The distinct sound of the zipper of my duffle filled the bedroom as I finished packing, but it silenced abruptly. I darted into the hall bathroom to quickly jam my toothbrush and a few other necessary items into a small pouch. Once back in the bedroom, I stuffed it into the duffle and finished zipping it closed.

That was a close call. I almost sentenced myself to dragon breath while I was in L.A.

Not exactly the kind of impression I wanted to make when meeting with freaking Solberg Records. As if my career as a songwriter wasn’t already off to an awesome start, now I had the opportunity to work with the second-largest recording company in music.

‘Course, ah, I thought as I literally patted myself on the shoulder, it’s sort of a step down considering my first job was with Ten’s album, which is with the number-one recording company.

I snorted and grabbed up the duffle. The door leading out into the garage from the kitchen opened and closed, my stomach knotted, and all sarcastic thoughts drained from my mind. With the bag slung over my shoulder, I went in search of the sound, finding my dad standing in front of the kitchen table as he sorted through the mail, car keys still hanging from one of his fingers.

He glanced up quickly when I moved into the room, back down at the mail, then back up at me once more. His stare zeroed in on the duffle, and his mouth drew into a thin line.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, dumping the bag rather loudly on the floor behind me. There was no point in pretending it wasn’t there. “How was work?”

“Spring break doesn’t start ‘til next week,” he said, still shuffling through the mail.

“It’s the weekend.”

All the envelopes were abandoned to the table, his keys joining them. “Seems like an awful big bag for just a weekend trip.”

“I got another opportunity…” I began.

Dad made a sound and shook his head. “What’s he need this time?”

I drew a momentary blank, then felt my brow furrow. “Are you taking about Ten?”

Dad paced across the room and began putting on a pot of coffee. We didn’t have one of those fancy machines that used those little pods. Dad thought they were frivolous. He was so old-school. We had a coffee pot that had most likely been my grandma’s.

“Ever since he stayed here last semester, he’s depended on you a lot.”

I felt my eyes sharpen on his back. I was hearing a lot of words he wasn’t saying. “We’re family. We drifted apart, but it’s good to have him back. You know we were more like brothers growing up.” He was like a son to you.

He cleared his throat and turned as the coffee started to brew. The rich scent filled the small kitchen, and I inhaled. “He’s changed a lot since you guys were kids.”

I considered his words instead of retorting a quick denial. “Yeah. I guess he has. I think fame would do that to anyone. He’s still a good guy, Dad.”

He measured me for a long moment, then relented. “Yes, he seems to have gotten his head on straight again. I think you had a lot to do with that.”

“And you. And Violet,” I added. After a heartbeat, I said, “And he doesn’t depend on me, not in the way you mean. But it’s nice to have people in your life you can trust.”

“Ten get you this new opportunity?”

My hackles rose. What the fuck was his problem? He was acting like I was fourteen and trying to watch porn on some channel that we didn’t get and came in fuzzy. I admit I used to turn on that channel and hope for a boob shot. Sometimes I got lucky.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “You saying you don’t think I have enough talent or ambition to get my own opportunities?”

“Of course not, Nate,” he grumbled.

“Sure as hell sounds like it.”

He glanced up. “So who called you about this?”

“Don’t you even want to know what this is?” I challenged.

He nodded. “What is it?”

“Solberg Records—you know, the second-biggest music producer in the business—wants me to write an original song for Aerie Boone.”

His brow furrowed a second, then smoothed out. “The country singer?”

“The most famous country singer. She’s practically Ten with boobs.”

Dad smirked, then turned around to pour some coffee. “I can’t say that’s a ringing endorsement. She’s been in the media a lot, just like my nephew.”

“And what did we learn from that? The media lies.”

Dad turned, mug poised at his lips. “Actually, I’m pretty certain the stuff they said about Ten was accurate.”

“Some of it.” Then I flung out my hands. “Who freaking cares? I’m writing a song for her, not marrying her!”

“Pretty sure she’s already married, to a Solberg,” he quipped, sipping his coffee. It reminded me of that meme with Kermit the frog making observations that were “none of his business.”

“Which means they want the best for her, and they called me.” I puffed out my chest. “If I do this and the song is as huge as I know it can be, my entire career will be set.”

“She’s a bad influence.”

I laughed.

