Why torture me like this?
It’s late afternoon by the time I’m ready to head back to the house. I’m raising the anchor when my phone rings with a call from Gigi.
“Hey,” I answer as I make my way back to the pilot’s seat.
“Hey, this a bad time?”
“No, I’m just out on the lake. Heading home, though.”
“Where’s Blake?”
“Back at the house.”
“You’re not still being a dick to her, are you?”
“No. Did she say I was?”
“Not at all. But I know you,” my twin says. “You can’t help yourself.”
“I’m not being a dick, Stan. Simply minding my own business and writing music.”
Pulling an all-nighter talking to her…
Jerking off in front of her…
You know, things you do when you’re minding your business.
“How’s the music going?” Gigi asks.
“Good,” I admit. “I’ve been having bursts of inspiration. Wrote two songs already and working on a third.”
“Want to send me something?”
“Nope, not ready. But I might record in the next few weeks.”
“Shit. Youaremaking progress. Have you shared anything with Mom?”
“No. You know I don’t like getting her input until later.”
Gigi’s sigh echoes in my ear. “I don’t know why you fight it so hard. I mean, just imagine a collab between you and Mom! It would be brilliant.”
“I don’t want to collab with her, Stan.”
“Jeez. Fine. Then don’t. But at least be nice to her.”
A frown mars my lips. “I am nice to her.”
“No, you’re not,” Gigi says flatly. “Any time she tries to help you, you shut her down—”
“Really, becauseyoulet Dad open hockey doors for you?” I interject. “Remember all the favors he tried to pull with the Olympic committee? You refused to let him help.”
“Yeah, but I was nice about it. You hurt her feelings sometimes, Wyatt. She’s so proud of you. She just wants to see you succeed, and you’re always snapping at her like she’s doing something wrong by trying to support you.”
I squeeze the phone tighter, trying to ignore the shards of guilt slicing into my gut. “Oh, come on, G. Stop.”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, kiddo?”
I snort. “Don’t call me kiddo.”
