JENNIE
"Hey, Brookie—Brooklyn." Whoops. My finger wave was met with a scowl as she closed the front door.
"Where's Mom?" She scanned the living room as she bounced baby Bradley on her hip.
"She had to run to the church with Dad. They're meeting with the caterer for tomorrow."
She blinked. "And she left you with the kids?"
"I'm capable of keeping three kids alive for a couple hours." I glanced at Louis, Evan and Maya playing on the floor, perfectly happy and safe under my watch.
Though I doubted Mom would have left me here with the kids if the baby would have been among today's wards. Brooklyn had Fridays off and didn't need a babysitter today.
"Would you like to sit?" I waved to the free space on the couch beside me. Brooklyn harrumphed but sat.
"How are you?" I asked.
"Fine."
She hadn't been over last night for burgers. Her husband, Pete, had picked up Bradley and gone home for dinner. Since I'd arrived, Pete had given me a dozen pleasant smiles, but we hadn't braved much conversation. He seemed wary, as if Brooklyn would label him a traitor if he spoke to me.
"Pete seems nice."
She narrowed her eyes and set the baby on the carpet at her feet. He cooed and gnawed on a set of red, blue and yellow plastic keys. "Don't, Jennie."
"Don't what?"
"Don't pretend you care."
"I've always cared."
She scoffed. "You sure have a way of showing it."
Brooklyn was the second runner-up to Dad's silent treatment. The day I'd left, she'd basically stopped speaking to me. She'd been fifteen and busy as the popular girl in high school who'd played fall, winter and spring sports.
When I'd text and hardly get a short reply, I'd assumed it was because she was busy. She had her life happening and her older sister wasn't around to pester her about how long she spent in the bathroom doing her hair and makeup.
Brooklyn and I had never been close. As teenage sisters, we hadn't fought much; we just didn't have anything in common. Where I'd tag along after Hanbin and Lisa, Brooklyn was content doing her own thing with her own friends.
As the years passed and I texted with her less and less often, I'd chalked it up to sisters who'd drifted apart. She and Pete had gotten engaged after college. She hadn't asked me to be her maid of honor, something that had bothered me more than I'd admitted.
But I'd planned to be at her wedding. I'd missed Hanbin and Mindy's since they'd eloped.
The day Mom had told me about the engagement, I'd emailed her tour dates, something that had been set in stone for a year. In a twelve-week Montana summer, there were four blacked out weekends when we'd be in Europe.
Brooklyn had picked one of the four.
She'd wanted a June wedding and June had been impossible. Was that why she was so angry at me? Or because I only sent flowers after Bradley was born?
I opened my mouth to ask but closed it before speaking. Maybe this was on me to fix, but I never knew how to talk to Brooklyn.
That hadn't changed.
"How's your band?" She infused the last word with more disdain than even Lisa could conjure.
"They're good." She rolled her eyes. "Why ask if you don't want the answer?"
"I'm being polite," she snapped. "I don't care about you or your band."
Louis's head snapped up from the Legos he and Evan were playing with on the floor.
"Do you guys want to put your shoes on and go play outside?" I offered.
"Yeah!" Evan shot up first.
I winked at Louis as he followed. The kid was bright—he knew there was tension between me and my sister—but he simply went with Evan to put on his shoes. Maya was lost in an app on the pink tablet Hanbin had brought with her this morning, insisting she only get two hours of screen time.
Mom, the wise grandmother, had allotted those two hours to the hours when I would be watching her.
When the sliding door opened and the boys were outside, I angled myself on the couch to face Brooklyn. "Don't be polite. Say what you have to say."
"You didn't just leave Lisa behind when you disappeared to become famous. You left the rest of us too."
Would it matter if I hadn't become famous? Would there be so much resentment toward me if I was a starving musician playing in small bars and surviving from gig to gig?
"I'm not sorry I left, but I am sorry we lost touch." After the fight, after Lisa and I had broken up, after navigating the first few days of college feeling helpless and alone, I'd shut out the world.
I'd put up my guard.
The only person who'd shoved her way through had been Nan. Even if there wasn't anything to discuss, even if our conversation lasted three minutes, she'd never stopped calling.
She hadn't let me walk away from her.
Maybe I needed to take her lead and not let Brooklyn push me away either. "I don't know how to talk to you," I admitted. "I missed a lot of your life. You missed a lot of mine. We're different people than the girls who lived here once. But maybe we could start over and get to know each other now."
"It's too late." She bent and scooped up her son. "You cut us out, Jennie. Don't pretend you aren't going to leave after the funeral and do a repeat performance."
Without another word, she was out the door and marching to her car parked on the street.
I watched her through the window as she loaded Bradley into his car seat and raced away.
A pang of regret hit because she wasn't wrong.
I was leaving Monday and had no intention of returning soon. I wanted to go home—to Seattle. I wanted to get back to work and write this next album. If I called Brooklyn, I doubted she'd answer.
She seemed happy. That's all that mattered, right?
"Where's Evan?" Maya looked up from her tablet, searching the room for her brother.
