I can hardly walk today. My muscles are screaming at me after my all-morning sexfest with Wolf. As soon as we got back to the house, we went straight to our bedroom to “take a nap.” He’s never pounded me so hard, which is surprising with his injury, but I wasn’t about to stop him. We were both sex-starved. Making up for lost time, I guess. I smile, remembering all the sweet words that came out of his mouth, along with some dirty ones, as I fill the last plate with food.
“Brunch is ready!” Terese calls into the intercom. I laughed at it when I first saw it, but the house is so big that it’s proved to be necessary. We decided to help Alice, the house cook, make a late breakfast for everyone before leaving for the studio at two this afternoon. I can’t remember the last time any of us has had a homecooked meal.
One by one, members of the band and the crew come out from their bedrooms. Apparently, everyone started partying as soon as they arrived at the house this morning. No surprise there. They deserved the downtime to just let loose, even if they will have to pay for it this afternoon.
Wolf shuffles over to me, shirtless and fresh out of the shower. He’s growling as he wraps his arms around my waist. “Don’t think I forgot how to punish you when you leave me with morning wood. We should go back to bed.”
I laugh and flip around to face him. “Are you going for a world record? Don’t you need a break?”
“Fuck no,” he growls playfully, but the intensity behind his words makes me hot. “My dick can’t behave around you. He lives for you.”
I melt a little, even though he’s talking about the stick between his legs and not him. I know Wolf loves me. “Tell your friend down there he’s confusing afternoon for morning. Honest mistake,” I tease. “And he can have me all he wants later. You guys need to eat and get to the studio.”
Wolf’s eyes light up. “You coming with us? It’s our song, babe.”
I smile as I remember the part “Dangerous Heart” played in getting us to this point. “Yes, I’ll come for a little bit, but I can’t stay. I really do have a shitload to do for Europe.”
The European tour technically doesn’t start for another two weeks, but we fly to London on Monday to rehearse the new set list. There aren’t too many changes, other the stage arrangement and some restructuring of their song order, but we need to get the jet lag out of the way before the tour. I have so much to do before we go, including confirming the bookings and making sure everyone has the right international travel documents before we fly out.
Wolf nods. “Fair enough.”
With a quick kiss, he heads to the dining room to dig into his food. Everyone has a plate at this point, so I start cleaning the counters and loading the dishwasher while Alice tries to shoo me away.
“Lyric!” Wolf yells from the other room. “Get your ass in here and eat.”
I roll my eyes, start the dishwasher, and then join everyone at the table. Wolf motions for me to join him since all the seats are taken. He pulls me to his lap and feeds me scrambled eggs while kissing my arm.
I’m laughing as I chew my first bite. “Stop,” I wave away another bite. “I can feed myself.”
“Oh, shit,” Hedge calls from the other side of the room. “Not only are they back together, but they’re going to make us all sick with it.”
I laugh as Wolf tosses a piece of bread at Hedge’s head. “Don’t be a dick. We don’t need a replacement for Crawley. Well, we do, but you know what I mean. You should work on getting yourself a girl this week.”
Hedge lets out a loud laugh. “I can have a girl whenever I want, shitface. You remember what that’s like?” He winks at Wolf, making my stomach unfurl. “I’m not looking to settle down anytime soon like you, chumps.”
Lorraine stands up with her plate. “I’m with Hedge. Nothing wrong with being single. We’re still young. And sexy as hell.” She grins, then tosses Wolf a look. “It wasn’t that long ago we were all single.” She looks at me and winks. “No offense.”
I turn to catch Wolf’s hard expression. I’m not oblivious of his past, but I don’t want to imagine Wolf as the ladies’ man everyone talks about. He’s never given me any reason to believe he’s anything but devoted to me.
Wolf’s eyes catch mine, and his expression softens. I lean in to kiss his cheek, and then I move to his ear. “I love you,” I whisper.
His skin bristles beneath my mouth. He doesn’t return my words, but before I know it, Wolf has me in his arms and is carrying me out of the dining room.
“You can eat later,” he growls.
I giggle the entire way as he carries me to the bedroom and throws me onto the bed.