“So what? You’re going to just give up on the last couple years you’ve been working toward your degree?” He shook his head. “You can’t just go to L.A. on a whim, son. It’s a fickle business. They’ll eat you up and spit you out just like they did Ten.”

I didn’t get pissed off very often. I was a chill guy. But I did have red hair.

That meant I wasn’t completely free of a temper. I had buttons. And right now, dear ol’ dad was pushing them like a game of Whack-A-Mole.

“I’m not going out there on a whim,” I snapped, holding on to the anger. It stung, actually. It stung he really thought so low of me. I almost felt betrayed. “I got a job opportunity. One that could make me a lot of money. One that could pay for the rest the degree you’re so intent on me earning.”

“Your tuition is free, Nate. You know that.”

“Because my dad works for the college. You want me to depend on you forever? I gotta be my own man.”

“By dropping out of college and running off to L.A.? That’s not a very manly choice.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!” I snapped.

“Watch your tone.” He warned.

I shoved my hand through my hair. “I never said I was dropping out of college, Dad. I said I got an opportunity in L.A. I have a meeting on Monday. I’m coming back. I know how important it is to finish my degree.” Important to you, not so much to me.

“Spring break doesn’t start ‘til Thursday,” he pointed out.

“So I’m going to miss a couple classes. I already talked to my professors. It’s cool. I’ll make sure I’m caught up.”

“Your education and honoring the commitment you made to Blaylock is important.” Spoken like a true father… with a gigantic stick up his ass.

“Relax, Dad. It’s not like I’m TP-ing the school and going to jail in my hoodie.” I pointed to the university hoodie I was currently dressed in. “Think how good it will look if one of your students makes it big in the music industry. It will make your music department even more prestigious.”

He didn’t say anything. I didn’t figure he would. He didn’t seem impressed at all by the extra recognition the music department at Blaylock University was getting because Ten composed most of his upcoming album there.

“I’m going,” I said, final.

His displeasure permeated the room and stunk like a dead body. “I figured.”

He knew he couldn’t stop me. I was twenty-one years old. I might live at home still, but legally, I was an adult.

“Well, thanks for the support,” I said, gruff and oddly hurt. I wasn’t about to show that, though. “I’ll be back before spring break is over, and I’ll tell Ten you said hi.”

I grabbed up my bag and flung it over my shoulder. Dad was still standing there drinking his coffee, watching me.

I started toward the door, the tightness in my chest not easing at all.

“Son?”

I stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“Call me when the plane lands.”

The side of my mouth kicked up in a smile he couldn’t see. Pissed or not about my choices, he was still gonna worry about me. Knowing that took away a lot of my anger.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Will do.”

I headed out in the driveway toward my old Ford Focus and threw my bag in the hatch before sliding behind the wheel.

I wasn’t quite sure why he was so against me following my dream, but he made it crystal clear going to L.A. was not something he approved of.

I never really defied my dad. Ever.

I guess I’d never wanted anything bad enough.

But now I did.

“Are you okay?” Violet asked.

I paused midway through shutting off the engine, then continued, snatching the keys out of the ignition and turning toward her. “We’re taking off for sunny L.A. No more cold weather or classes for a week. Of course I’m okay!”

She gave me a look that said she’d been friends with me long enough that she knew better.

Girls. They always knew, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t know, they knew.

“Derek wasn’t happy about the trip, was he?” she asked, quiet.

The sun was already sinking in the sky, making the air outside feel even cooler. Her blue eyes held a note of understanding that made me slightly uncomfortable. It was kinda crazy how fast we grew close. Besides Ten, I would say Violet was my best friend. One day she was just a girl Ten had a boner for, and the next, she was a permanent fixture in his life… and mine.

Sure, Ten asked me to watch out for her when he wasn’t around—he was beyond overprotective—but I hung out with her because I liked her. Violet was pretty cool.

I sighed. “He definitely wasn’t giving me the warm and fuzzy feeling when I left.”

She nodded. “Between you and me, I think it bothers Stark a lot more than he lets on.”

“That my dad doesn’t want me to come to L.A.?”

She laughed and shoved my arm. “No, that Derek isn’t as supportive of Stark’s career as he hoped.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me.”

Violet smiled, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Me, either.”

See? She just, like, knew stuff.

“My dad will get over it,” I replied, shoving open the door, allowing cold air to rush inside.