"He's outside. Want to go play?" I stood and stretched a hand for her.
She nodded and followed me to her backpack. I helped her into a pair of flip-flops with an elastic strap for the heel and we went outside where I pushed my niece in a swing.
Was I making things worse by being here? Was it worth trying harder? Or was it better to leave my family to their lives?
And go back to my own.
--
A day spent playing with kids was more exhausting than any tour schedule Jimin could have dreamed up.
"They'll wear you out, huh?" Hanbin chuckled as I plopped down in a chair at the patio table.
Mom had come home from her trip to the church, and seeing that the kids were happy and thriving, deemed me childcare for the rest of the day so she could help Dad finalize preparation for the funeral.
I'd been glad to help, preferring a day with smiling kids to a day dreading tomorrow. But damn, I was wiped.
"How does Mom do this every day?" I asked.
"Hell if I know." He sat beside me and watched his kids in the yard. Louis was spending the night with Lisa's parents and they'd already stopped over to collect him.
"You're good with them."
"Don't sound so surprised," I muttered.
He grinned. "Heard you talked to Brooklyn today."
"She tattled on me already? For the record, I was trying to be nice. But she hates me and that's not going to change."
"She doesn't hate you. But you know how she is about Dad."
"Yeah."
Brooklyn was Dad's girl. She adored him and when it came time to picking sides, she was always on his.
"Dad was pissed when you left," Hanbin said. "Brooklyn never understood that he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself."
"Oh, I think he was mad at me too."
"At first. That fight was bad and you basically told him to shove it when you disappeared. I mean, Christ, Jennie, you had Lisa take you to the airport. You didn't leave a note or say goodbye. They didn't even know where you'd gone."
I cringed. "I'll admit, that was bad."
"Yeah. But Dad got over it. He's spent a lot of years regretting how it turned out."
"This is news to me."
"He doesn't know what to do with you. Dad is so good with people, but you, he never figured you out."
"So rather than try, he disowned me instead."
You are not my daughter.
That was one of his statements I'd never forgotten.
I'd held those words tight every time I'd written a song for a year. Every ounce of pain from that sentence had been poured into my music.
"He's changed," Hanbin said gently.
"So everyone says." But had Dad called? Had he apologized? No. At this point, I didn't even want an apology. I just wanted to be accepted for who I was. "It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe it's been so many years, it's better to forget and move on."
"Well, when you move on"—Hanbin stood from his chair—"don't forget there are some of us who will always be here for you."
I looked up at my brother. "I'm sorry I didn't call you more often."
"And I'm sorry I never came to one of your shows. Two-way street, Jennie. This is not all on you."
"Thanks."
"What are you doing tonight?" he asked. "If you want to get out of the house, there's a band playing at the Eagles downtown you'll probably like."
"I don't know." A night away from the house, away from the awkward silence that always came when only Mom, Dad and I were home, sounded wonderful. "With Nan's funeral tomorrow, I don't know if I should push it."
"Tell them you're coming over to hang at my place."
"Are you encouraging me to lie to our parents?"
He gave me a sly grin. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Hanbin had always been the one to cover for Lisa and me. On the nights when we needed to spend more time together, on the weekends when we'd go camping in the mountains, Hanbin would always claim to have been there too. He'd been the third wheel who'd disappear to spend a night with whatever girl he was dating.
"I think I'll do that." I could use a couple of hours out of this house, doing something I loved and getting my mind off what was to come tomorrow.
"Can't wait to hear what you think of the band. They're my favorite."
"Your favorite? Excuse me?"
"Besides Hush Melodies."
I smiled. "That's better."
He smiled back and I knew, right there in my parents' kitchen, I wasn't going to lose my brother again. I'd do better to stay in his life. To know his children and his wife.
I'd do better.
--
Hanbin was a goddamn liar. That rat bastard.
Of course, this band was his favorite. Lisa was the lead singer.
I closed my gaping mouth and blinked from the dark corner table I'd claimed earlier tonight.
After dinner with my parents, I'd made some excuses about wanting to explore Bozeman a bit and that I might be out late. I'd decided not to leverage Hanbin's fake invitation and go for vague instead.
An Uber brought me downtown, then I snuck into the Eagles with a hood pulled over my head. So far, no one had recognized me and I doubted they would. None of the bar's patrons had paid me a bit of attention, except my waitress who'd just delivered my third vodka tonic.
The dance floor was empty, but I suspected that wouldn't last long. The noise level in the bar had slowly crept up as groups of college-aged kids trickled through the door. When I'd arrived, there'd been plenty of empty tables, and now, nearly all were full. A line of older men and a few women sat at the bar itself, laughing with their bartenders and people-watching the younger generation. The energy in the room was growing with the promise of a fun night. A table of guys doing shots let out a whooping holler when the band had stepped on stage.
Hanbin was as bad as Eileen with this stunt. Thankfully, Lisa hadn't spotted me yet.
