“My first thought was to bring you one of ours in a flask. But then Huck made this,” Ashley says, her eyes moving to him proudly.
He runs a hand around the back of his head sheepishly. “It came out of a new portable machine I’ve designed a prototype for, so people traveling don’t have to miss their favorite cup of coffee in the morning.”
“It’s phenomenal,” I say, taking another sip. “Thank you.”
“He’s a genius.” Ashley beams, patting him on his giant, bear-like chest and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
I bite back my smile. All those times she would complain about never meeting a good guy as she sorted through the business cards from suited businessmen we’d get left. And now here she is, looking completely besotted with the guy who owns the best coffee company in the country and turns up to work in ripped jeans and steel toe-capped boots.
I’m so happy it’s working out for one of us.
“He’s also really good at packing, aren’t you, Babe? Let’sstart with the closet.” Ashley points at the open closet, and my father nods at her in agreement. “Good idea.”
“What are you doing?” I gape as the three of them spring into action like a well-choreographed military unit.
“We’re calling time on this shit for you. Because you’re too nice to do it and will worry that you’re letting people down. But you’re not,” Ashley says.
“What?”
She walks over to where my phone is charging and unplugs it, before tucking it into my purse.
“I called them, love,” Dad says, hesitation creeping into his tone. “You don’t play like you did in the basement. You’re getting more sick, not less. I began to suspect you were pretending. For me. And… for yourself, perhaps. But you don’t have to do that. I’m proud of you no matter what. Dusty old piano or sold-out arena. As long as you play because you love to, and not because you think you have to, that’s all I care about.”
“Dad…”
I look around the dressing room. We’ve only been here for a day. I’ve not even unpacked. Ashley and Huck barely have anything to do. But Dad hasn’t called them because we needed help packing.
He’s called them because he could see I needed support from those I love.
“It’s okay to say enough is enough. You don’t owe anyone anything, Tate,” he says, stopping in front of me. “Tell me you honestly love this, and that you’re in your element out on that stage, and we’ll all pretend this never happened. Ashley and Huck will go back to New York. And you and I will continue with the tour.”
I stare at them, while they wait for my answer.
Going back to New York means throwing away an opportunity that so many musicians would kill for.
Going back to New York means admitting this isn’t the life I want.
Going back to New York means being back in the same city as Sullivan and Molly.
I push the final thought to the back of my mind because it’s the one with the most power to stop me from doing what I know in my heart is the right thing for me.
“I hate it,” I admit in a rush. “When I’m not throwing up, I’m thinking about throwing up. And when I’m on stage, I wish I was throwing up, because it’s the more enjoyable option to me.”
The entire room audibly exhales in relief at my words. Maybe they thought they’d have to fight me into seeing what’s so obvious. I don’t know how I’ve lasted as long as I have on this tour.
“I want to write songs, not perform them,” I say with newfound determination.
“All right, then,” my father says with a relieved smile.
“Thank God!” Ashley sighs as Huck smiles at me from beside her.
“I need to talk to the tour manager. And we need to look into flights back,” I say, my mind running a million miles per minute.
“It’s all taken care of, Girl,” Ashley says, pulling me into another hug. “All taken care of.”
Two hours later, we’re sitting onboard a private jet, having just taken off from Las Vegas.
“How did you arrange all this?” I whisper to Ashley as Huck shows my father around the interior.
