Chapter 12
“ I heard my dad tell my mom they’ll have enough material for an album in a few more days,” Peace says. Facing me, she’s sitting cross-legged on her bed and wearing her ruffly pink pajamas with the candy-cane print. I’m in my flannel pajama bottoms and a Martin guitar T-shirt. It’s late, near midnight, but I couldn’t sleep without seeing her one more time.
“My dad said the same thing,” I confide and frown. Dad said a lot of other things when he was laying into me, but I don’t share those.
“So that means you’re leaving soon.” Peace brings the end of one of her pigtails to her mouth and brushes it back and forth over her lips while peering at me through her lashes. “I’ll miss you.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you too.” My shoulders sag. “But we can talk on the phone whenever you want. We can even talk every day. If you want to.”
Peace releases the pigtail. “My dad might not like us talking.”
I cock my head. “Why would he care?”
“He probably thinks you’ll get me in trouble, but I think it’s more that he’s afraid.”
“Of what?” I shake my head in disbelief. It’s my dad who has a shit-ton of fears, mainly that I’ll be a piece of shit when I grow up. “War isn’t afraid of anything.”
“You’re wrong.” Peace’s expression turns reflective. “He’s tough on the outside. He had to be tough to survive in Southside, but he’s caring underneath. I’ll bet yours is too.”
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m not convinced. Peace doesn’t know the things Dad says to me.
“My dad didn’t have anyone taking care of him growing up. He had to look after himself.” Her brow creases. “I think he still believes he has to.”
“Why? He has his bandmates.”
She nods. “But no family beyond us.”
“My grandma loves him.” I heard her say that War is like a son to her.
“I’m not sure he believes that.” Peace tilts her head. “Like the kids in the boxcar story, he thinks he’s alone and only has himself to rely on. And he has my mom, me, and my sister to look after too.”
I give that some thought.
“Now that he has a family of his own,” she continues, “I think he worries about losing us. He checks on my mom every day when she’s away on location, and he peeks in on Harmony and me every night before he can sleep.” She glances over my head and pulls in a sudden breath. “Dad.”
Swiveling around, I see War standing in the doorway. He looks pissed as hell. I scramble off the bed. “Mr. Jinkins.” I jerk up my chin as he comes into the room.
“Bo.” He narrows his gaze. Stopping in front of me, he blocks my retreat. “Do you have permission to be in my daughter’s room?”
“No, sir.” I shake my head. “But?—”
“Get out,” he barks. “Now.”
“Okay.” I don’t jump like he expects me to, but I get why he doesn’t want me inside his daughter’s room…on her bed. Peace might still be innocent, but I’m not, not entirely. I glance past him to look at her. “Good night, PJ.”
“Night, Bo,” she says.
I head toward the door but stop halfway. Turning around, I aim my gaze at War. “Don’t be mad at Peace.” I can’t do a lot to deflect her father’s anger, but I’ll do whatever I can. “It was my idea for us to talk here in her room, not hers.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but his gaze softens a little. “Go,” he orders sternly and points.
“All right.” I start moving again but stop in the doorway and glance at Peace. Our gazes lock. There’s distance between us, and there’ll be more soon, but for now our connection is solid.
“Move it, Bo.” War nudges me out of the room and firmly closes the door. He can separate us for now, but he can’t do it forever.