I hide my reaction to that. Aerosmith is one of my top ten bands. They had been on repeat in my ears when I toured in Afghanistan. Sometimes, Steven Tyler’s voice was the only thing that got me through the long nights.
So to hear Fletcher likes them too…
My stomach flutters a little.
“Keep practicing then. I bet he’d love to hear you play it.”
Georgie and I play together, working through each transition until she finds her rhythm.
An hour later, Fletcher walks in. He freezes in the archway, eyes sweeping the room.
“Hey,” I say, looking over the couch at him.
Fletcher doesn’t answer, his gaze darting between Georgie and me, then our guitars. Suddenly, my heart sinks. Fletcher’s one rule about me staying with them was to never be alone with his daughter.
Fuck.
“Oh, hey, Dad! Vince is teaching me some notes. Check this out.” She focuses hard on the chords, trying to get them just right as she plays the riff. It’s a little slow, but her transitions are smooth.
I smile at her. “Hey! Look at you. Already a pro.”
She grins and keeps playing.
Fletcher shows no sign of recognizing the beat. He stops behind me, dead silent. His throat works like he’s struggling to swallow.
Shit, I should’ve left.
I look up at him, worried I fucked everything up. Slowly, his hand comes down on my shoulder, much softer than I expected. The touch is warm and grounding. I feel it everywhere.
He turns back to Georgie, listening as she plays it again. “That’s amazing, hon. I love hearing you play.”
He continues on into the kitchen, where he sets a lunchbox on the counter. He looks around for the source of the smell, and eventually opens the oven.
I hand my guitar to Avalon. “Want to try?”
“Really?”
“Have at it.”
While the girls play the guitars, I go to Fletcher.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.
He frowns. “Why?”
“I didn’t even think about her coming home when I sat down. It was your one rule.”
He relaxes. “Oh. No, you’re fine, Vince. Honestly. I trust you. I’m just… I’m so used to people dismissing her because she’s a teen, you know? It’s refreshing is all, to see you with her.” He points to the oven. “Did you make dinner?”
My cheeks heat. “I—yeah. I wanted to give back, you know. Do something for you like you’ve done for me.”
A slow smile touches his lips. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know.”
His gaze drops to my mouth as if he’s thinking of kissing me, but he quickly steps away. “Well, thank you. It smells amazing.”
He tips his chin toward his daughter in the other room and lowers his voice. “I really loved seeing you with her.”
