Risky Replay (Country Stars Forever #1)

Chapter 9

Nine

DEREK

Are you a soldier like my dad?

The question slayed me. I’m your father, James.

I answer more questions until he hits me with, “Do you sing like my mom?”

Which spikes my curiosity. “How often does your mom sing?”

I glance over to where Emily approaches in the distance.

He hops off the bench and stands in front of me. My insides balloon with joy at how easily he’s befriended me. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Okay, if I answer, will you answer mine?” I ask.

He looks up at the sky like he’s thinking, or he’s exasperated with my request. I survey his expressions, something the pictures didn’t quite capture. He’s an Anderson alright, but the smile is Emily’s.

“Okay, but I get an extra question,” he negotiates.

Smart kid.

“Deal. Yes, I sing like your mom does. That’s how we met at church choir, and your nana taught us both how to sing.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Nana sings while she’s cooking. And while she’s doing laundry. ”

Sounds about right. Does Emily do it, too? “When does your mom sing?”

James pokes my stomach, and when I pretend like he jabbed me too hard, he laughs. “It’s my turn to ask questions. Wait your turn.”

I change my mind. He may look like me, but he’s all Emily. Bossy.

“When do you sing?” he asks.

I hold in a smile. “That’s not a yes or no question.”

He places his hands on my knees and jumps up, never losing the connection to me, and radiates unbridled joy as he uses me as playground equipment.

I might burst from the swell of bliss coursing through me.

The first time Emily kissed me, I thought I’d peaked in life, and in love. The first time we played to a sold-out crowd, I’d never experienced a better high than twenty thousand people roaring as we walked onto the stage. Other moments… signing our record deal, watching my sister walk across a stage and graduate with her doctorate, and the release of our first album… they all pale in comparison to this moment and James’ sparkle. As he leaves his hand on my knee and asks more than twenty questions, nothing will outshine this memory.

Our best hits are about relationships—falling hard, being left behind, or letting go of someone who is bad news. We’ve recorded songs about ride or die friends, bonfires and drinking, and driving trucks. But we’ve never written anything that describes the love bursting into all my cells breathing a fresh sense of purpose at standing in this little guy’s light. Tonight, I’ll weave the words floating in my head with the high of the day’s emotions into song.

“Are you having fun with my friend?” Emily asks James when she returns.

James nods several times. “He wants to know if you sing.”

Emily crosses her arms and leans her hip to the side. “He knows I sing. ”

She suggests we grab some burgers since the line is shorter. We do, and James asks more questions while we eat.

When we’re done, I can barely contain my excitement, knowing what a big deal this will be for Emily. “We’ll be opening for Bailey Southern at the Fourth of July festival in downtown Nashville.”

Emily’s eyes bulge. Bailey Southern has been one of her favorites ever since Bailey won a televised singing competition when we were in our teens, and she’s the female half of Jaxson Bailey.

“You know her?” she asks as if she had a hard time stringing three words together.

I shake my head. “Not yet. We’ll meet her at the show. She wants to record a song with us.”

Her pretty sandaled foot traces a small arc across the dirt.

Two boys come over and one says, “Hey, James. Want to catch with us?” ending any further conversation about Bailey.

James looks at Emily. She bites her bottom lip.

One kid tucks his glove under his armpit as he waits for an answer, and the other says, “My mom said it was okay.”

Emily looks over into the distance.

I stand next to her. “We’re right here. Nothing will happen.”

Emily swallows. “Okay.”

James grabs his glove, says a ‘thanks mom,’ and takes off after the other two kids. Emily follows them with her eyes, her shoulders dropping.

“First time that happens,” she says.

“Gets invited to play with the others?”

“Is he really so different? Is this world still so black and white?” There’s sorrow in her voice, like she’s exhausted.

I set my hands on her shoulders, letting the familiar jolt of desire coursing through me dissipate, and I turn her to face me. When she looks up, I say, “You’re letting him know it’s okay to live in the gray zone. ”

She blinks as if the sun were too bright, but my head shields her face.

Since finding out about James, I’ve scoured and devoured articles about anything from parenting to raising a nonbinary child online. I replayed Emily’s message at the diner in my head. There’s nothing James could wear or do to make me not love him.

“It’s a long road ahead. Whatever James decides, he’ll have my support.” I exhale. “Does he, uh, like being a boy?”

Emily blinks like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Do you know how difficult it is to bring up the conversation with a six-year-old? Am I influencing him? Am I not talking about it enough? I’ve asked. He says he likes his name and doing all the things.” She waves her hand in the air as if to capture ‘all the things.’ She moves so she can have a clear view of where the boys play catch. “I think he has a crush on Maddox.”

“Maddox?” I don’t know who Maddox is and I check all the little girls who may be his age. “He’s only six.”

She chuckles. “And how young were you when you had your first crush?”

My cheeks heat. “I was ten. The tan-skinned girl in church choir.” It’s a direct reminder and the truth.

Emily doesn’t look at me. Her vision narrows to the field. James chases an overthrown ball, trying to beat the boy running next to him.

“Maddox,” Emily sighs. “The one with the longer reddish wavy hair.”

“He’s only six,” I repeat. Is this so-called crush an admiration or a glimpse into the future? “Doesn’t matter.”

The words sound contrite, placating, and I cringe inside. It fucking matters. It will define his life starting now. According to the articles, it will be a few years before he figures this part out about himself. As Emily watches James, I’m reminded that mothers know. I can’t dismiss her intuition.

We stand next to each other, facing the field in silence. A few other boys join the catch game. It’s friendly until James drops a few in a row. The other boys’ voices grow louder, and James’ body becomes rigid. He drops the next ball like he didn’t see it coming.

