Chapter 13
“Can I come with you?” Grace asks when I get out of the car. I have one week until my surgery, which she and Tucker still don’t know about. But today isn’t about me, today is about Tucker.
“You should be asking Tucker that question,” I say, wondering why she was waiting for me outside.
“He’s been avoiding me all morning.” She sticks out her tongue like she does when she gets annoyed.
“Maybe he doesn’t want you to come?” I ask. I’m not trying to be rude, but today is a big deal for him. He gets to officially meet Peyton Matthews and play a few songs for her before he can open for her in the fall on her stadium tour.
“But you want me to come, right?” She asks me, and for the first time, I feel conflicted.
Grace has always been one of my best friends, and she has always come first for me, no ifs ands or buts, and I don’t want to become the girl who puts her boyfriend above her best friend.
But this, having her tag along today, really isn’t up to me.
“You need to ask him,” I say again, heading toward the front door. I trip over the small dip in her front walk, like I almost always do, but catch myself before I fall completely on my face.
“For a ballerina, you’re pretty clumsy.” I look up at the sound of Tucker’s voice. It’s been an ongoing joke since well, forever, that even though I’m graceful on the dance floor, I’m pretty much a walking disaster anywhere else.
“That’s true,” I say with a smile and give him a big hug. “You ready for today?”
He nods, looking over my head toward Grace. “You can come,” he says and she claps. “But you have to promise to be quiet when we’re at the studio, both of you.”
I nod; I already knew this part. Murphy said I could come as long as I wasn’t in the way or loud.
We climb into his truck, and it’s got a bench seat which means I get to sit right next to him the whole ride up to LA.
I pick the music—the playlist of songs that Tucker said reminded him of us—and we settle in for the mostly quiet ride.
I can tell that he’s nervous by the way he grips the steering wheel and how he doesn’t try to keep the conversation going when it fades out like he usually does.
He keeps one of his hands in mine, though, for the entire ride.
When we pull into the parking lot, Grace hops out of the car, but I tug on Tucker’s hand before he gets out.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I promise him, even though I have no idea how these things work or if it actually will be fine.
“I know,” he replies, but his jaw is tight, like he doesn’t quite believe me. I can’t tell if he’s just nervous or if something else is happening in his head.
Murphy welcomes us into the studio and puts Grace and I in a room with a window facing another part of the studio and tells us to be quiet. We can hear everything that’s happening in the other room.
“This is so exciting,” she whispers, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’ve still only seen and heard him sing a handful of times, so that’s not why I’m nervous. Some of his nervous energy must be getting to me and I’m on edge, waiting for disaster to strike.
It doesn’t though. Tucker warms up before Peyton gets there, and when she walks in the room, everyone seems to light up. From what I can tell, she’s friendly and excited to hear him in person.
“I saw a video of you a few weeks ago, and I told my manager, ‘He’s the one.’” When she tells him this, he grins and just shakes his head, embarrassed.
Then he plays for her—two covers, and one original. The original isn’t about me, but it’s good.
When he’s finished singing, Grace and I are invited in to meet Peyton.
My best friend seems a little awestruck, even though I didn’t know before today that she even liked country music.
Maybe it’s just because she’s never really been in the same room as a famous person?
I haven’t either, unless you count famous ballerinas—most of the world doesn’t.
I know Peyton is talented, but she’s also just a person.
“I’m really looking forward to having you on tour with me,” Peyton tells Tucker as he’s packing up his guitar.
“I’m really excited,” he says, full of enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” she says. “When your dad first suggested it, I wasn’t sure what to think.
I’d never even heard of you, ya know?” Peyton doesn’t seem to notice how Tucker freezes at the mention of his dad.
“But then I looked you up and just knew that I had to have you on tour with me. It’s gonna be big, for both of us.
I won’t be surprised if you have a record deal before the tour even starts. ”
“Right,” he says in a stiff voice, but Peyton doesn’t notice.
“Anyway, great to meet you! Can’t wait till rehearsals start,” she says in a way that makes me feel like she’s our age, instead of the same age as our parents.
“Yup,” is all Tucker seems to be able to manage. “See you at rehearsals.” Then Peyton leaves the room and he sinks down onto one of the plush red couches, burying his face in his hands.
“Okay, that went well,” Murphy starts, still looking at her phone—the woman rarely glances up at him—so I’m surprised when she does now. She can tell right away that something is off with Tucker. “What is it?”
