Sean

It wasn’t my style to creep around in hallways and listen to private conversations, but in this case, I’m glad I did.

When that bean counter said that Dean had closed the account, I could practically hear a piece of Anna’s heart crack. And after what she’d told me this morning, she didn’t have a lot to spare.

But now, as we rode down the elevator locked in silence, I was rethinking my decision. 

Anna tensed when I laid my hand on hers, gripping the handle of Willow’s wheelchair. “You mad about the bill?”

When she nodded, I took it in stride, but what did she expect, that I’d sit there and allow Dean to pay my kid’s hospital bill?

We both spoke at the same time, and I clamped my mouth shut so Anna could say her piece first. 

“That’s a lot of money, Sean,” she said, quiet concern creasing her brow. “I have a small amount coming from Gran. I don’t know how much yet.” 

Anna worried her bottom lip, and I almost laughed. 

The smile on my face was enough to make her scowl. “What?” she asked, irritated. And cute. So fucking cute. 

I dipped my head and kissed her lips. “Do you think I can’t afford it?”

The meek shrug she offered was all the answer I needed.

Discussing money with anyone, even my aunt, was a nonstarter. But this was Anna. We’d pooled our money when she was the one that earned more than I did working at a fucking coffee house. 

Once we were in the lobby, I pulled her close. “Money is the last thing you need to worry about.” 

You’d think with my house and all the useless toys I had laying around, she’d know this. 

Anna gave a little snort like the very idea was preposterous. And then she tried to wiggle free. 

Not going to happen.

“Anna, listen to me.” When her eyes found mine, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We made a lot of coin from the albums, but that’s not why you don’t need to worry. Chase is a wizard with money. He invested everything we made, doubled it after the first tour. That piece of property the house is sitting on? I own it outright, and two more parcels just like it. Got ’em dirt cheap.” I shrugged. “Anyway, Chase worked his magic for the next two albums, and now, we’ve got more money than we can spend.” 

Anna processed the information, her worry fading to confusion or disbelief. “I thought that was the reason for the tour. I mean, that y’all needed money.” 

I laughed. “No baby. The reason for the tour is because we’re a touring band. It’s never been about the money.” 

While I thought the notion might comfort her, Anna seemed to grow more despondent. Hiding her dismay with a smile, she said, “Thank you. I’ll look over my finances and reimburse you what I can.” 

That was never going to happen. But before I could tell Anna that, she was crouched in front of Willow’s wheelchair, extracting our little girl from the clunky contraption.

Once on her feet, Willow stood perfectly still while Anna placed a braided twine around her neck with a metal cylinder attached. 

“Kiss,” Anna said, tapping her lips, and Willow gleefully complied, cupping her mother’s cheeks. Trust and love and everything good swirled between them, and I just wanted to be a part of it. Since I couldn’t yet, witnessing the little miracle would have to be enough. 

When Anna stood, I motioned to the odd shaped pendant around Willow’s neck. “What’s that?” 

“That’s what’ll ensure you don’t spend twenty grand every time you take Willow to the park,” Anna said, smiling at my confused expression. “It’s her inhaler.” 

Suddenly the little cylinder took on mythical proportions. Whatever was in there stood between my daughter choking to death and breathing without distress. 

“Should she, um, be wearing it? What if she loses it?” 

An honest to goodness smile broke on Anna’s lips. “Do you think that’s the only one I have?” A laugh tumbled out when I didn’t answer. “I have one in my purse, at least two in the car—front and backseat, and one in nearly every room of the house.” She gazed down at Willow, who had a hold of her hand. “I’m a little OCD when it comes to the inhaler thing. I’ve also got a portable nebulizer in the car.”

I roughed a hand through my hair. “I have no idea what that is.” 

I made a mental note to look it up, but I needn’t have bothered.

“It’s like the machine attached to her bed at home.” Anna frowned, her good mood evaporating. “At Dean’s house, I mean.”

As we walked through the automatic doors and into the bright sunshine, I slipped my arm around Anna’s waist. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

She squinted up at me, shielding her eyes from the light, but I still saw the wall she was hiding behind. She didn’t believe me. 

I was about to tell Anna all the ways I’d accomplish this feat when she caught sight of the box strapped to the top of my SUV. Her eyes widened, and she stepped out of my grasp. 

“You bought her a car?” Anna whirled on me, incredulous. 

I rubbed the back of my neck, regretting not taking the store up on their delivery option. “Well, yeah, I had to. It matches the Dream House.” Anna’s brows shot to her hairline, and I added weakly, “It’s a set.”

It sounded better when the salesperson had said it. 

Releasing Willow’s hand, Anna slowly approached the car, then tipped forward to peer inside the tinted window. “Oh my God. Is there anything left at the store?” She stepped back, hands on her hips, looking over at me like I’d lost my mind. “Did you remember what I sent you for in the first place?”