“I’m going to get him,” Emily says and points her body towards the boys.

I place my hand on her forearm before she goes too far. “Let him figure this out.”

I keep my eyes on the boys but feel Emily’s stare drill a hole through my skull. She’s probably thinking I’ve overstepped. That it’s too early for me to contribute to James’ life in this way. I have every right to add to the conversation, and I have a hell of a lot of missed time to make up for.

James says something, and Maddox laughs.

James drops the ball, again, and the boys yell out their frustration. Maddox tosses his arm over James’ shoulders in a friendly gesture. Next to me, Emily sighs with her whole body. A boy shoves Maddox from behind and calls him a derogatory name. Mutual shoving ensues. Parents rush into the cloud of dust created by the tangled-up boys. I reach them first and pull James and Maddox away as other parents do the same for their kids.

A burly, older man bellows about a code of conduct. Maddox and James say nothing as the kid who started it whines but responds with a ‘yes, coach.’ After he finishes admonishing his team, he sends all the kids for a lap around the park without caring who’s to blame. James looks for Emily, and she waves for him to join the others.

James says nothing and trails after the rest of the group and gains on them with his longer legs. Maddox stays towards the back of the group.

Emily raises a brow at me. “Let it play out?”

I fucking failed her test. “He has a new friend. Maddox.”

She huffs and returns to our abandoned table while the murmur of parents quiets down. Will she ever let me in? I run my hand through my hair, realizing I must have dropped my cap in the scuffle. I find it in the middle of the field and shake off the dust before I smash it onto my head when I hear a woman say, “I knew I recognized you.” She steps closer. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

She looks somewhat familiar. I look over to Maddox shuffling dirt as he runs. “Maddox’s mother?”

She beams. “Yes. Didn’t know James’ father was, well, around.” Her mouth twists a little when she speaks my son’s name. “But now I know why. You’ve been on the road. Didn’t know you had a little one.”

Me either, until last Friday. I lean a little closer hoping my lie will work. “Not something I advertise. Emily and I like to keep him out of the spotlight.”

“Of course. I understand,” she answers, a little too eager. She touches my arm and squeezes. Her eyes widen with delight. “Maddox’s birthday is on the third. I was going to give Emily the invitation, but silly me,” she puts her hand over her forehead like a damsel about to faint, “I forgot it at home. I can text you the details if you give me your number.”

Maddox’s mother is smooth, and I’m not dumb. “Why don’t you give me the details and I’ll take notes on my phone?”

She purses her lips. “Alright.” She shares the address, her phone number, the time the party starts, and tells me it’s a zoo theme. What does that mean? She describes a petting zoo, a bounce house, and kids dressing up as animals.

If James struggles with making friends, this party will be great for him. Maybe Emily will be more open to staying if he’s having fun. I thank Maddox’s mother for the invitation and for her discretion.

She bobs her head while repeating, “Absolutely.”

Before I walk back to Emily, I type a message to Aiden. We need to get ahead of this before more folks find out. Today was my first day with James, and it won’t be the last. When I reach the table where Emily is supposed to be, I don’t see her, and I scan the space. She’s at another table, standing too close to a pinched-face couple. She has her arms crossed and her chin raised high. As I approach, I don’t catch all the words, but I hear their clipped tone.

“…respect isn’t difficult to teach or model—” She stops mid-sentence when she senses me next to her.

Fuck.

I stand next to her, tempted to place my hand on her back for support, but she may consider it an attempt to pacify her.

The man glares at me. “How we discipline our son is our business. How you decide to raise yours is yours.” There’s a snicker in the last part, and it’s like an Emily-sized bomb goes off in my head. I’m ready to roar like a papa bear.

“The difference is we don’t teach violence or slurs.” I sound controlled when it’s the last thing I feel. “We’ll consult the coach on appropriate action since it’s an obvious violation of league rules.”

The father’s face burns red. He should discipline his child. This world would function better if more parents had zero tolerance for insults and homophobic slurs.

I place my hand on Emily’s back and quietly guide her back to the table. A moment later, a sweat-soaked James with strands poking out of his braids plops on the bench.

“Can we go home now?” His shoulders hunch, and I’m worried he’s on the verge of tears.

Emily tells him to put his mitt in his bag and throw out his trash. He does so without complaining. I walk them to Emily’s rusted excuse for a car. When James is buckled in, I stop her before she gets into the driver’s seat.

“James is invited to Maddox’s birthday party. It’s the day before fourth of July. I…” I run a hand around the back of my neck. “…I wanted to invite you to the show in Nashville, see if you wanted to meet Bailey.”

Emily’s eyes go wide, and she reminds me of the little star-struck girl singing along to Bailey’s hits. It disappears as fast as it appeared. “Maddox’s mother handed out invitations to the party two weeks ago. James didn’t get one. She was adamant there wasn’t enough room, and she had to prioritize his classmates. We won’t be here next year, but it still stung.”

Emily goes to unlatch the door. I put my hand over hers, stopping her.

“He’s invited now. He should go. Maddox seems to like him.”

“Maddox isn’t the problem. It’s his mother who doesn’t like James. As if he would rub off on her son.”

The way Maddox interacts with James is kids being kids. I keep quiet, letting Emily process her warranted frustration.

“James was hoping to go,” Emily says in a low voice. “I don’t like that she invited him after seeing you, but James will be happy. Thank you.”

My chest puffs up. And I say what I’ve been wanting to since I showed up. “I need more time. Please stay.”

She turns around and looks over my shoulder at the field. “Give me an hour and come by. I’ll text you the address.”

“That’s not enough. I need this summer. I need every day I can until I return to Nashville.”

“I can’t.” Her voice breaks before she opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. I watch her drive James away while a sense of helplessness takes over my limbs.