He doesn’t reply. I sit beside him and rub his back in a way I hope is comforting. Grace is frozen in the corner.
“What’s going on?” Murphy asks again.
“His dad,” I say at the same time he puts his head in his hands and says, “My dad.”
Murphy looks at us expectantly.
“He’s the whole reason I got this gig,” he mutters, his voice muffled because he hasn’t pulled his head out of his hands.
“Right,” Murphy says tentatively.
“Wait,” I say, staring at her. “You knew the whole time?”
Tucker’s head snaps up at this.
Murphy gives a little shrug. “Of course I knew, and of course he’s the reason you got this gig. Peyton Matthews is a big name. Touring with her doesn’t just happen because she came across your video.”
“I don’t need his help,” he spits.
“Doesn’t matter.” Murphy shrugs again. “You got it and now you’re going on tour.”
“No,” he says. “Ugh.” He stands and throws his fist up in the air, like he’s trying to punch something but only comes up with air. “There has to be another way, a different tour.”
Murphy shakes her head, then smiles. “There’s not, but your dad wasn’t here today. I’ve had interactions with Peyton before, and she’s not all that friendly. She genuinely likes you. You should be grateful.”
“I am,” he says, rubbing his hands behind his neck. “I’m just pissed, too. I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want his help.”
Murphy looks at him as if she doesn’t believe him .
“I just want to prove that I can do this without having his push or pull. Almost no one knows he’s my dad.”
“He’s a big name, Tucker. Sometimes getting your foot in the door is all about who you know. You should be glad he put your name out there.”
“He’s not getting a thank you card,” he mutters. Then he shakes his head. “I’m beat, let’s get out of here.”
Grace finally moves from the corner, grabbing her bag and walking out without a word.
“Why is she acting so weird?” I ask Tucker as we follow her out into the bright sun.
“No idea,” he says. “But if I had to guess, it’d be that she hates my dad almost as much as I do.”
“Why?” Even though he told me about his dad and what happened, Grace has never mentioned it. We’ve never talked about it together, and until this moment, I didn’t know she had any feelings on the topic.
“He’s not really a person people like, you know that much. And she’s fiercely loyal, so if someone hurts the people she loves, she doesn’t play nice after that.”
I nod, knowing this is true. I know this about my best friend, but I’ve been trying not to think about all the good things Grace is lately, because it’ll break her when she finds out I have a tumor and didn’t tell her.
But it will be gone in a week, and everything will be fine. I nod in agreement with my own silent thought. This will all be over soon.
“I should have known he had something to do with this.” He hits the side of his truck. “I mean, I should have guessed why this was happening, why it seemed too good to be true that Peyton Matthews wants me to open for her.”
“You’re good, anyone can see that,” I try.
He just shakes his head. “He’ll just hold this over me forever, that he was good enough to make it on his own when he was seventeen, but that I needed his help to get going at eighteen.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “And you know it. You moved out here about to close on a record deal. It didn’t work out, and that’s okay. You got here because of who you are, not because of anything he did.”
“I mean, he’s sort of the reason you’re here,” Grace says and we both look at her.
“I mean, on Earth, not at the studio. He’s your dad.
But he wasn’t around, he’s always been a jerk to pretty much every single person.
So yeah, maybe he’s the biggest jerk on the planet, but he still put your name out there. ”
He smiles slightly at this.
“He’s such a jerk,” he says. “And he’s still not getting a thank you card, but I am opening for Peyton Matthews.
” His mood shifts so suddenly, I’m not sure how or what changed.
One second he was mad that his dad played a role in this, but now he’s back to being in awe about this twist of fate.
He’s finally going on tour. Opening for one of the biggest country singers. It is a big deal.
“Yeah, you are!” I reach over and squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.
“You’ll come to the first show, before you leave for Paris?” he asks tentatively.
I can’t help but grin. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He presses a kiss against my forehead before letting me go.
The whole way home, the words are on the tip of my tongue. My cancer is back. I have a tumor, but I’m going to be okay. I just didn’t want you to worry. But I don’t say any of it. Guilt is gnawing at me as we pull up to my house.
“See you at school on Monday,” I say, and the words feel all wrong, but I push them out.
I will not tell anyone else about the tumor. I am going to be fine. Keeping a secret isn’t that big of a deal.
Even though it feels like it is.