CHAPTERTHREE
Connor
I couldn’t find Jason.He was no longer in the living room where I left him. I walked up to Killian Barker, Jeremiah and Tate Stone, a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach I just couldn’t shake.
“Hey, guys. Do you know where Jason went?” I asked them. Jeremiah and Tate exchanged a look with one another. I tried not to let it bug me—the twins were constantly exchanging secret looks with one another—but I couldn’t help but feel they knew something they weren’t telling me.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Killian admitted sheepishly. He had his arms around Camille Bridge, a beautiful B-List actress with long dark hair. His attention was clearly swept up in her.
“Maybe he went outside?” Tate suggested helpfully.
“Yeah, I’ll go check.” I nodded, making my way back through the bodies on the makeshift dance floor in the living room.
I checked the balcony, thinking maybe he’d gone out for a smoke, but there was no sign of him. Frowning, I slipped past bodies and continued searching for him.
Evan was by the bar, hitting on two gorgeous women who looked elated to have his attention. He hadn’t seen Jason either.
Dare hadn’t come down yet, and aside from the two of them, a small handful of people, and Jason…I didn’t reallyknowany of the bodies packed into my brother’s penthouse.
Even if this party was for me, even if the banner had my name on it, it didn’t really feel like this party was forme. It felt like a distraction for my brother, and another way to promote their tour. Sure, Cal had meant well, throwing it in my name…but parties like this werealwaysfor the band. For the exposure.
Tomorrow, elite photos of tonight would appear on social media sites, reminding fans The Forgotten Flounders and Killian Barker were on another tour, their first one in two years. This time, Tate and Jeremiah Stone would be opening for them.
Shows had been sold out since the day they announced the tour, and the pressure was on. I knew my brother felt it, just as I knew that wasn’t the cause of his stress. No…it came from old demons that still had their grip on him.
There were a lot of celebrities and musicians at the party; and although I was used to Calum introducing me to random celebrities, it was overwhelming without him and the other guys around as a buffer. Most of them were nice, but it all felt a little weird. Or I felt weird? Either way, my skin felt too tight and my smile felt too forced.
It was likeknowingyou’re dreaming and will wake up soon and being unable to truly appreciate what’s happening because you know it’s just a dream, and you don’t really belong. An outsider in an insider’s world, as much as I wanted to be a part of it.
Not that I would admit this toanyoneoutside of Gramps, but I was jealous. Jealous Calum got to run off and chase his dreams, and jealous I couldn’t do that. I felt envious of him, and of his friends…because they were living their dreams and I was…
Not.
I mean, I was leavingadream, but I wasn’t sure it was myrealdream. Not that it mattered now, I only had a couple of months left before I received my Bachelor of Music with my Music Therapy certification and joined the workforce.
Teaching music therapy and working with kids who had disabilities was a safer,wisercareer choice, and I knew it would be rewarding. Plus…it came with my father’s stamp of approval.
It was a career choice I knew wouldn’t further drive a wedge between my father and Calum. It was music based, yes, but at least I wouldn’t be in the limelight the way my brother was.
But I didn’t want that.
As much as I loved the idea of working with those kids, there was something I wanted to do first—something my heart yearned for. Something I was terrified to chase, for fear of driving that wedge in deeper.
I had plenty of time to be a music teacher, but less time for the other ventures that called to me. Music had been my therapy for years, and while I couldn’t wait to one day teach others how to use music to cope…I wanted a chance to create it first. My own music, my own sound.
Music was entangled with every aspect of my being. I lived and breathed it. I’d learned how to play the piano as a small child, under the loving instruction of my nan. Like my mother, I’d inherited her beautiful singing voice. While my dad had happily sat in the audience with Mom at every one of my choir and piano recitals, and paid for all of my lessons, he still didn’t think music was a sustainable career.
It didn’t matter that Calum should have proven him wrong by now, music was more than a sustainable career for him. But our father detested the notoriety of it, with Calum being in gossip magazines and having his private life exposed at every turn. He was of the generation who didn’t like their business splayed out in the morning entertainment column.
My father supported me in getting my Bachelor of Music more than he’d ever supported Calum with his band endeavors, but I figured it was because he assumed I was too shy to want that life for myself. He had no idea I dreamed of singing on stage, that when Iwason stage singing, it was pretty much the only time I didn’t feel shy or out of place.
Dad had no idea how much I loved songwriting, and I’d already penned several lyrics on many of The Forgotten Flounders tracks. I’d written them under an alias ofConnor Murphy.Mom knew, but I hadn’t told him because I wasn’t sure how he would react to the news.
For years now, Calum had been calling me when he was stuck on a song, when things weren’t flowing the way they should with the lyrics, and I was usually able to sort it out for him. He claimed I was his good luck charm.
Songwriting and singing. Those were my secret passions, my secret dreams. I held them close to my heart for fear they’d cause more upset in the fragile balance of my family.
Sometimes, when I couldn’t fall asleep at night, I’d let myself fantasize about what it would be like to join the guys on tour—actually join them—maybe sing a song or two of my own. I’d envision the crowd, the excitement, all those people there to hear me.