The moment we enter the recording studio, I feel the same sense of familiarity as when we walked into the Aragon in Chicago last month. The rich, dark brown walls and sleek wood floors that lead to the reception desk scream money and class. This studio is one I frequented a lot as a child, and although the décor has changed since then, the feeling of importance remains. The feeling that any artist who walks through these doors has made it.
A dark-skinned woman with light brown eyes and long, black braids greets us from the other side of the room. I don’t recognize her, but I’m not sure there are many people I would recognize here anymore. “Ah! Right on time,” she says warmly. “Great to see you all again.”
Handshakes and warm hugs are exchanged energetically before Wolf brings me forward to introduce us. “Vana, this is my girlfriend, Lyric. Lyric, meet our sound engineer, Ivana. But you can call her Vana. We all do.”
Vana’s kind eyes twinkle with familiarity. It’s clear she knows who I am, but she doesn’t say anything about it. “Very pleased to meet you, Lyric. We’ve got a great setup in the studio, so you girls will be plenty comfortable.” She glances between Terese, Misty, and me. “And help yourself to anything in the green room. Drinks, snacks, a game of ping pong.”
Terese latches onto me and nudges my side at the words ping pong. “You and me, Lyric. What do you say?”
I grin at her. “You are so on.”
Excitement rushes through me as Vana leads us down the wide halls of the studios. Gold and platinum records decorate the walls alongside signed photos of the high-profile names that have recorded in this space. I know exactly where to find the photos and platinum records of Mitch Cassidy—next to Studio Blue, his favorite to record in.
To my surprise, it’s same one Vana is taking us to.
The layout of the room is exactly as I remember, but just like the lobby, everything else has changed. A large, white leather couch takes up the entire back wall, and a curved window separates us from the audio booth where the boys will spend the rest of their day. Instruments and microphones are set up in the center of the room on a burgundy and black rug.
Wolf’s stage crew is already taking charge, switching out the studio equipment for the band’s guitars and microphones. The drum kit remains, but Derrick’s sticks get placed on his stool.
As the guys begin to strategize their day, memories of great times with my father flood my mind in an unstoppable rush. It’s overwhelming, and all of it is exacerbated by what Doug told me. My father is in town, and he’ll be at the studio. He wants to see me.
As a kid, the studio was my favorite place to visit. My dad would sit smack in the center of the room, lost in his music, but somehow he would always catch my eye through the heavy glass and wink at me before each take. All I did was sit and listen, but it was enough to feel as if I was part of every creation. Besides, he used to call me his muse.
With acoustics streaming from all angles of the room, the sound always had a magical effect on me, as if the sound bounced off the walls and hit me directly in the chest. It was one of the many reasons that made it so easy for me to fall in love with music.
This is how all music should be heard. There’s nothing like tuning out the whole world, leaving nothing but the music humming through your body and soul. I swallow back the emotion in my throat. The memories of this place are so vivid, and it’s like that same little girl who would squeal with pride for her father has come alive within me and is ready to experience it all over again.
Wolf must notice something in my expression because he pulls me into his arms and searches my eyes with his. “You okay?”
I nod quickly, not wanting to make this day about me. It’s hard not to be anxious, though. “I’m perfect.” I lift up onto my toes and give him a peck on the lips. “Kill it, baby.”
He winks and pats my ass. “You know I will.”
The guys enter the large, soundproof room and take their places, ready to go to work. I smile when Wolf removes his shoes. My dad used to do the exact same thing, and of course as a kid I always followed his lead. On the occasions he would let me join him in the music box, as I used to call it, I would toss off my flip flops and adjust the mic, like it was something I did every day. Like I was pop star going to work, ready to record my next hit.
Giggling, I sink into the couch with the girls, all of our attention on our boys, ready for what we know will be an epic session.
“How long have you and Stryder been together?” Terese asks Misty while we wait.
“Since high school,” she responds in her usual bubbly tone.
Wait, what? My head snaps to the right to join the conversation. “I didn’t know that.” I knew they’d been together a while, but high school? That means they’ve been together for at least six years now. That’s incredible.
“You’re like an old married couple by now,” Terese teases.
Misty giggles. “Not exactly. We broke up for a couple years when the guys started touring. We’d see each other still, but the long distance thing doesn’t work for us.” Her eyes move to the studio glass where Stryder is placing a guitar strap around his shoulders. “I prefer traveling with him.”
