I’d always respected the hell out of her. She raised me and my sisters pretty much on her own, with my dad being gone as often as he was. But she never sacrificed her career or her kids in the process. She juggled it all and made it look easy, which was why I hated disappointing her. I knew it broke her heart when I told her I didn’t want to go to college and wanted to pursue music instead. I wanted to prove to her that I made the right choice, but after last night, I wasn’t so sure.
She stood to greet me and reached out to pull me in a hug. She was taller than I was, made even more so by her heels. I loved how tightly she held me, kind of like I was still a little kid. Her embrace hadn’t changed, no matter how old I got or how much I grew.
“Hey, baby. You didn’t mention Ry in your text, but I was hoping he would tag along. I’ve been dying to see him.” She kissed the top of my head and gave me another squeeze before setting me away from her so she could peer at my face. Whatever she saw on my expression had a little furrow dip between her black eyebrows. “Let’s sit down and order you some food. You can fill me in while we wait.”
I sniffed a little bit, not realizing I was on the verge of tears. I sat down across from her and reached up to push my hair back behind my ear. “Did Dad say anything about the show last night? I left before I talked to him.” I was so embarrassed that he’d been there to witness my dream shattering into a million pieces.
My mom hummed a nonresponse as she picked up the glass of tea in front of her. “He didn’t say anything to me.” Her elegantly arched eyebrows lifted as she watched me carefully. “But I was also there, Bowe. You didn’t think I’d really miss your first big show, did you? I would never let something that means so much to you slide past me.”
I gulped and felt my eyes widen. It never occurred to me to ask if she was going to come with my dad or not. She was so opposed to me being a musician for a living, I just assumed she wanted nothing to do with that part of my life.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve asked you to come with Dad.” But now, I felt even worse for having a crisis in the middle of my big moment. I’d let both of them down. “Though, now I’m sorry either one of you were there. It wasn’t what it was supposed to be.”
She hummed a noncommittal response and quietly ordered both of us something to eat. After handing the menus off to the waitress, she put a hand on the table between us and wiggled her fingers until I placed my palm in hers. She squeezed my fingers and gave me a serious look.
“You know I’m not musically inclined in the slightest. That’s your dad’s area of expertise. I can tell you, as an observer, you sounded great, and everyone around your father and me loved your set. I can also tell you, as your mother, that you were struggling to get through the songs. I asked your dad what the problem was, and he told me that dreams don’t always live up to expectations when you finally reach them. He told me that it’s hard to suddenly realize you need to find a new dream, and that understanding it might also disappoint you. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand and gave me a wobbly smile. “I bet you think I don’t understand all of that—having a big dream—and being let down by the reality of it. But I do. When I was your age, all I wanted was to go to college and get a degree. All I could think about was getting a good job and making a ton of money, so I would never, ever end up back where I was raised. It was the only thing I focused on. It was the only thing I dedicated myself to. I was living a very boring life and missing out on all the best parts of being a young adult because I was so obsessed with future and so scared of ending up back where I came from. It affected who I dated and how I treated my friends. It made me behave awfully toward your Uncle Asa, and when your dad ended up in the mix…” she trailed off and shook her head. I could see how sad the memories made her and how deeply she regretted some of her choices. “I almost ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I refused to believe a dream could change. I hurt him and almost chased him away forever. Fortunately, your dad’s always been really good about not letting go of something he really, really wants. He made me realize it’s important to always keep dreaming. It’s when you stop that you’ve failed. He has shown me repeatedly that dreams are endless, so it doesn’t matter if one is a big letdown. He keeps making all my dreams come true even after all this time.”
I fake gagged and pulled my hand free. “Gross, Mom. That’s so cheesy.” But I couldn’t help the grin that broke out on my face. I loved the way my parents loved. It was pure and deep. It was brutally honest and raw. It was the foundation of our family.
I sighed then slumped down in my chair. “I realized too late that I made a mistake. I thought I needed to be in a band to make music and play my songs. I wanted to be just like dad, and somewhere along the line, I missed that I wasn’t making the music I wanted to make because I was trying so hard to recreate his success. I don’t know how I didn’t see it during practice or during any of the smaller gigs we played. I couldn’t feel it until someone else pointed it out.”
“Ry?” My mom tossed his name out so nonchalantly, if you didn’t know her, you would miss the sharp undertone in her lyrical voice. “He’s always been a bright boy.”
I cleared my throat and averted my gaze. “He picked up on what was wrong within minutes. I haven’t had anything to do with him in years, and he shows up out of the blue, crushes the most important thing in my life, and shatters my confidence. I don’t know how he’s always managed to see right through me, but I hate it. Hate him.” My voice trailed off as I spit out the last words.
My mom tilted her head to the side and gave me a pointed look. “You don’t mean that, Bowe. The two of you may clash, but that is far from hatred. Don’t throw that feeling around lightly. It can get you in the kind of trouble that can’t be undone.”
