“Dad,” I reply, clapping him firmly on the shoulder as I step inside. The furniture dotted throughout the home is sparse but decent, most having previously belonged to my grandparents. I follow Mum into the family room, where a cup of tea and a plate of her homemade gingerbread biscuits sit waiting on the table.
She knows they’re my favourite, the angel.
Mum and Dad settle on the sofa, while I sink into a floral armchair across from them. Leaning forward, I snatch a cookie off the plate. They’re still warm.
Dunking it into my tea, I take a generous bite. An ungentlemanly groan escapes me—nothing beats Mum’s homemade gingerbread. I glance at Mum, her eyes gleaming. She loves feeding people. It’s her love language—you only have to look at Dad’s pot belly to see the proof.
Dad murmurs around a mouthful of gingerbread. “So, what’s new, son?”
I swallow before answering. “Same as always—practising. The audition’s next week. I got you both tickets, just in case you’re able to make it. It’d mean the world to me if you were there. I know it’s a long trip for you both, but?—”
Mum waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be silly. We wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”
“We’ll be there,” Dad says.
Pride unfurls inside me. They haven’t seen me play in years, and the thought of them witnessing how much I’ve grown as a musician excites me. When I first chose to pursue music after forming the band, their concern was only natural. I understand how few musicians land deals or make enough to live comfortably—it was a risk. But I was never cut out for a life of desk jobs, shirt and tie, or buried in textbooks—sucking the corporate cock, as I call it. I hated school and studying.That was always Lucas’s path, never mine. It was never going to be. Once they understood how dedicated I was to music, their support became steadfast. After seeing Oliver struggle with his own parents’ acceptance, I recognise how fortunate I am.
“Thanks, that means a lot,” I say, and Mum’s lips tug into a soft smile.
Dad takes a sip of his tea. “Have you seen your brother since he moved back?”
I let out a long breath, brushing crumbs off my leg. I knew this was coming.
“Uh, no. I haven’t,” I say, rubbing at the nape of my neck. Might as well get this over with—like pulling a loose tooth. “Actually, speaking of Lucas, that’s kind of why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Mum leans forward, and she shares a quick glance with Dad.
“Yeah.” I take a steadying breath. “There’s really no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.” I close my eyes and say a silent prayer that they won’t bite my head off. Dad is known to be … unpredictable at the best of times.
I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous.
“What’s wrong?” Mum asks.
I open my eyes and meet hers. “I’m seeing April.”
Mum freezes, her mug halfway to her mouth as silence settles over the room. Her expression shifts from concern to something illegible, and Dad just stares with a frown.
It feels an eternity before anyone speaks.
Shit.
“Dad—” I begin.
He holds up his hand, stopping me. “I heard you, son. Just … give me a minute.”
Mum looks at me with surprise and curiosity. “You and April,” she says. “As in, you and April are …”
“Together. Yes,” I finish for her.
“Right,” she says, lifting her eyebrows as she nods to herself.
“How long has this been going on?” Dad asks, sitting up straight.
“A few weeks now,” I confess, rubbing my hands over my thighs.
“And your brother … he knows?” Mum asks, wincing slightly as she grinds the words out.
“He knows.” I nod.