Terese has a thoughtful expression on her face, and I wonder if she’s thinking about her future with Derrick. They haven’t been together very long, but I’ve seen the way they are around each other, so I don’t think she’s getting ahead of herself. She has one week with him, and then what happens? Will they try to make the long distance thing work out?
A sound through the speakers steals our attention. It’s time. I take in deep breath, bracing myself for the familiar sounds of the studio.
And it’s so much better than I was ready for.
The moment the guys start to play, the sound fills my body. Fills my soul. It’s like I’m hovering above it all, soaking it in. The emotions are heavy, especially when Wolf’s voice filters through the speakers. But almost as soon as it began, the tranquility of the sound is broken up by Wolf’s cussing.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” he apologizes while removing his guitar. “I need more rest on this hand. Can we get a backup to play guitar on this, Vana?”
I cringe. He should have been icing his hand all morning instead of trying to set yet another record for most orgasms in a row.
The engineer calls someone on the phone, and in minutes they have a guitarist standing in for Wolf. The guys immediately go back to work, deep in the zone.
My phone buzzes the entire morning, but I ignore it for the sake of the band. Nothing could take me away from this sound. Not even ping pong—not that Terese requests a game. She might be more glued to her spot on the couch than I am.
I let myself stay until the band takes a longer break to go over some takes with Vana. It doesn’t look like the guys are going anywhere soon, and I need to work. Not wanting to disturb them, I shoot Wolf a quick text message telling him I’m going back to the house, say bye to the girls, and then sneak out the door.
When I’m in the quiet hallway, I finally look at my phone. All numbers I’ve never seen before, and one new voicemail. I press play and cautiously place the phone to my ear.
“Hey, sweet pea.” My stomach lurches into my throat at Tony’s familiar, gravely tone that grates on my ears.
Isn’t Doug supposed to be babysitting him? Why is he calling me?
“Jesus,” he says with a frustrated breath. “I got a new number. Wanted you to have it—in case you wanted to talk.” There’s silence between heavy breaths. “Look, I’m sorry for being a dick the other night. I fucked up hard. But dammit, Lyric. Two years together. I was going to marry you. Joanna was… Shit, Joanna was a mistake, and you know that. I’m not even sure how it happened. But it’s over, and we can fix this. I know we can. You can’t just throw it all away—and for Wolf, of all people? Just—just call me back.”
The voicemail ends, and my blood runs cold. He has no right to call me. There’s nothing he can do to take back what he did. And if I’m being honest with myself, our relationship was over long before Joanna happened. Seeing them together just gave me the excuse I needed to walk away.
He was convenience. He was familiarity. Sure, I guess I loved him at one point. Maybe. I don’t know. But it was nothing like how I feel for Wolf. Not even close.
Instead of continuing down the hallway to the main lobby, I head in the other direction and peer into the familiar sound studios. All are set up in their unique way—some for instrumentals, some for acoustics, and some just for vocals. There’s even a theater on the other side of the building where I first learned to play piano. Well, the basics. “Hot Cross Buns” was about all I could manage at the age of four.
The theater still looks the same, but smaller. Funny how that happens. The same abstract oil paintings representing different eras of music still decorate the walls. Even the grand piano in the center of the stage appears to be the same. Amazing. What’s it been—ten years since I’ve been in this room? Since I’ve sat in this audience to watch private performances? Since I’ve been on that stage myself?
I smile and walk toward the stage, running my fingers along the edges of the seats as I pass them. This room. The room that fueled so many of my hopes and dreams starting from the time I was four years old. And the more time I spent here watching my father, making friends with the producers and artists that came through … the more my dreams started to feel like reality.
As much as I loved the studio, I could never sit in it for too long. The neverending arguments over creative control became too much at times, so I would wander around the building, almost always finding myself here in this room. I would sit at the piano and dream of playing music for a crowded room. My own original music.
I climb the steps of the stage and sit in front of the beautiful keys, letting my fingers slide across them silently. White, black, white, black, white. I test a few notes. And then a chord. I close my eyes as I feel the rush of adrenaline starting at my fingertips and working its way through my body.