She'd come in twenty minutes later than the other band members and the stage was mostly set up. She shook everyone's hands and gave one guy a back- slapping hug. Then she took out her guitar, stowing the case against the far wall, and maneuvered to the center microphone.
"Hey, guys," she said into the mic. "How are we doing tonight?"
The crowd cheered and a couple guys in cowboy hats whistled. A pretty brunette standing with them blushed as Lisa's gaze swung their way.
My lip curled.
She was practically a child. Had the bouncers not checked her I.D.?
Lisa strummed a chord on her low-slung guitar and grinned at the lanky guy to her right holding a bass. The keyboard was set up on Lisa's left. The drummer sat behind a decent Yamaha kit.
I lifted my glass to take a sip, but then Lisa played a guitar riff that made every muscle in my body freeze. "Life is a Highway."
One of my favorite songs. One she'd play for us in her Chevy truck when we were driving around, windows down and music blaring.
The room erupted.
A crush of people swarmed the dance floor. The table beside mine emptied except for one lady who stayed and sang along.
The entire bar was fixed on Lisa. She'd always been an amazing singer, but when had she gotten so good on the guitar? She had them eating out of her hand.
My throat went dry and I gulped my drink, draining it to empty save for the ice and lemon slice.
Lisa's voice filled the room and she flashed that sexy, charming smile as she scanned the crowd.
I hovered deeper into my hoodie, hoping she wouldn't see me. Hoping I could just sit here and watch because . . . holy fuck she was hot.
My tongue darted out to my bottom lip, searching for her taste from yesterday's kiss. Her voice washed over me and my foot bounced on the floor. There was no stopping my body as it responded, completely at her mercy. A rush of wetness pooled between my legs.
That smile.
My God, no wonder that little girl was blushing over her. Lisa was the complete rocker package—confident, talented and gorgeous. Was this how women felt about Kai and Bambam? Because I was coming out of my skin as her fingers flew over the frets on her guitar and a lock of hair draped on her forehead. She was wearing a simple black T-shirt, the sleeves stretching over those corded and tanned arms. Her jeans were simple and faded but they fit over her bulky thighs, straining as she moved with the music.
My heart was in my throat as she stepped to the mic, crooning through the song's hook, then stepping away to hit a lick on the guitar that was pure rock- and-roll brilliance.
Someone cheered. Loud. Me. I cheered.
Shit.
Lisa smiled again, her eyes flickering toward the source of the noise. She spotted me. She'd snared me and held me captive, not missing a note, a lyric or a beat. As she sang the final chorus, the crowd disappeared between us.
She sang to me and I forgot how to breathe.
By the time the song ended, my panties were drenched. I was seconds away from walking up on that stage and taking a kiss that would put yesterday's to shame.
I was in deep, deep trouble sitting here.
The song ended and the crowd roared as Lisa led them right into Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama." Except she swapped out Alabama for Montana.
Tears flooded my eyes and I focused on my empty glass. She was so good. So, so good.
It hurt to hear. It hurt to feel her gaze on my face. It ripped my heart out to know she wasn't mine.
We'd survived burgers last night. Hearing everything that had happened with Louis's mom hadn't been easy. But Lisa was strong. Stronger than any person I'd ever met.
She was a force. A magnet.
Maybe that was why I'd known a long-distance relationship with her would never have worked. Her pull was too strong. Eventually, I would have yielded and come home.
I would have stayed forever, forfeiting my dreams to sit at tables like this one, being Lisa's cheerleader and number one fan.
The temptation was overpowering. When had I not loved her?
I shot out of my chair and ducked my head, sidestepping past people and maneuvering through the crowd. If I sat here and listened for another minute, I'd stay.
I couldn't stay.
My shoulders bumped into people as I squeezed my way through the mass toward the front door. With every step, Lisa's voice faded and my heart ached.
If I stayed, if I let myself remember how it was to love her, I'd break. I'd worked so hard to bury these feelings. I'd worked so hard, period. I had a life to get back to. A band. The door loomed and my feet pushed faster, my boots thudding as I jogged past the bouncer and burst outside.
The air, crisp and fresh, filled my lungs and I let a sob escape.
There were reasons, so many reasons, that Lisa and I would never work, and it was easier to remember them without her voice ringing in my ears.
I spun away from the bar and began walking down the sidewalk, the urge to cry lessening with every step. Five steps. Ten. The end of the block was getting close, the pull toward Lisa weakening with every stride.
I could breathe again. I could think. Until her voice called my name. "Jennie."
My feet stopped, but I didn't turn. I faced forward, staring at the street ahead, until a broad chest covered in a black T-shirt filled my vision.
She'd chased me.
She'd chased me when I really needed her to let me go.
Lisa tucked a finger under my chin and tipped it up, forcing my eyes to her. "Why are you always running away from me?"
I couldn't answer her. She'd push and push until I did, but it was the one thing I wouldn't admit. Because if I admitted that I'd been in love with her since I was fourteen, it would destroy us both.
So I didn't let her push.
I shut her up by standing on my toes and pressing my mouth to her.