“All right, bud,” Otis said as he came down the hall from his music office. “We’ve got to get out to Bryce’s ranch.”
OJ sat at the bar and turned, a spoon dripping with milk in his hand. “I’m almost done with my cereal,” he said around a mouthful of food.
“You’re eating right now?” Otis asked.
“He’sstarving,” Georgia said over her shoulder. She too sat at the bar, but she nursed a cup of coffee instead of a bowl of Lucky Charms.
“Where’s your guitar?” Otis asked. He hated feeling like he was rushing, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with Luke’s wrath if he showed up late. It had snowed most of the morning yesterday, but nothing since. He’d checked the weather and the road conditions, and he should be able to get to Bryce’s in the regular amount of time.
But they still needed to leave in the next few minutes.
“By the door,” OJ said around more marshmallows.
“You realize we’re eating in three hours?” he said. “No one in this family is going to starve in three hours.” He gave his son a look as he passed him, picked up his guitar, and headed out into the garage.
They’d had a celebratory birthday breakfast for OJ that morning, because tonight, he was performing in the concert with Country Quad. Then there’d be a whole-family party at Bryce’s house, partly for the beginning of this winter concert series and partly for OJ.
Otis had four guitars in the back of his truck already, but he managed to squeeze in a fifth and then OJ’s, along with his backpack of clothes and personal hygiene products. Adam had picked up the puffy vests that morning and would bring them to the venue.
A certain excitement Otis hadn’t felt in a while streamed through him. He loved being a dad and being home with his family. Georgia still ran her bookshop, and he didn’t want to be touring the world nine months out of the year the way he once had.
But at his core, Otis adored performing. Playing the guitar gave new life to his soul, and music had always existed in his blood. Some of that seemed to rub off on OJ, though none of Otis’s DNA existed inside the boy.
He turned back to the house just as OJ came out.
“Did you get your extra clothes like I asked?” Otis asked. He’d never had to be in charge of anyone by himself before,and having OJ perform had brought a new layer of stress he hadn’t anticipated.
“Shoot,” OJ said. “It’s in my bedroom.” He ran back inside while Otis sighed.
He followed his son and looked at his wife. “What else is he missing?”
“I helped him pack his bag this morning,” she said. “He’ll have extra clothes to change into for the party, and his Polaroid so he can take pictures.”
“What about his cowboy hat?” Otis asked, because he hadn’t seen it on his son’s head.
“It’s right there by the door,” Georgia said, nodding to it. She rose and came toward him as Otis took the hat off the hook. “It’s going to be fine.”
Otis didn’t want to snap at her that this was OJ’s country music debut, and that millions of people would be watching—including music executives and record producers from around the world.
The boy had turned eleven today, and he didn’t need to carry that kind of pressure. Otis seemed to be carrying it for him anyway.
“He’s playing two songs that he performs brilliantly,” Georgia said, smiling. “And he looks just like you.”
“Not without the hat,” Otis griped simply because he could.
His wife ran her hands along his shoulders and down his arms. “Baby, will you promise me one thing?”
Otis would promise her the world, but he kept his head ducked and grumbled, “All right.”
“Try to enjoy this,” she said.
“I’m going to enjoy it.”
“Really?” she asked. “Because it sure seems like you’re expecting everything to go wrong.”
Otis met her eyes, something sparking and challenging moving through him. “Have you met our son?” he asked. “He’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”
Georgia giggled in lieu of an argument. There wasn’t one to be made anyway. OJ was no different than any other eleven-year-old boy, and they needed their daddies to make sure they had every piece in place before they showed up on a stage and performed for the world. Otis just wanted to be that dad for OJ.