The music owned me back then. This was my home for so long, just the piano and me. We could be anything. Create anything. And it was magic.
At least it felt like magic.
Expressing myself was never difficult, but finding someone to listen was always a challenge. The piano listened. It took my beatings; it embraced my pain. And most importantly, it spit out my truth, conjuring the most beautiful melodies.
I’m not sure when it happens, but at some point, I start playing. Really playing. It’s as natural as it ever was as my fingers dance over the keys, and it feels… Damn. My lids squeeze together tighter, and I remember how long it’s been since I last gave myself over to the music.
It’s not a hard moment to pinpoint because it was the same moment I realized my dreams were for nothing.
I was eighteen the last time I played piano, living with Destiny. My mom walked into the house and I froze at the keys, the hum of the instrument still ringing in the air. I remember begging silently for the reverberations to stop, to eliminate any proof that I’d been playing at all. Destiny didn’t deserve to hear my music, my innermost thoughts expressed in the best way I knew how. Six years later that damn humming still hasn’t gone away.
But now … it’s like riding a bike. My fingers effortlessly play a familiar melody, though I can barely remember where it came from.
The tune radiates throughout my entire body, and I’m right back to my happy place. I forget the Destiny and Crawley drama for a moment. Forget the reason I abandoned my intimacy with the music. It’s safe to feel it again. But to create music—that’s where the scary begins.
For the first time in years, I feel the release that lit me up from within as a teenager. When anything felt possible. When dreaming was just the first step to an entire world of possibilities—
“Now that’s a sound I didn’t think I’d ever hear again. Beautiful, pumpkin. Just beautiful.”
My fingers fade to a stop as my heart picks up the pounding melody in my chest. I twist my neck to face the source of the voice, not sure if I’ll be able to handle the flood of emotions already building within me. Our eyes connect.
“Dad.”
He’s smiling. A bright, familiar smile that starts with his eyes—always—and follows his heightened cheekbones to the crinkle in his nose, and finally down to his mouth. It’s that full smile that fills me with comfort. Aside from some new creases across his brow and around his eyes, he looks exactly the same. Styled casually in dark denim and a vintage Bulls t-shirt, he’s still as charismatic as ever. Strong. Confident. Tired.
Even his strides are just as I remember them. Long and determined as he approaches, his eyes never leaving mine. I realize I’ve just been staring at him, so I step away from the piano and hop off the short stage to greet him.
My dad hugs me, and I breathe him in. He smells the same, too. His aftershave is cool and sharp, familiar and comforting. The tears are filling my eyes before I can stop them.
It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen him, but I know the distance has been more my fault than his. The pain and suffering I went through with my mother somehow made me cold toward my father, too. In a way, I blamed him for how she treated me. If he hadn’t sent me away to live with Destiny, none of the betrayal and pain would have ever happened.
She never would have stolen my childhood. My trust. Thank God she never stole my love for music. But she did steal my dream of sharing my music with the world, and that’s almost as bad. She gave me a dose of reality I would never wish on anyone.
“It’s so good to see you, pumpkin.”
His words squeeze at my heart, and I finally pull away to get a closer look at him. I smile. It’s a small smile, but he reacts with a smile of his own.
“It’s good to see you, Dad. What are you doing here?”
He cocks his head. “Didn’t Doug tell you? I’m here to see you. I’m taking some time off between tours and writing. You know, I think this is the first real break I’ve taken since we lived together.” He smiles at the thought. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, pumpkin. Time off was overdue, and I hoped we could spend some of it together. Only if you want to, of course.” He sighs and looks around the room. “Other than that, I have no clue what to do with myself.”
I know my father, even after all the time apart. He’s scared of the time off. Mitch has always been a workhorse. Whether he’s on tour, or in the studio recording a new album, or mentoring newer bands to help them get an edge in the industry, he’s always moving. Always busy.
“It will be good for you.”
“I hope so. You look good, Lyric. Sound good, too. Better than I remember.”
I blush. He doesn’t know how many beatings my piano took after I left Chicago. He also doesn’t know it’s the first time I’ve played in years.
“So. Europe, huh?”
I move to sit at the edge of the stage and he follows. “Yup. Next week. The guys have some insanely obsessed fans over there, so things should be interesting.”