I hit the button on my key fob, then proudly opened the back door, smiling. “Of course I did.” 

Anna ducked her head inside, then jumped back. “What the hell is that?”

Confused, I shifted my focus to the space-aged apparatus taking up a third of the bench seat. “That’s the best car seat on the market. And it’s appropriate for her age and weight.”

Cutting my gaze to Willow, I hoped she wasn’t oversized. Or undersized. Hell, I wouldn’t know the difference. 

A bubble of laughter tripped from Anna’s pretty lips. “Read that off the box, did you?”

I scowled. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Oh, she’ll definitely be safe.” Anna’s snicker turned into a full belly laugh. “And well on her way to a career in NASCAR. Did that thing come with a helmet with one of those microphones attached?”

Folding my arms over my chest, I watched Anna dissolve into a hysterical fit of laughter. If I wasn’t so happy to see the worry lines fade, I might have been offended. 

Once she got herself under control, Anna slid her arm around my waist, the first touch that she’d initiated in, well, forever.

“She’s not breakable,” she said, smiling softly. “I promise.” 

Wiggling free of my hold when I bent to kiss her, she left me confounded. 

“It’s not you,” Anna said in a faint whisper, swinging her gaze to Willow. “I don’t want to confuse her. She doesn’t know you.” 

Every nerve in my body twitched in protest. The more time we spent together, our fractured little family, the stronger my need to make us whole became. To seal the cracks.

“No worries.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I get it.”

Anna relaxed and then scooped Willow up. “Be a big girl while mommy tries to figure out your fancy new car seat.” 

After placing Willow in the front seat, she joined me in the back, and together we tried to assemble the state-of-the-art piece of equipment I’d bought to keep my daughter unharmed while we tooled around the treacherous streets of Austin in one of the safest SUVs on the planet. 

After five minutes, tugging and pulling on the buckles, I realized I might have been over-cautious. 

“Ma!”

Anna stopped what she was doing, then leaned into the front seat. Willow pointed at the center console as she peered hopefully at her mother. 

Anna glanced over her shoulder at me. “Where are your CDs?”

I climbed out of the backseat and then slid behind the wheel to hook up my phone. “I’ve got a playlist. Let me plug it in.”

“Do you have any Caged on there?” 

“No,” I replied automatically. “Do I look like an egomaniac or something?” 

Anna cocked a brow.

God, the girl knew me.

I reached under the seat where I kept my stash. 

“Here,” I handed over the dusty, leather-bound case. “Happy now?”

Anna smirked. “Yep.” 

As soon as she flipped open the case, Willow’s mouth dropped open, and she clutched the sleeve of Anna’s blouse, trying to grab the CDs. “Ma! Ma!”

Anna gently outmaneuvered her eager hands. “No, no, this isn’t yours.” 

After removing the debut Caged CD from the plastic pocket, Anna handed it to me. “Third track.”

She patted me on the shoulder before disappearing into the backseat to continue her battle against the mighty car seat.

The sun shimmered off the CD as I turned the silver disc over in my hand. My greatest triumph and deepest sorrow, all pressed into four inches of plastic. It was everything, and nothing at all. 

“The sooner you pop that puppy in, the easier the drive is going to be,” Anna chimed in. “Trust me on that.”

Willow’s eyes never left my hand as I popped the shiny disc into the rarely used CD player. 

Any single accomplishment related to my music paled in comparison to the look on my daughter’s face when the drums began to pound through the speakers. 

Bobbing her head, Willow closed her eyes, her little legs keeping perfect time with the beat. 

“She’s dancing.” My voice cracked in two, along with my heart. “Anna-baby, she’s dancing . . . to my music.”

“Yes, she is.” Anna jumped out of the backseat and then lifted Willow into her arms. Rocking her gently, Anna smiled at me. “Why are you so surprised? Her father’s a musician.” 

Adjusting the bass on the equalizer, I watched Willow in the rearview mirror as Anna buckled her into the seat. My jaw went slack when Willow altered the intensity of her swaying. Most people wouldn’t notice the slight variation. But I did. And my baby did. Willow had the same beat in her head that had accompanied me my whole life. She didn’t need to read the music or hear the lyrics. She carried the rhythm with her. 

Anna blew a strand of hair from her face as she sank into the passenger seat. “Finally.”

Enthralled by the tiny figure in the backseat, my gaze shot to the rearview mirror every few seconds as I pulled out of the parking space. “What else does she like? I mean, besides music?”

Anna yawned, propping her foot on the dashboard. “The usual stuff. Those fluffy little puppies on YouTube, I forget what they’re called. Sponge Bob. Finger painting.” She wrinkled her nose. “McDonald’s.”

Taking Anna’s hand, I pressed a kiss to her palm as I committed to memory all of my daughter’s favorite things, making a quiet vow to get her every single one.