“Did he say something to make you think he has regrets?”
“No. And when I brought it up, he accused me of picking a fight. That was before saying without conviction that he had no regrets, especially when it came to me.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I do… but I know Shane is afraid of losing people he loves. He admitted as much to me… his mother… when he almost lost you… it’s a legitimate fear he has. Also, Shane is all about playing bass and me. The two are so entwined he doesn’t know how to make the separation.”
“The loss thing is understandable, Livi. He was five when he lost his mother. And my crap after he finally opened up to loving adults again only messed him up further. But he’s come a long way since then. That kid loves hard. Why do you think he needs to make a separation from you?”
“It comes back to the regrets.” I shared how excited Shane had been recounting details of the Santa Monica festival. “Even the times he’s played with DL, or just playing for me, it becomes a part of him. Playing bass is no different than breathing, a necessity to live. Like for you or Uncle Jack, or the rest of DL.”
“We have other things we need to live,” he argued, his brows rising in challenge. “I need you and your mom as much as I need music… and Shane needs you.”
“For now.” That comeback had the smug expression falling off his face. “You lived your life and found your dream, and you balanced your past when you found us. Uncle Jack and Aunt Leila found their common dream side by side. Past experiences you guys made all led you to where you are now. That’s very different from what Shane is going through. He isn’t making his choices.”
“Sure he is. He’s choosing to be where you are. There’s no way of knowing if Shane’s success will come from going to NYU or not. Maybe sneaking around with you, because I know for a fact that kid couldn’t give a shit about living in a tiny dorm with a stranger—”
Interrupting him with a laugh, I said, “So you’re on to us.”
“Of course I’m fucking on to you.” I laughed again. “My point is, maybe all that will ultimately lead him to his dream. Let things happen as they should, baby girl. With Shane’s talent, fame finding him is inevitable.”
“I know, and that’s exactly what I said to him.”
“But?”
I twisted a frayed string hanging off my shorts and sighed. “But… I don’t want him to turn away from an opportunity because of me or school.”
“And if he does, there will be another waiting down the road. He’s young, Livi. He has plenty of time to chase his dreams.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, and my eyes homed in on the thick black band tattooed around his finger, which served as his version of a wedding ring. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this… you two are meant to be together. Wherever Shane ends up, you’ll be right there with him.”
“Right where? Living on a bus, with no life of my own?” My dad’s eyes widened as my mouth gaped. Where that came from, I had no idea. And my comment clearly shocked my father as much as it had me.
“So this isn’t just about Shane having regrets, is it, baby girl?” Taking my hand between his, he pegged my issue. Clarity had tears welling, and I hated that they did. It gave substance to my absentminded comment, and to my father hitting the nail on the head. “Don’t cry, baby.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Look, I love that kid like he’s my own. You know that. Shane knows that. Everyone in our lives knows that. And I may have been a prick with this whole dating thing, and the sex—” Stopping abruptly, he shuddered and raised a large palm. “Well… let’s not go there right now. My point is no one can predict how their future will play out. Finding fame isn’t a destination. It’s a journey, and every famous musician has a different one. My journey was a fuck ton different than anyone in my band, as was theirs from mine.
“If Shane is going to school to make Leila happy, then you’re right… he will regret it. If you’re hanging on to him to avoid the hurt that will come… then you’ll regret it, always wondering if you held him back. If you’re afraid you haven’t found yourself yet, and don’t tell him as much, then you’ll regret that too. Either way, now that you have these thoughts, you can’t let them fester, baby girl.”
“I know… that’s my problem.” Tears now rolled relentlessly, increasing with each word out of my mouth. “I love him, Daddy. Sometimes it scares me how much,” I admitted, my voice raw and pained. “If I ignore this, I’ll always wonder if I held him back. If I tell him that we need a break, I’ll hurt him. He won’t understand and will think I don’t love him anymore.”
“Livi… realizing you both need some space doesn’t mean you don’t love him.” He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “It just proves that you do. Eventually, he’ll understand.”
Would he? And at what cost? I couldn’t bear to say that out loud. Just as I felt holding on to him tempted fate, not admitting that at some point I could lose him did the exact same thing. I’d been too jaded living in our perfect little bubble. Was all this my heart trying to warn me that our time was up?
My father palmed my face to be sure he had my attention. “Baby girl… you’re seventeen years old. I think you need to let yourself be seventeen, let Shane be eighteen, and live your lives.”
Knowing he was right, I swallowed past the pain and admitted, “Dad… to do that, I would need to let him go.”
My father did the best he could trying to cheer me up, going as far as pulling out a gallon of my favorite ice cream and two spoons. By the time we tandemly dug into the fudgy, peanut buttery goodness, he had me laughing my ass off with a story involving a game of strip poker on one of his early tours with Devil’s Lair.
“By the end of the game, I had lost one shoe, Jack was down to black briefs, Scott wore a pair of SpongeBob underwear, and Hunter was butt naked.”
“Oh my God!”
The grin on my father’s face was priceless. “He ran out holding his junk—” Dad pointed his spoon at me. “Don’t tell your mother I’m talking to you like you’re a guy.”
“Your secret is safe. Continue.”
“Anyway… he sprinted through the busy hotel lobby bare assed, without a stitch of clothing. Lucky for me, I got my hands on a picture someone snapped of him just before he hit the doors.”
“What did you do?” I asked, half-amused, half-scoldingly.
“I made copies of that picture and plastered it all over our bus, of course.” The pride in his words made it impossible not to crack up. Until a knock on the door had our heads twisting toward it. “Who the fuck is that?” Dad asked me like I’d know. Mom wouldn’t have knocked, so that meant the only people allowed past building security were his band… or Shane.
My heart instantly began pounding, and I didn’t know if it was from fear my dad would say something to him or because I knew I had to.