In my periphery, Dad pulls Tag into a bruising man-hug, slapping his back with his eyes squeezed shut. It’s beautiful. It’s wonderous. It’s everything and more.
As I wipe away the tears, Tag hauls an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. “Surprise, sis.”
***
“I cannot believe you’re wearing those T-shirts.” I’m grinning like a fool as I scoop a tortilla chip into a stone bowl of guacamole. “You look absolutely ridiculous, and I am so here for it.”
Mom boasts a colorful mural of Tag’s face.
Dad wears one of Kenna’s sneak-attack shirts that reads, “Honey Moons Made Me Cry and I Paid for It.”
My brother cringes. “Kenna’s fired.”
“Kenna has single-handedly paid off the rest of your credit card debt.”
“She’s rehired.”
My mother scarfs a steak taco, sour cream dribbling out the side. “We’ve watched every single show. They’re all on the YouTube station.”
Dad’s cowboy hat dips forward, nearly falling off his head. “Our town has been in a tizzy over you guys after your mother broke down into tears at a board meeting,” he says, dabbing his face with a napkin. “Now there are posters taped to light posts. Flashing marquees and signage that say, ‘Congrats Honey Moons.’ We’ve heard Rutland is even bigger. Even brighter.”
My heart skips, imagining my hometown basking in the excitement along with us. “This feels so surreal. One minute Tag is playing at coffee shops while I’m collecting napkins with half-assed lyrics between waiting tables, and the next minute we’re here. Playing in front of thousands of people who know every word to every song.”
“You’re making a big impact,” Mom says. “It’s more than music. People recognize that.”
“That’s all Annalise.” Tag shoots me a warm smile. “Her lyrics are golden. They hit.”
“It’s all of us,” I counter. “You guys bring the words to life in ways I never imagined.”
Mom sighs dreamily. “You’re all so talented. And Chase is quite the presence onstage. What a voice. Where on earth did you find him?”
My brother and I share a glance, speaking at the same time.
“He accidentally kidnapped me.”
“Lucky karaoke break.”
Our parents frown, eyes narrowing as they flit between us.
I laugh awkwardly. “Right. He gave me a ride home one night, and we got completely lost. Ended up in some hole-in-the-wall bar on karaoke night.”
“Best wrong turn he ever took,” Tag says, an earnest look sent my way.
“You have a lot of chemistry onstage.” Mom eyes me. She’s definitely fishing. “Are you still in contact with Alex?”
“Oh…no,” I murmur, dragging a chip through the half-eaten guac. “But I think he’s doing better. We both are.”
“For the best,” Dad adds. “I never thought he was the one. Something was a little off about him.”
“And it was well before the accident.” My mother leans forward on her elbows, two gold earrings feathering against her cheeks. “I know you blamed it on that. On yourself. But it was always there. The anger. The control.”
I swallow, fiddling with the sleeve of my dress.
For years I carried the guilt like a second skin, as if leaving him was a betrayal. Instead, by staying, I was only betraying myself, settling for less than what I deserved.
I remember Tag standing in his kitchen, voice rough with frustration:“He didn’t change. You just stopped pretending it didn’t scare you.”
I wasn’t ready to hear it then; I needed the story where I was the fixer.
