly.
“Doesn’t matter much if you can’t pick your court.”
My chest warms, and I almost don’t hear Haley ask me, “Are you ready for dress rehearsal tomorrow?”
“Think so.” I’ve practiced everything to death, and I’m going to go through it again in my mind tonight. I’d rather spend my time with Tyler, but that’ll keep.
“Glad to hear it. I feel as if I’ve barely seen you this weekend. What’ve you been up to?”
“Um, Pen and I worked on school applications today. Dad fell asleep and missed all of Endgame.”
“Not all of it.”
My gut twists sharply. I turn toward him, and there’s an intensity on his face that cuts through the dreamy haze.
Did he hear Tyler come home? See him?
My heart stops in my chest.
If he did, that could ruin everything in one moment of stupidity.
If he did, Tyler would be gone already.
The thought isn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped.
But Dad doesn’t comment the rest of dinner, and the conversation turns to cute things Sophie’s doing, whether I’m going to work at the library again this summer, and a new charity project my dad’s taking on.
After we finish dinner, I help Haley clean up, then volunteer to take Sophie for a bit before her bedtime.
I’ve just put her on my hip when my phone buzzes.
Tyler: I better hear you practicing through the window tonight.
This one-handed typing thing must be an acquired mom skill, but I manage to respond without dropping my sister.
Annie: I’m doing a mental run-through.
Tyler: I’m doing some mental run-throughs of my own.
Okay, so now I have to leave time for getting off before bed.
Not that it’s a hardship. I’d probably be thinking of him anyway.
The sound of a guitar from my dad’s office pulls me in that direction.
Normally he does paperwork there, but tonight, he’s playing. I watch him for a minute, the way he and his guitar speak their own language.
It’s beautiful.
Sophie’s squeal has him looking toward the doorway.
“It’s nice hearing you play,” I tell him. “You don’t do it enough.”
“I’m retired.” He shifts back on the stool. “It’s not my life anymore. You girls are.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”
Dad lifts the guitar over his head, sets it on a stand in the corner. “You’ll understand someday.”
Sophie squirms, and I shift her, stroking her soft pink cheek until she smiles. “She’s perfect, isn’t she? When do we get less perfect?”
Dad comes closer, folding his arms over his chest. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
My chest aches. “I want to take music lessons. Theory. Voice. Tyler’s been helping me“—his brows furrow, and I press on—“but it’s not enough. I know you don’t want to teach me, and that’s probably for the best because we’d fight the whole time, but I want to learn.”
I expect him to turn me down, and he looks as if he’s on the verge. “If I say no, you’ll find a way to get them anyway.”
“Yes.”
He rubs a hand through his hair. “All right, then.”
My chest expands.
Sophie spits out her soother, and my dad grabs it off the floor.
“If you five-second rule that right now,” I warn, “I’m going to have to tell her when she’s seventeen and wants to know why her life sucks. ‘Dirty-floor soothers.’ That’s what I’ll say.”
His eyes crinkle as he goes to his desk. “Haley’d have my back.” He pulls out a new soother from the top drawer, passes it to my fussy sister who latches on like it’s life itself. “Besides, you never had it easy, and you turned out all right.”
He looks at me as if waiting for me to disagree with him.
I can’t. Tonight, despite the emotional turmoil of the last forty-eight hours, I don’t feel like I’m bleeding out.
The road ahead isn’t easy, but there’s a glimmer of hope.
I cross to him and reach up to hug him with my free arm. He hugs me back. “Tell me one thing,” he murmurs. “Should I be worried?”
“What do you mean?” I ask when I pull back.
“Dropping classes. Staying out late. Swimming in your school clothes.”
I smile. “I’m okay. I promise.”
He searches my expression. “There’s nothing you want to tell me.”
“No. Night, Dad.”
“Annie.” I hesitate at the door, and he looks at me along time before nodding to Sophie. “Give her to me. It’s a school night. You have things to do.”
I think of