You'd Be Mine(64)

“I didn’t mean to scare—”

Fitz lets out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, she wasn’t scared. I was scared. Kacey was scared. Jason wasn’t, but that’s…” He shrugs. “No. Annie was resigned. Cool. Calm. Ready. Because this wasn’t her first time. She’s been down this road before. She comforted me, dude. Told me you hadn’t hit rock bottom yet.”

My insides burn and sink at the same time. I think of the pictures at Annie’s house of her parents. I’ve blown it.

“I’m done, though. That was rock bottom for me.”

Fitz raises a brow. “Done with what? Drinking? The girls? And by girls, I mean Lora. What?”

“All of it,” I say. “Drinking, girls, music, touring. I have to go back to square one. I can’t keep going like this. I’m sorry for what that means for you.”

“You think I care about any of that?”

I shrug. “It’s your livelihood.”

“Fuck my career. It’s your life.”

His words ring out in the silence of the kitchen. The clock ticks on the mantel in the dining room.

“Clay, what part of ‘you’re all I have left’ did you miss? Family over fame, man.”

I nod. “Family over fame,” I repeat in a choked voice. After a beat, I say, “I’ll finish the tour, though.”

“And then what?” Fitz isn’t challenging, just curious.

“Then…” My gaze skims around the dusty house, as though I’m looking for clues. “Then, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take some classes or find a job.”

“You’re going to give up music?”

Even considering it hurts, and I rub at my chest. “I’m not sure. Maybe I need to go back to square one on that, too.”

Fitz nods approvingly. “I’m hungry. Want some pizza?”

“Sure. But let’s go out. It smells like a liquor store in here.”

He grins and slaps my back as he stands. “But you’re paying, brother. I’m about to be unemployed.”



* * *



The next morning, Fitz and I go visit Lindy. It’s my idea that we don’t call her ahead of time. We’ve only got two days before we’re due back on tour, and I’m afraid if she turns me down, I’ll let the opportunity go again.

She answers the door with wet hair and a harried smile that falls the instant she sees me. “I wasn’t expecting you—Clay! Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Lindy.” Fitz leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek just as Layla peeks from around her legs.

“More than fine,” I add, feeling awkward. “I hope it’s all right we came by.”

Lindy’s brows rise, but she stands back, allowing us into her small home. It’s a tiny, gray ranch with two bedrooms and zero kitchen space. I’ve been here before but am suddenly taking it in as though I hadn’t seen it. Her home is neat and clean but clearly worn. The walls are patched, and her kitchen floors slant toward one end. Her carpets are older and thin in spots from daily wear.

“I was about to head out back with my coffee. Care for some? Just brewed a fresh pot.”

I nod, and Fitz helps himself, clearly familiar with the kitchen. He hands me a mug as Lindy slides open her back door and we all head out to her deck. The patio furniture is a heavy iron, sturdy, but with cracked paint. Lindy sits first, followed by Fitz. I stand, shifting my weight, and try to lean against the railing. It gives, and I straighten.

Here I am with more money than I know what to do with, and Lindy is raising my niece and I’ve left her to struggle on her own. Danny would wring my neck.

Fitz and Lindy are making small talk, but I’m distracted by Layla out in the yard. She’s made her way over to a rickety swing set and a sandbox that’s more mud than anything else.

Putting down my mug, untouched, I maneuver down the steps toward the girl.

She’s talking to herself, piling up sand with a shovel. I grab another and squat down next to her.

“Can I play?” I ask.

She blinks, wide-eyed, looking so much like Danny, I can barely breathe. “Sure, Uncle Clay.”

I swallow thickly, shaking off my grief, and dig in.



* * *



Layla and I play side by side for a long while. I really like the kid. She doesn’t ask me lots of personal questions and doesn’t look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb. She’s a little bossy, but then so was Danny. There are worse things.

Lindy calls from the deck that it’s time for lunch, and I startle, pulling my phone from my pocket. I’ve been in this sandbox for over an hour.

“Okay, Mama!” Layla shouts back in a high, sweet voice. I stand and brush off my hands before her little hand finds its way into mine.

“Mama cuts off my crust. She’ll cut yours, too, if’n you want.”

Fitz snickers, and I toss him a glare before looking down at the tiny girl still attached to my hand. “I actually really like the crust.”

She freezes. “You do?”

I grin apologetically. “But your dad, he hated crust, too.”

“He did?” She beams.

Lindy sniffs loudly, and I force myself to look at her finally. Her hazel eyes are watery and red-rimmed. She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I mean, it’s everything, really. Thank you. I know this is hard for you, but she needs this.” She gestures at our conjoined hands. “You’re the closest thing she has to her daddy.”