Dare to Dream (Truth or Dare #2) (9 page)

This isn’t coming out right at all. How am I supposed to explain to him something I’m not even sure I fully understand right now?

“Care to elaborate?” he urges when I don’t say anything for a long time.

“Okay, it’s like this… I left a piece of me back home when I left her. As much as I want to be here and give
the music one hundred percent, I don’t have that in me. She’s my only real connection back there.” I stare up at Orion, wishing the hunter could somehow give me strength. It’s a silly thing, really, but I know it’s the constellation Lea always seeks out in the night sky. “In a lot of ways, coming to Nashville felt like coming home. It’s like I was
supposed
to be here.”

“I can see that. But you’re not really leaving here when you get on that bus. You know that, right?” Okay, so maybe Aaron understands what I’m going through better than I thought.

“But in a way I am. Home has never been about a place for me, it’s always been about the people. I know I hid out in my room for a long time, but after Lea was here, I started to see you, Rebecca and the kids as my family. And so a piece of me will be here when I leave, giving me even less to put into what I have to do when I’m on the road.”

“Aww, you really are a girl,” Aaron laughs, tipping his bottle toward me. “That right there sounds like the start of a really cheesy country song. Maybe you need to take a break from writing.”

“Fuck you,” I chuckle, knowing he’s right on all counts. “I just want her here. It’s like it’d be easier then, because all of my family would be in one place and you’d all be here when the bus pulls back into the lot. Does that make any sense?”

“Yep. Have you talked about this shit with Lea?” he asks, crossing the deck to grab the last two beers out of the small refrigerator next to the door.

“That’s the problem. I know she’s not happy up there. I’m afraid that she’d move down here if I asked her to right now.”

“And that’s a problem why?” he asks, confused because I’m telling him that I can’t do the one thing that would seemingly solve my problems.

I spend a long time explaining what Lea’s family is like. How she’s just now starting to see that everything she’s done in her life has been for them. The longer I talk, the more I see the silver lining in my own detached family. As much as I wish they gave a damn about me, at least their distance left me free to chase my dreams.

“I still think you need to talk to her about all this shit, let her make the decision. But I suppose I can see your hesitation. I get along fine with Rebecca’s parents now, but it wasn’t always that way. At first, I felt like I would always be competing with a ghost for their approval.”

“How’d you get past it?” I ask, hoping that maybe he’ll have some sage advice that will help me show the Baker family that Lea and I are good together. If they could see that I only want to make her as happy as she makes me, maybe they’d be less upset about her coming down here.

“I didn’t give up. Every time her dad gave me a look that told me how little he thought of
me, I filed it away and figured out a way to prove him wrong.” Aaron places all of our empty bottles into the recycling bin before sliding open the screen door. “You’ll never convince him with your words that this isn’t some crazy dream that’ll never go anywhere. You need to think about her father every night when you get up on that stage and sing your fucking heart out. Eventually, he’ll have to see that you’re worthy, both of your success and his daughter’s heart.”

Long after Aaron leaves me alone on the deck, I find myself promising a cluster of stars that I’ll find a way to put all of my heart and soul into what I’m doing. It’s the only way I can look back on this time in my life without any regret.

Lea

Be patient with him. He’s going through a lot right now, but I know how much he loves you. I tried to knock some sense into him last night. Book your flight and tell me when you’ll be here. But this time, you’ll have to stay at the house or find a room on your own. Sorry. ~A

I re-read Aaron’s message that was waiting for me this morning when I woke up, hoping he’s right. There’s no way this conversation with my parents is going to go well and I can’t deal with the chasm I felt between Colby and me last night too.

After he abruptly ended our first phone call of the week, I stared at my phone, tears streaming down my face. He claimed he was tired, but I knew it was more than that. I couldn’t help but feel like he doesn’t want me to come and visit, even though he never came right out and said it. I felt like I was going behind his back by calling Aaron, but I didn’t know what else to do. He said he’d find out what was going on and let me know. True to his word, I woke up this morning to see his words of wisdom waiting on my phone.

Taking a few deep breaths, I ready myself to get out of the car and face my parents. They don’t even know Colby and I are dating, although I doubt that
it will shock them seeing as we lived together for so long, and now I’m going to tell them I’m going to skip out on Thanksgiving so I can spend it with him instead. They’ve never liked him much and I doubt this is going to do anything to make them see that he’s not the wayward slacker they’ve always thought of him to be.

“Mom?” I call out as I cross the threshold into my childhood home. It’s the first time I’m not greeted with a sense of peace walking through the door. Today, the spicy scent that I’ve always associated with the comforts of home choke me. I’m no longer the girl who bites her tongue if it will upset her parents and that’s going to be hard on all of us.