I blew out a breath and reached out a finger to trace a droplet of water down the side of my glass. “He apologized to me for something last night, but when I asked him what, he told me if I wanted an explanation, I would have to come and get it. Who does that? Why can’t he just say sorry and be contrite like a normal guy? I don’t know if he apologized for messing with my head, which messed with my show, or if he was saying sorry for some stuff that went down between us when we were younger. He never makes anything easy. He also left this morning, so you won’t be able to see him. Lucky you.”
My mom laughed a little as she reached out to tug on a chunk of my purple hair. “Like father, like son. Archers don’t have ‘easy’ in their vocabulary, baby. You and Ry go way back. And now that you’re both older and wiser, you’re going forward. You’re growing up and maturing; that goes for your feelings and the situations you’re going to find yourselves in, as well. As for Ry seeing through you, boys pay attention to what matters most to them. They can see things no one else can because they watch differently.”
“You’re making excuses for him because he’s your best friend’s son.” I scowled at her as she continued to smile at me.
“No. I’m explaining how he is because he’s my best friend’s son. And because I know he’s a good kid. I like him. And I’ve always liked the way he looks at you. He watches you in the right way, baby.”
I groaned and brought my hand to my face so I could hide both my blush and my surprise. “Good Lord, Mom. You are in fine form today.” She didn’t usually speak so emotionally. She was all about facts and figures and rarely seemed in touch with feelings.
She laughed again and nodded at the waitress who dropped plates full of food in front of us. I thought I wasn’t hungry, but as soon as I smelled bacon, I was ready to eat everything in front of me.
“Are you mad that my first show might be my last? I left school to get up on a stage, and once I was there, I quit all over again. I wanted to prove that’s where I belong, so you don’t have to worry about me so much all the time.” I popped a piece of hash brown in my mouth as my mother took a second to deliberately pick her words.
“I’m not mad. I
wasn’t mad when you decided to leave school. I was worried. I will always worry. I want what’s best for you. I want your life to be easier than mine was. I want you to succeed and feel accomplished. And I know from first-hand experience how hard the life of a musician is. The highs and lows are extreme. No mother wants their child to suffer, but they also don’t want to be the person holding them back from their dreams. It’s a fine line to walk, and I’m sure I have leaned a little too far in one direction with you.” She put her fork down and looked at me with serious eyes. “I want you to know I trust you to make the best choice for yourself, Bowe. And the only way I’ll be disappointed is if you give up and refuse to keep trying. You’re tougher than that.”
Was I? I guess I was about to find out.
“What do you think I should do next?” It might seem odd she was the parent I went to for this kind of advice, but my mom was the one who would give it to me straight. She was the one who never beat around the bush or played nice with the truth. She told it how it was, but with a motherly spin that always softened the blow. My dad tended to be gentler and a bit more indulgent. He would encourage me to the end, even if it meant I ended up spinning in circles and not getting anywhere.
“First, talk to your bandmates. Explain where you’re at and give them the respect they deserve after relying on you. They might not be who you’re supposed to play your songs with, but they got you to where you are now. You owe them an honest explanation.”
She was right, and that was definitely at the top of my to-do list.
“Once you do that, then I’d go get that explanation Ry owes you. Make him explain himself. I think you need to hear what he has to say so you can decide if it’s going to change the way you feel about him or not.”
I gasped and looked at her with a shocked expression. “Are you serious?” No way was I expecting her to tell me to go after Ry.
She shrugged and went back to eating. “You have to figure out how you feel about a lot of things right now. Music is only one part of that equation. I might not be your daddy, but I am a woman. I know good and well your songs are about someone special, and I’ve always had a pretty good idea who that someone is.”
Damnit. Why did I have to be surrounded by smart, observant people? Here I was thinking I’d done such a good job hiding all the confusing things Ry Archer made me feel. Turns out I was always transparent instead.
I turned the idea of going to Denver after Ry over and over in my head and was kind of surprised that I didn’t immediately freak out over the idea. I narrowed my eyes at my mom and pointed my fork at her. “You’re supposed to be the reasonable parent.”
She grinned at me and pointed her fork right back at me. “You can’t always follow what your head tells you to do. Sometimes you have to let your heart lead the way.”
That’s what scared me. Because my heart had always only pointed me in one direction: toward Ry.
Ry
IT WAS VERY late when I got back into Denver after driving the endless hours to get home. I was sick of being in my truck, burned out on fast food, and more than ready to get out of my own head. I’d had a lot of alone time to think about everything that happened while I was in Austin and to try and figure out what exactly it was that I wanted moving forward.
