Lyric doesn’t sleep. She’s restless and rises at least dozen times to go to the bathroom, for no other reason than to get up. I can tell her mind is working a million miles an hour, and it makes my heart ache, but there’s nothing I can do. She’s refusing my comfort. Doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s mad. She cries. But she’s silent.
When she slides the silky white comforter from her body and leaves our bed for what feels like the hundredth time, I sit up and wait. Her feet barely make a noise as she sneaks across the marble floor, stopping just long enough to shut the door behind her and flip on the light. Even in her despair she’s worried about waking me up.
After a few minutes of hideous silence in a California King bed that feels far too empty, I stand and follow her tracks across the room. As soon I approach the bathroom, the light through the crack at the bottom of fades to black and the door opens to reveal my beautiful, puffy-eyed girl.
She sees me but avoids eye contact as she tries to move around me, so I step to the side to catch her and wrap my arms around her instead.
“Not right now,” she pleads.
This time I don’t listen. I tighten my hold and bury my nose in the long, wavy strands of her sun-kissed brown hair near her ear. Lyric still smells the way she did after her shower, of green apple shampoo and apricot face wash. Sexy and vibrant and good. Just like her. Seeing her like this is like taking a blow to my gut.
“I promise you, Lyric, we’re going to get your songbook back. If that woman even thinks about stealing another song from you, she’s going to pay for it.”
Lyric lets out a choked breath, and I pull her even closer. Her weight falls into me, letting me hold her as she plants her face in the crook of my arm and cries. “Why can’t she just leave me alone?”
My jaw clenches. “She’s sick, Lyric. There’s no use making sense of her actions. I don’t think it’s possible. What I do know is that you’ve got more talent and heart inside you than she’s ever had. It must drive her crazy to have a daughter with more talent in her pinky than she does in her entire body.”
Lyric shakes her head. “Stop. That can’t possibly be true,” she says, and I hate that she gives her mother this power. “Destiny spent an entire decade in the limelight. She had everything she could possibly want. And then I came along and she acts like I ruined her life just by existing.”
What do I need to do to convince Lyric of how amazing she is? That her mother is nothing but a washed-up mess who had promise, but zero heart to back it up. Looks and talent can only get you so far in this industry and Destiny’s time ran out. I can’t say any of that to Lyric, because as much as she despises her mom right now, she still loves her. She wouldn’t be crying otherwise.
“Babe, listen to me.” I lean back and bend at the knees to meet Lyric’s eyes. “Destiny Lane doesn’t deserve your tears. Or your pain. She doesn’t have the first clue what it means to be a decent human being, let alone a mother.” I swallow against the ache in my chest as I watch Lyric’s expression crumble again. “It’s time to focus on what’s best for you. Your career. Your life. Baby, this is your time. Don’t let her take this from you.”
When she leans into me again and continues to fall apart in my arms, we stay there for a few minutes before I finally lift and carry her to bed. I pull the covers over her and sit beside her while her breathing steadies. Her eyes are still wide open.
“Do you want me to get you something? To sleep?” I hesitate, because the last thing I want to do is give Lyric a way to shut reality out. But so help me if I let my girl suffer for another second tonight.
She nods, almost eagerly, so I lift myself from the bed and walk to the bathroom. I search my bags for my Tylenol PM. I rarely have time to sleep on the road, so when there is and my mind is on overload, I take one of these suckers. It kills my energy for a couple days, but a lack of sleep might kill me faster. I grab Lyric a tiny blue pill and a bottle of water from the counter and rejoin her in bed.
She swallows it down and then pulls me into her arms. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I kiss the top of her head and let out a breath. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”
It’s two in the afternoon when we break from the studio. It’s supposed to be a two-hour lunch, but I’m not sure if I’m coming back. I tell the guys to record without me if I can’t make it. Mitch has been diligently providing advice and feedback, and since I told him about what happened with Lyric and why she had to skip their lunch, he told me to go check on her and call him later.
She’s still asleep when I get home, which explains why my dozens of calls and texts went unanswered. I’ve been a wreck all day worrying about her. I lie next to her and stroke her back as I watch her inhale and exhale gently. I think it was four in the morning when she finally drifted off in my arms, and after that pill, she could easily be knocked out for twelve hours.
When she starts to shift an hour later, I breathe a silent sigh of relief. She moans and rolls over. “How long did I sleep?”
“About eleven hours.” I smile and stroke her cheek. “Those pills are potent.”
She groans again. “I was supposed to have lunch with my dad. He probably thinks I blew him off.”
I kiss her nose. “He knows what happened.”
“You told him?” she asks, sounding panicked.
“Lyric,” I say, my shoulders falling in defeat. She can’t be mad about this. “I’m sorry. Mitch was asking where you were, I figured he should know. He’s your father, and he cares about you.”
She still doesn’t respond, so I continue.
“He wants to do something about it. He said he’ll call her label and threaten to sue if she does anything with the songs. But he wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“I can’t think straight right now. Can you just hold me for a minute?”
“Yeah, babe.” I tighten my hold and watch as she drifts off again.
A half hour later, I’m standing over the stove, when Lyric walks into the kitchen wearing only a sports bra and panties like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I see my future flash before my eyes as I imagine Lyric barefoot and pregnant in our kitchen, cooking while I try to grope her from behind.
I want all of that with her. Three months ago, I couldn’t even see myself having a girlfriend. Everything changed when Lyric came into my life. Music had always been my purpose, but Lyric waltzed in and gave substance to it all. My world became brighter, like anything was possible, and the darkness I’d carried with me since my mother’s death four years ago began to fade away.