“In the kitchen,” she responds. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, schooling my features so she can’t see the fear written all over my face the moment I round the corner. Stalling for time, I take my phone out of my purse and send Colby a quick text.

Hope you’re having a good day. I’m getting ready to break the news to mom and dad.
I love you.

It’s late afternoon, so it’s unlikely that he has his phone on him, but I feel like he needs to know that I’m doing this for him. For us. When my phone chimes with a response, I can’t hide the smile on my face.

Day is good. Very productive. Remember that I’ll understand if you can’t make it. There will be plenty of these trips in the future—missing one won’t kill either of us. Love you too

“Everything okay, sweetie?” my mom asks, looking from my fallen face to my phone and back. I know he’s trying to make this easier on me, but he’s wrong. Yes, there will be plenty of other tours as long as he keeps impressing everyone he meets, but this is the
only
first tour he’ll have.

You’re not talking me out of it. I’ve spent twenty-one Thanksgivings with them
; they can get through one without me.

“Honey?” Her tone is more annoyed now. My parents always complain that I’m on my phone too much, but it’s just another thing they need to get used to. It’s the only means of communication I have with the other half of my life.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I assure her, shoving my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. I drape my purse over the back of a chair before going over to hug my mom, whose hands are covered in flour. From the looks of it, she’s getting a start on her holiday baking early. “Is Daddy home?”

When she tells me he’s not going to be home for a few hours yet, I’m oddly relieved. While it means I’m going to have to tell them separately, I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get my mother to see that this isn’t the end of the world and she’ll be able to help me explain the situation to my dad.

“Sweetie, are you sure everything’s okay? You’re starting to worry me.” She brushes the flour off her hands before taking off her apron. She pours us two cups of coffee and ushers me out to the sunroom. “Tell me what’s going on with you lately. You haven’t been coming home and I know it’s not because school is too far away.”

I laugh because she wouldn’t make comments like that
, if she knew the thoughts that keep me up at night. “Mom, you remember Colby, right?”

She nods, her brows knit tightly in confusion.

“Well, we’ve been dating since this summer,” I say, figuring it’s best to start at the beginning. Otherwise, none of the rest of this will make any sense to her.

My mother lets out an audible gasp, hands flying up to her mouth. Not the reaction I was hoping for. She’s never been a fan of his, but it’s not like I just told her I’m dating a fugitive on the most-wanted list or anything like that. “Oh, my God! Please tell me you’re not pregnant. And where is that boy? Why isn’t he here with you to tell me this?”

I cover my own mouth to hide laughter. With any luck, the truth won’t be quite as upsetting to her. I shake my head fervently as I try to catch my breath. “No Mom, it’s nothing like that. Jesus, you know I wouldn’t do anything as irresponsible as getting knocked up when I’m not married.”

My mom blanches at that statement and I feel bad. She and my father tried to convince everyone that I was a honeymoon baby, but anyone who can do math quickly realized that she was pregnant when they exchanged vows. I think it’s
a part of why they’ve always been so hard on me, pushing me to take the steps in life in order, discouraging me from even dating before I graduate from college. It couldn’t have been easy for them to worry about starting a family while they were still in school. But sooner or later, they’re going to have to realize that I can’t live my life trying to make up for the missteps in theirs.

“Sorry,” I say, cringing. Mom pats my knee, assuring me she understands while apologizing for her accusation. “Anyway, he’s not here because he’s in Nashville.”

“I’m not sure I follow. You said you’ve been together since this summer. How does that work if he’s down there and you’re in school?” For only being forty-two, my mother amazes me sometimes with how out of touch she is with the world we live in.

I explain how we started dating, leaving out certain key points including me being accidentally drugged at a party and waking up with him in my bed the next morning, figuring she wouldn’t hear anything after that. When I tell her that I’m the one who pushed
him to go to Nashville so neither of us would have any regrets down the road, her chest puffed out like it was a sign of how well she did raising me.

She’s much less pleased when I tell her about the week I spent down there with him during fall break. I pretend to ignore her questions about how I afforded the airfare, figuring she wouldn’t be pleased that I let someone else pay my way, choosing
instead to move forward to Colby being offered a small recording deal and the upcoming tour.

“That’s going to be hard, but it’s good that he’s finally working to make something of himself.
I only hope that he’ll be able to stick with it. That boy never was good at holding down a job for very long.” I stare at her, wondering when she became so condescending. It’s as if she’s forgotten that her parents struggled for everything they had. Her father is the one who pushed her to make something of herself, saying that life isn’t worth living if you don’t leave a mark that lasts once you’re gone. She spent my entire childhood reminding me of that statement every time I complained that I didn’t want to continue with dance or the forensics team. Somewhere along the way, she built a pedestal for herself, a perch where she can look down on those who haven’t achieved a certain level of success.

