I was too, since the whole event was my fault. “Dad had to travel there with me to settle everything. She had no family. No assets. No money. She’d never been able to make a steady living carting me around.”
June frowned. “What do you mean? Our professions are fickle. It’s hard to make a steady living no matter what.”
“You’re doing it.”
“Yeah, well, I had to work two or three jobs sometimes.”
“She couldn’t.” I let out a scornful laugh. “At least that’s what child services told her.”
Her expression turned stunned. She blinked. “She tried to leave you home by yourself?”
I shrugged. That drink was looking good after all. I downed the rest. “She tried to support us. I made it hard.”
“Rhys—”
I cut a hand through the air. “I don’t want to talk about it. You weren’t there, June. Can you just trust me?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Sorry. It’s your business.”
I nodded, but the emptiness inside me yawned wider.
“How about we talk about your ex?”
I barked out a laugh, caught off guard. “Any other wounds you want to pry bandages off of?”
Her soft smile was understanding. “Bethany and Hannah are amazing. I think pretty highly of you, but I know they’re also part of their mother. What’s she like?”
Not like you.
Kirstin wasn’t exactly neutral territory, far from it, but June was asking in relation to the girls. Yet my first thought felt like a betrayal of the years I’d been married. Kirstin couldn’t carry a tune, her mahogany hair was short and curly, and she would let a room swallow her up instead of charming the occupants into submission with her siren song.
In the end though, she’d been exactly like June.
“She’s quiet. Not shy, just in her own head. I used to tease her that she saw the world through a lens and was always trying to figure out the right filter. She always was more comfortable behind a camera.”
June smiled. “I know the feeling. The world makessense. Or rather, you can make it make sense through your chosen art.”
Like June did with music. “The girls are only a little interested in photography. It irritates the hell out of Kirstin when they express an interest in music of any sort.”
A line formed between her brows. “Because of me.”
“She heard all the stories. Of us.”
“That had to be hard. No wonder she wanted to ban everything to do with me.”
“It couldn’t be helped. Small town. Most people knew better, and your family was great, but you know how it is.” I shut all the doors to my past. They could stay closed forever. “Enough about my divorce. Tell me about your journey. Not the douchebags who wasted your time.” I refilled my glass. I’d like to chuck the bottle at the damn fiddle-playing singer.
She grabbed the vodka and added a splash to her glass.
I smirked. “Want some OJ with that?”
“Nope.” She took a drink and closed her eyes, savoring. Her throat worked over her swallow, and goddamn, my pulse ground to a halt. Illicit memories flung their own doors open with a bang.
If she opened those eyes and looked at me like she used to when she was sucking my dick, I’d have to run to my shower.
I put the glass to my lips. The smart thing to do would be to dump the alcohol down the drain. But I downed another big mouthful instead.
“I worked as a server and a nanny and performed at coffee shops whenever I could. Sometimes I’d play for tips. Hoping to catch the ear of someone important.Soon the smaller venues got larger and one time I was playing when Lucy was in the crowd. She was impressed that I wrote my own music.” She shifted her gaze toward me like she knew I’d scoff at what she’d say next. “She liked my vibe.”