He nods, but I can tell he has something else on his mind. “Things okay working with the band? I heard about all the trouble with Tony. Hopefully the company took care of you.”
I make a face, suddenly uncomfortable. This conversation will lead to my relationship with Wolf, and I’m not sure what to talk about that with him, although it sounds like he already knows most of it.
“I’m okay. Hoping things return to normal, but what Tony did…” I scrunch my nose in fury. “He’s repulsive.”
My dad nods. “I’d say so. The story is already dying, though. He’s scum, and everyone knows his career will be over before it really begins. He doesn’t have what it takes to last in this business. Not many do.”
He looks at me as his brow lifts. “I’d say that Wolf character has a better chance.”
“Wolf has what it takes,” I confirm confidently. “He’s a good guy. Passionate about his music. Makes smart decisions—most of the time. He cares about his fans, his band. He treats the people close to him like family. He reminds me a lot of you.” I smile because I never thought about that before now.
“Doug tells me he cares a great deal for you.”
“Dad,” I moan.
He chuckles. “C’mon, pumpkin. I never got to be the father that kept boys away with my shotgun. Let me have some fun.”
I laugh. “He does care about me, okay? Happy?” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I almost messed things up pretty good, but we’re working it out.”
“You still writing?”
My laughter ceases, and I immediately retreat into my shell. The walls that Wolf broke through were built because of my parents, mostly my mother. “I haven’t written in the past week, but I’m writing some.”
“‘Dangerous Heart.’ That’s yours, isn’t it?”
My jaw drops, and I throw my arms up in the air. “How does everyone know about that? I turned it over to Wolf. No one should have ever known that I wrote it.”
My dad smiles. “Pumpkin, I would know your writing anywhere. You didn’t arrange it, though, did you?”
I shake my head, amazed at how well my father knows me even after our time apart. “I don’t arrange anymore. Wolf found the song after I trashed it, and he loved it so much he put it to music.” I smile at the memory. “I was enraged at first, but then we made a deal. He promised me his silence, and I gave him my song. He’d rather tell the world I’m the one who wrote it, but he respects my privacy.”
“He respects you. I like him more than Tony already.”
“You didn’t even know Tony, dad.”
His eyes grow wide. “I met the asshat. Twice, if I remember correctly. Pumpkin, you may have been mad at me for the past nine years, but I tried to stay in your life as much as you’d let me.
“He opened for me before you met him, you know. Hated him then. And then I came out to Vegas once and had dinner with you two. He was a real charmer,” he smirks, revealing his sarcasm. “Knew I couldn’t trust him for shit.”
I laugh incredulously. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”
He glares at me, his lips curved up in amusement. “You already hated me. I wasn’t about to fuck things up more than they already were. Besides, you’re an adult, and I’ve always trusted you to make your own decisions. I knew that eventually you would realize the error of your ways.”
“Ha! Says the forever bachelor.”
He groans and rolls his eyes. “No, you did not just bring up Forever Bachelor. I could have killed my career with that show. Damn near did.”
“I still tuned in every Sunday night. You were a real ladies’ man; that’s for sure. Did you really have to kiss every single female contestant, though?”
“Yes,” he responds with mock confidence. “I didn’t want to play favorites.”
“What was the point of that show, anyway? I watched it every week and never quite understood.”
“They wanted me to ride off into the sunset with one of the women, and that was supposed to be the big twist. That a rock legend like me would go on a show claiming to be a forever bachelor and then wind up falling in love. It didn’t exactly turn out the way they wanted.”
There are tears in my eyes from laughing. “You picked a winner at the end, though. Even said you were in love with her.”
“Lies!” he shouts dramatically. “All lies. We broke up a minute after the director yelled ‘cut.’ She despised me by the end of the show.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” I tease.
My dad shakes his head. “I didn’t claim to be the perfect male specimen. I just know that my daughter should never date a man like me.”
“Daddy, you’re a good man.”
“Not good enough for my daughter to speak to me.”
My heart hurts at his words. “Things just got . . . difficult. I don’t know. I felt like Mom stole a huge part of me, you know? I had big dreams. Not to follow in my parents’ footsteps exactly, but I was determined to collaborate with the hottest artists and work in a studio just like this one. After I found out what she did, I hated her.