“Yes, Mom, it is hard. But we love one another and this is Colby’s footprint on the world,” I respond bitterly, hoping it’ll remind her of the words that used to be her mantra. “And just like you were there for Daddy when he was in law school, I’m going to be there for Colby every step of the way.”

She stands, pacing in front of the row of perfectly aligned plants at the window. It’s a gesture typically reserved for when she knows she’s fighting a losing battle. “You can’t compare law school to playing rock star every night,” she huffs, narrowing her eyes on me. “I know you think you’re in love with this boy, but you’ve been apart more than you’ve been together, by your own admission. You have no clue if the things that simply annoy you when you’re playing house will become deal breakers down the road. And if he were so serious about his devotion to you, I would think it would have been harder for him to pack up and leave. What are you going to do when he strays for the first groupie to flash her chest at him? You know he will.”

I launch out of my seat, wishing there was a way to teleport myself out of the house and back to the sanctuary of my apartment. “You know what, Mother? If you had taken
any
time to get to know him in the
four years
we were friends before we admitted that we were in love with one another, you would know that’s not who he is. He’s a
good
man who’s never had anyone willing to believe in him. Now, he has that. I’m not the only one who can see how special he is. And as for his devotion to me, you should know that he didn’t want to go, but I told him it was the only way I would be in a relationship with him because I
never
want him to wonder what his life would be like if he had given up on what he wanted for my sake.” With quick strides, I cross the kitchen to my purse, needing to get out of this house before I say something I can’t take back.

“Fame changes people,” she says, trying to justify her ludicrous foreshadowing. “It’s all over the news week after week. And you have a year and a half left of school. That would be a lifetime, even if you were both living here. I guess I don’t see how you plan to make it work when you have no assurances that he’s coming home to you at night.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would!” I shout, not looking back at her. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but we didn’t even get to the worst part before my mother turned on me. “And just so you know, you don’t need to set a place for me at the table for Thanksgiving because I won’t be here.”

The slamming of the front door behind me seems symbolic of the detonation of the bomb I just dropped on my mother. I run across the perfectly manicured lawn to the
Cutlass Colby left behind for me to drive while he’s gone, almost breaking down when my senses are filled with the scent of his cologne lingering in the upholstery. Somehow, I manage to make it two blocks to a vacant parking lot before I have to pull over, unable to see the road through my tears. I sure hope Aaron was right that Colby’s simply overwhelmed and everything will be okay because I know my relationship with my parents will never be the same after that little show.

**

I click ignore when my Dad calls, just like I have the previous eleven times he’s tried getting in touch with me since I left the house. I’m not even checking the messages anymore, hoping that eventually he’ll fill my mailbox and won’t be able to continue telling me what a disappointment I am to him. How he expected better of me than to lash out at my mother over something as silly as a boy who will be out of my life in a matter of months, if we even last that long. I can assume that’s what he’s saying every time he leaves another message because that’s what the only one I checked said, more or less.

I haven’t bothered telling Colby what happened because there’s no sense in ruining his day over something we both knew was going to happen. I’ll tell him tonight when he calls me. If he calls. God, I really need to tell him that I need to talk to him, one way or another, every day until we can see each other again. I don’t care if that makes me sound
insecure and needy, it’s the only way I won’t start to overthink the fact that I’ve just turned my back on my family moments after my mother did a fine job of planting doubt in my mind.

When heavy fists start beating on my door, I realize the error in my ways. I should have known better than to think my father would give up when I didn’t answer my phone. Now, I’m going to have to look into his eyes as he admonishes me.

“Hi Daddy,” I say meekly as I swing the door wide. What I see causes a tight knot to form in my stomach. I was prepared for rage or even condemnation, but my father’s sagging shoulders and vacant eyes convey neither of those emotions. The man standing in front of me looks utterly defeated. Like I’ve cut him so deeply with my defiance that, he’s been gutted to the core. He pushes past me, falling onto the end of the couch.

“What happened to you?” he asks, shaking his head, eyes not meeting mine.
I don’t respond because I can’t think of a suitable answer. I don’t think either of us are up for a fight at this point and everything I could possibly say would be a catalyst to that end.

I settle into Colby’s ratty recliner in the corner, the furthest seat from my father and the one that can offer me a shred of comfort. For all of the problems, all of my resentment over the way they’ve controlled every aspect of my life, I’m still
a Daddy’s girl at the end of the day. I’ve never pushed back when he’s told me what to do because I wanted to avoid ever seeing that look in his eyes. The one that says I’m not his little girl anymore.

“I don’t think anything happened to me, Daddy,” I admit, so quietly I’m not sure if he hear
s me. His silence leads me to believe he didn’t, but that could simply be his way of avoiding an answer he didn’t expect from me. “I know you’re mad at me right now, but I love him. And that has to count for something, doesn’t it?”