“No, that’s okay.” As much as I wouldn’t mind a friendly face, I had no idea how my family would react to one of my friends visiting when they were having such a hard time adjusting to my presence. “Thanks, though.”
“Change your mind, let me know. I can be out there in a flash.”
“Okay. Has Harvey been texting you this week?” Because the man hadn’t gone a day without pestering me.
“Feels like every damn hour,” Jonas grumbled. “He mentioned something about coming to visit.”
“Uh-oh.” Harvey’s in-person visits usually meant he’d convince us to hole up somewhere until the album was finished. Not something I felt like doing when I simply wanted to go home.
“He wants an update on the album, and I can’t give him one, so he’s frustrated, which makes me frustrated, which makes Ethan panic, which makes Nix twitchy and you—”
“Mad.” I gritted my teeth. “We just finished a tour.”
“I know. That’s what I told him. But we’ve always been an album ahead, or at least close. He doesn’t want us to lose momentum.”
Our philosophy had been to hit it and hit it hard. Who knew how long this ride would last? Since neither Jonas, Nixon nor I had anything pressing waiting for us in Seattle, why not capitalize while we were hot, blow crowds away and make a pile of money doing it?
But change was on the horizon. The brutal schedule we’d kept these past five years wasn’t sustainable. We’d been on the road more often than home and that just wasn’t going to work. Jonas needed down time with Kira and their daughter.
We’d spaced the shows on the last leg of our tour apart, giving him time to spend with his family. I wasn’t sure what the next tour schedule would look like. We had a month off, but what next?
The scariest part was . . . I didn’t care.
Something inside me had shifted lately, and I was drained. Weary. Lonely.
Nobody wanted to listen to music written by a mopey woman, including the mopey woman writing it.
“Have you written anything?” I asked.
“I’ve got three songs I’m toying with. They’re close, but I’m not quite ready to send them to you and Nix yet. How about you?”
“I wrote something last month that’s edgier than our normal, but I like it. Same as you, it’s not quite ready, though. And then I’ve been messing with something this week, but it’s too early. I need . . .” I closed my eyes. “I don’t know what I need.”
“Space. Time.”
“Yeah. I’m tired, Jonas.”
Maybe I hadn’t realized exactly how tired until I’d come here and stopped for five consecutive minutes. There was no tour bus to meet or concert lineup to follow. There were no dress rehearsals or press events. Here, there was only time to sit and wish the music would come.
Why wouldn’t it come?
“I’ve never had trouble like this before,” I confessed.
“Want some advice?”
“Sure,” I mumbled. Jonas had gone through a block a while back and had come out of it famously, writing some of our most popular songs. “Sweetness,” included.
“Don’t worry about it this week. Be there for your family. Take some time for yourself. Step away from it.”
“Easier said than done.” In a way, I craved this stress. Because if I worried about the album, I wouldn’t have to acknowledge the hole in my chest that had been there for a long, long time. A hole that fame and success and money would never be able to fill.
Laughter from outside caught my ear and I stood from the bed, padding across the room to the window.
Mom had set up the sprinkler on the lawn. It was hot today, the high forecasted to be in the eighties, and the kids were decked out in their swimming gear, even baby Bradley. The little ones were shrieking as they ran through the water’s spray.
Colin was the leader with Evan trailing close behind.
It was the picture of a mini-Graham and a mini-Walker.
“Thanks for calling,” I told Jonas. “I’ll let you know when I get back to Seattle.”
“If you change your mind and want me there on Saturday, just say the word.”
“I will. Bye.” I hung up the phone and set it aside, keeping my eyes on the kids.
Their bright smiles were infectious. I laughed along from behind the glass as Maya squealed and jumped over the sprinkler. She was wearing water wings, unnecessary but adorable, and her blond curls dripped down her back.
My eyes tracked Colin as he leaped over next.
He was quite the kid. Eating dinner with him last night had been utterly entertaining.
At the time, I hadn’t noticed the gleam in Eileen Hayes’s eyes when she’d suggested I try the pizza place. Looking back, I saw it now, but I’d been too anxious to get out of the house. Anything to avoid the dinnertime parade.
Mom and Dad had been receiving a slew of casseroles and covered dishes from church members the past few days. The visits started at five and lasted until around eight. People from the church would stop by to deliver a meal and pay their respects for Nan, then congregate in the living room and gab. Some faces I’d recognized. Others were new, and Dad hadn’t been eager to introduce me so I’d hidden in this room.
When Eileen had suggested pizza at Audrey’s, I’d jumped at the chance, especially when she’d told me it was within walking distance.
The woman was a con artist.
Though, eating dinner with Graham and his son last night had been surprisingly . . . effortless. Not because of Graham—he’d barely spoken a word—but because of Colin.
Damn, that kid could talk and talk.
There hadn’t been a moment of awkward silence because there hadn’t been any silence period. We’d shared a Hawaiian pizza and talked about whatever topic popped into Colin’s head. When we were done, I offered to pay and Graham had scowled, refusing a twenty-dollar bill. He hadn’t waved as I left. Colin had bear-hugged me goodbye.
I hadn’t spent much time around children, not since my babysitting days had come to an end at seventeen. Maybe I wasn’t half bad with kids. Maybe Mom’s gift for youngsters had rubbed off. Or maybe Colin made kids seem easy.
My mom laid out a blanket over the grass and sat down with the baby, adjusting the sun hat on his head. Maya ran over and grabbed her hand, trying to drag her up and through the water, but Mom pointed for her to run with the boys.
Maya pouted and turned away.
She probably got sick of being told to play with the boys. I knew that feeling.
Impulse hit and before I could change my mind, I ran to my suitcase and pulled out my swimsuit. I traveled with one in case there was ever a hotel along the tour where I’d want to swim. It was rare because I didn’t want to be mobbed by fans, but when my muscles were especially sore and I was tired, I’d risk the hot tub.
I put it on and tied the halter behind my neck, then ventured outside so Maya wasn’t the only girl.
I spent an hour running through the sprinkler with Colin, my nephew, and my niece. We laughed. We screamed. We played. And when I went inside to dress, the smile on my face was carefree. A corner of my heart was at peace, because for the first time since I’d walked off our jet, I felt like a part of this family.