“You know, it’s funny,” I continue. “Even when I moved in with her and she was never around, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her—not until she really gave me a reason to.”
It’s true. I always made excuses for her when my friends would come over and ask me where she was, or when she wasn’t in the audience to watch me perform at my high school’s talent night.
It’s not like I was alone when my mother wasn’t around. There was a full-time house cleaner and a hired tutor to help me with schoolwork. I had a chauffeur to get me to and from school and appointments. And then there was Deloris, my nanny, who took care of everything else. Deloris was my rock through those years, but still, I hoped Destiny would come around.
“You don’t hate your mother, Lyric,” my dad says. “You’ll probably be mad at her forever, and you have every right to be, but your heart doesn’t hold hate. That’s not you.”
I turn my head toward him and frown. “It sure feels like hate. She had zero remorse for what she did, even after she saw how much it broke me. I’d never felt more alone than I did in that moment.”
“You weren’t alone. Not at all.” His face softens. “I would have fought Soaring for you if you’d have let me, but you told me to stay out of it. I just figured there was more to the story I wasn’t privy to. Pumpkin, I would have done anything for you. Still would. Your mother…” He trails off. “I should have never sent you to live with her.”
I do not want to cry right now, but the tears are pricking the backs of my eyes and my throat feels swollen. I’m twenty-four years old, and I’m still crying over shit my parents did when I was a teenager. It’s time I move on from this. I just don’t want to be angry anymore.
My father slips a hand into mine, and my heart expands with love for this man. God, I’ve missed him. I give up trying to hide the buildup of tears. The expression on his face mirrors mine.
“Let’s do something together,” he suggests, his voice thick with emotion. “Like old times.”
At first I’m not sure what he means, but then I realize his eyes have moved from my blotchy face to the piano. I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”
“You were just playing. Come on. Play something with me.”
I take a deep breath. That hopeful smile on his face and pleading eyes… I can never say no to my father. And anyway, if I’m going to move past all this shit that’s been holding me back for so long, I might as well start right now.
He helps me to my feet, and we sit next to each other on the piano bench. He smiles as his fingers play around the keys, toying with melodies for us to play together.
“You ready?”
“What are we playing?”
He winks at me. “You’ll know in three keys.”
He plays the first line of the verse and my eyes immediately go wide. “‘Gravity.’ I still love that song.”
Without another word, my father places his fingers on the keys and starts the haunting melody from the beginning. His eyes are closed, waiting. I laugh, knowing what he wants me to do. I thought we were just going to play together, but no.
He wants me to sing.
I take deep breath, feeling somewhat shaky. I haven’t sung in years, except for in the shower. He starts the verse from the beginning again, and this time I’m ready. I close my eyes, prepared to feel the impact of the music as I let the words lift from my diaphragm and out into the surrounding space. Once again, I’m overwhelmed with emotion and filled with the buzzing from the room’s acoustics. This feeling … I forgot what this feels like.
Then something takes over me, a passion I haven’t felt in far too long. When the first lyrics escape my mouth, I feel free. This song was made for me. It may be about a relationship with a lover, but to me, it’s always been about the music. About my dreams of feeling grounded in my space when my world was filled with constant chaos, something only music could do for me.
“Baby girl, you’ve still got it,” my dad says after he hits the last note.
My chest is so full, it feels like it’s going to combust. I’m breathing hard, still reeling from the energy in the room. I’m trying to manage my way through my riptide of emotions when my dad rubs circles on my back with a strong palm.
I needed this. Him. The song. The reminder that I can still do this.
A slow clap starts from the back of the room, and I don’t need to look up to know who it belongs to. My heart races. It’s like Wolf’s soul is tethered to mine and he could sense something big was happening.
When I finally look up, I’m met with an expression of surprise and pride. He tries to hide the hurt, but I know it’s there. Another secret, exposed. I’m sure he has no idea why I would hide this from him.
Great. The last thing I need is another reason for Wolf to lose trust in me.
“Looks like we have an audience,” my dad says, standing and jumping from the stage.
And then I watch in horror as the two most important men in my life walk toward each other and shake hands.