“And if he doesn’t?” she asked, leaning over the center console to look at me through the open door.

My chest tightened, reminding me of how I’d felt when I left the house. Girls talked too much.

“He will.” I slammed the car door and opened the hatch.

Violet ran around the back of the car, ducking beside me and blowing on her bare fingers.

I frowned. “Where’s your gloves?”

“We’re flying to L.A. I’m not bringing gloves.”

I shrugged and grabbed up both our bags.

“I’ll take mine.”

I ignored her and motioned to the hatch. “Close that for me.” Then I continued toward the plane that sat near the hangar I’d parked beside.

“I can carry my own bag,” Violet said, rushing to catch up. I noticed her carrying the small backpack she always had with her and nodded toward it.

“You have one.”

“You and Stark act like I’m an invalid.”

“Do not,” I shot back.

“Do so.”

Truth was we knew she wasn’t an invalid. But yeah, maybe we were a little more eager to do stuff for her because of her rheumatoid arthritis. It was only because we cared.

The set of stairs was already folded out for us to board. Movement at the top of the steps caught my attention, but I was slower to look up because I figured it was just the pilot.

Beside me, Violet gasped. “Stark!”

Violet didn’t call my cousin by his first name. She called him by his last name (long story).

It was as though our argument hadn’t even happened. One minute she was telling me she wanted to carry her own crap, and the next, she was tossing that backpack of hers at me.

“I’m pretty sure that doesn’t go there!” I announced even as she hung it around my neck.

“Did you know he was coming?” she exclaimed, her eyes bright.

“There’s my girl,” Stark called from the doorway of the plane.

She made a sound of impatience and darted away.

“Be careful!” he scolded her.

Violet’s laugh floated behind her as she fumbled up the stairs in her Adidas.

“Next time you want to carry your own bag, I’m going to remind you of this!” I yelled behind her. “She better tip me,” I griped as I kept walking.

At the top of the stairs, Violet launched herself at Stark, and the pair fell backward, disappearing out of the doorway.

This was going to be a long flight.

I heard him laughing inside. When I reached the top, his hand shot out and relieved me of Violet’s bag.

“You’re spoiling her, man,” I told Ten. “She thinks I’m her personal valet!”

“Do not!” Violet rebutted.

I pointed to the backpack hanging around my neck. “This isn’t a fashion statement.”

We had a good brother-sister relationship happening. I liked to help foster that along by arguing with her.

Ten pulled it over my head and tossed it on a nearby bench seat along one side of the plane. It looked like a cream-colored leather couch. Soon as I was relieved of all the baggage, Violet filled his arms again, and he grinned at me from over her shoulder, holding out his fist. I pounded it out and then went toward a table with some chairs around it.

“You called from the plane,” I mused.

“Like I’d sit at home and let my girl fly out to L.A. without me.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” I scoffed.

“Of course not,” Violet replied instantly. Then she turned to Ten. “No security this trip?”

“They’ll meet us at the strip when we land. It’s family time now.”

Partway through the flight, Violet fell asleep in Ten’s lap, and I was staring out into the dark sky.

“How bad was it?” Ten asked.

I knew he was talking about my dad.

“Could’ve been worse.”

After a few moments of silence, Ten’s voice reached across the plane once more. “Is this what you want?”

I looked at him then. His gaze was steady. The point-blank question sort of caught me off guard. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Black and white. Probably because it wasn’t just black and white, but I appreciated the perspective Ten brought in that moment.

Songwriting was my dream. But was this what I wanted? Reaching for it despite my father’s strong reservations—the man who had always been there for me?

I rummaged deep down in my gut. Past the place where the Fruity Pebbles and corndogs went. Past the sarcasm and the jokes.

I swallowed before replying. My cousin didn’t rush me or interpret my silence as indecision. That was the thing about Ten, the thing I think my dad never quite realized.

Ten’s fame didn’t ruin his life. Or the man he could have been. It could have. If he’d let it.

The business he chose (or the one that chose him) didn’t define him. He defined it. And all the struggle to get to where he was right now, with a sleeping blonde in his lap, shaped him. Made him stronger.

“Yes,” was all I said, despite all the words working through my head.

Ten nodded. “Then we’ll work it out. Uncle Derek will come around.”

I glanced back out the small window.

I sure hoped he was right.