One of the reasons I left Bowe after spending the night in bed with her was because I knew I would want to stay the minute she woke up and looked at me with those golden eyes of hers. I had to go home for more than one reason, and she was always a temptation that I had trouble resisting. Plus, she had some pretty big things she needed to figure out herself, and she didn’t need me hanging around demanding her attention while her life was in flux. I figured if she needed me or wanted to address all the unsettled issues still lingering between the two of us, she knew where to find me. If she didn’t come looking for me and we fell back into the void of silence and distance, I guess it meant she was willing to let go of whatever it was that kept us tied together. I might have been reading more into our connection than was actually there. It always felt like I wanted more from Bowe than she was willing to give.
This time, the ball was firmly in her court. If she didn’t pick it up and make a play with it, I knew I was going to have to forfeit the game.
I tried my best to enter my parents’ house quietly since it was so late and everyone was probably in bed. I still had a month before I moved back into the condo I shared with a few guys on the team. It was on the outskirts of Boulder and had belonged to my cousin Remy when she was in college. Fortunately, my aunt and uncle agreed to let my parents take over the mortgage when it was my turn to attend the same school. For now, I was back at the house that I would always call home and acting like I had when I was a teenager trying to sneak in after curfew the few times I actually did break one of my parents’ rules. It was usually in the summer when I snuck off somewhere with Bowe, but no one ever needed to know that. It never worked when I was younger, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to encounter my dad as soon as I slipped in through the back door. He was always the one who busted me. He once told me it was because he invented all the tricks I tried to use to get past him. I’d sent him text updates every few hours to let him know my progress on the road, and he responded to each and every one of them, including the one I sent when I was only about an hour away from home.
He was sitting at the giant island that took up the whole center of our kitchen; his phone and a tablet he used for work lay in front of him. He only had one light on and was focused on whatever he was sketching on the glowing screen. It was a familiar sight. He was always doodling, drawing, creating something. Our house was filled with different art styles, and many of my father’s designs hung on the walls. It was part high-end art gallery and part colorful tattoo shop.
He lifted his head when I let the door close behind me, and I could see the obvious relief cross his face. My dad was a quiet guy and not one who often outwardly expressed his emotions, but he was easy enough to read when you were one of the few people he let into his tightly controlled world. A lot of people had called him rude or abrupt. Growing up, I’d often overheard other adults say my dad had an attitude problem, but I never thought any of that was true. He was just a guy who refused to tolerate bullshit and didn’t bother to adhere to social niceties. He was not the type of person who went out of his way to be liked by everyone, and instead strived to be respected by those he held in high regard. I’d always admired that about him. He simply didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. I spent too much time trying to control the way others looked at me.
I dropped my overly full gym bag on the floor by the door and walked to the other side of the marble countertop.
“You didn’t need to wait up for me.”
My dad’s eyes were the exact same color as mine. The color of winter, but colder. Sometimes I had a hard time meeting them. Like now, when he was not only looking me over to make sure I was okay but also like he was searching for something he’d always been unable to find within me.
“I did need to. I needed to see you walk through that door in one piece. Not like you to run wild, son. I’ve been worried about you.”
I propped myself up across from him and let my head drop. I was tired. Tired from driving for so long, and tired from trying to figure my entire life out in just a few days. Maybe I should be happy walking the path that was already laid out in front of me, but for some reason, I kept backtracking.
“You know me. I like a good plan. When that plan falls apart, I tend to react poorly.”
His dark eyebrows lifted questioningly. When I was younger, he’d had them pierced, and I used to be fascinated by the way the jewelry moved up and down with his different expressions. I used to be entranced by his ever-changing hair color. After Daire and I started being more active in school activities, and he took on more of the parenting responsibility since my mom was always on call, he’d kept it dark. I’d asked him about the change once, wondering if he was trying to fit in with o
ther parents or make sure that other kids didn’t have any reason to tease us. He’d laughed off my concern and told me he was just too busy and had more important things to worry about than his hairstyle. And it wasn’t like he would ever be considered clean-cut. He often wore his black hair shaved down close to his head, which revealed the very intricate and detailed black and gray mandala image that was tattooed on one side. In fact, the design that covered my arm was a mimic of the design he had on his head. I would never forget the look of pure and unfiltered joy on his usually solemn face when I asked him to draw it up for me. It was one hell of an eighteenth birthday gift.
My father had always stood out in a totally different way than I did.
He shut off the tablet and got up. He walked to the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. It was way too late to drink, but I didn’t tell him no when he handed it to me. He leaned on the counter next to me, watching my every movement carefully.
“You’re too young to have a plan for everything. Some shit you just have to let happen and live through the experience. That’s how you grow. That’s how you learn to adapt when the plan falls apart.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and gave me a hard look. “There are going to be people who move in and out of your life all the time, son. They’ll be important one minute and not so much the next. You have to let them come and go so you can figure out the ones you need to keep close and hold onto, and the ones you need to let go of. I would’ve let your mother slip right through my fingers if I hadn’t had anyone else to compare her to. I knew she was different because the way she made me feel was different from anyone else just passing through. It might make me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth.”
Fortunate Son Page 13