Chapter 2
two
Cash
I peeled off my graduation cap and tossed it onto the seat between me and my eight-year-old sister, Addie. Dad’s thumbs tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel of his Mercedes SUV but his jaw was clamped. He hated city traffic, and the parking lot of Lane Stadium was packed.
At least six of the cars belonged to my extended family. Everyone had come to support Griff and me today. Liam had started college with us, but since he got redshirted his freshman year, he wasn’t quite done suiting up for Virginia Tech. He had one more season of being their star running back before he’d head to bigger and better things, like the NFL.
Mom turned in the passenger seat. “You did it, bud. You graduated. How does it feel to be done?”
I let out a weary groan. “So good. I never have to take a class again.”
“Lucky,” Addie humphed, arms folded across her chest.
I poked her in the ribs. “It’ll go by fast. Don’t worry.” Then I dug my finger in, making her squeal.
Dad caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “I hope you’re ready to get to work as soon as we get home. It’s going to be a busy week.”
“I’m beyond ready. For the album and the concert.”
Dad kept his promise. When I came home for Christmas, he surprised me by helping record my first single—“Please Come Home Tonight.” We’d released it in March. He even cleared his whole summer to help me work on my first album, which meant cutting his tour season in half. He was just wrapping up his spring concert series now, and the last show—a week from today—I’d finally get to open for him. Which reminded me…
“Hey.” I scratched the back of my neck. “So. Millie was wondering if we have three more backstage passes. She invited a few more friends.”
“I already gave her five passes,” Dad said.
Mom’s lips pursed. “Millie, who you’re not serious enough with to get her to sign an NDA? But you’re serious enough that she gets a bunch of free passes?”
“Mom,” I groaned. “We’re not that serious.” Asking girls to sign non-disclosure agreements was humiliating. It was like saying: I don’t trust you but I still want to make out with you.
“Have you written any more songs?” Dad asked, thankfully changing the subject.
“No.” I rested my cheek against the window. “The words aren’t coming for some reason.”
“Maybe take it as a sign you’re with the wrong girl,” Mom mumbled. “Millie…freaking snake.”
“I heard that,” I said. “You can’t fault her for taking a lot of selfies. It’s what our generation does.”
Mom’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I absolutely can. You don’t go around taking a thousand selfies a day and neither do your cousins. You were raised better than that. You know what else?” She reached back and patted my knee. “Dad says I inspire all of his best lyrics. He says I’m better than Prozac. All I have to do is scratch his back and the words start to flow.”
Yeah. I knew. I’d had Millie scratch my back once, hoping it would work. The only thing that happened was that one of her nails got snagged on my shirt, causing her to run to Target to get a nail file. She swore she’d never scratch my back again.
Dad grinned at Mom. “I hope you know, every time you hear me on the radio, that’s just me serenading you,” he purred. “Lucky for you, I don’t charge for love songs.” His brows waggled. “But I do accept other forms of payment.”
Mom threw her head back and laughed.
“Eeewww, Daaaaddyyyy,” Addie whined. “I hate the eyebrow thing.”
“No.” I scowled but couldn’t bury my laughter. “Don’t do that while we’re all stuck in the car together. Actually, never do that again.”
Dad winked at Mom. “I make no promises.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out.
Millie
Sorry I had to miss commencement. But look!
A picture popped up on the screen.
Addie leaned over to get a look. “She missed your graduation because she needed to get the Hokie bird painted on her nails?”
“She said commencement is too long and boring. She sat through it in December when her brother graduated. Besides,” I chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re not that serious.” It was true. So why did it bug me so much that she didn’t show up?
Dad snorted. “It was long and boring but we supported you anyway. That’s what you do when you care about someone.”
I said nothing because what do you say to that?
“Your girlfriend missed one of the most important events of your life to get a manicure?” Mom asked.
I clicked my tongue. “Keep frowning like that and you’ll need Botox.”
“ Boy . I already get Botox. I’m a forty-seven-year-old woman playing a movie character in her early thirties. And we still have two movies left to film.”
On top of being a famous country music singer with five Grammys and more People’s Choice Awards than I could count, Dad played Jack Steele, the lead male character in the Spy vs Sigh movie franchise. Mom was his co-star and on-screen love interest, Raven Nightshade.
Mom flipped the visor down, stared at her reflection in the mirror, and scowled. Unsuccessfully.
Dad leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Baby, you still look twenty-five.”
She slipped her fingers into his hair and gazed into his eyes. “Keep it up, 3673.” Her tone was as seductive as Dad’s had been a moment earlier. “And I will make all your dreams come true.”
Mom had called him by his Nashville Launch vote code since I was thirteen. The Nashville Launch had only lasted six seasons but it gave my dad the record deal that “launched” his career. Hence the name.
“Moooom,” Addie complained.
I groaned. “That’s it. I’m moving in with Theo and James.” My oldest cousins had bought a fixer-upper on fifteen acres next to Uncle Silas and Aunt Lemon’s farm. “I cannot live with you two.”
“Last I heard, Theo accidentally cut the power line to their house.” Dad chuckled. “So have fun not taking a shower.”
“Watching TV,” Mom added.
“Surfing the net,” Dad sang.
“Silas says the boy is lucky to be alive,” Mom laughed. “It’s going to cost him $4,000 to fix.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you two need to knock that off.”
A pickup truck cut in front of us and Dad honked the horn. “This is why I live in the country!” He blew out his breath in a long exhale. Then he laid his hand on the console between the seats, palm side up.
Like she had Ford Dupree sonar, without even looking Mom slid her hand against his and twined their fingers together. I doubted Dad realized it but Mom was his grounding device.
Maybe Millie and I could have that someday if we tried really hard. But I doubted it. Millie expected me to be on at all times. Always charming, never too serious. Heaven forbid I ever have a down day.
“Oh, looks like we’re finally out of here.” Dad pressed on the gas and pulled onto the road.
“We forgot to say a prayer,” Mom said. She always made us pray before a long car ride and Seddledowne was two hours away.
“I’ve got it.” Addie wiggled, sitting up tall. Everyone bowed their head but Dad. “Dear God, thank you for this day, and thank you that Cash could graduate and finally move back home. You know I missed him.” Eyes still closed, I smiled. I’d missed her too. “And give us a miracle so Cash doesn’t keep dating Millie. Because we all know dating leads to marriage. I only get one sister-in-law, you know. So I’m putting Millie in the ‘nope’ pile, right next to broccoli and eight o’clock bedtime.”
I peeked an eye open to see Mom biting her lips so she wouldn’t giggle. Dad’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.
I nudged Addie. “What do you have against Millie?”
She humphed, eyes squeezed closed even tighter. “And please help Cash know he shouldn’t talk during someone else’s prayer. Please keep us safe and help Lula have babies.”
“She’s not having babies,” Mom whispered. “She’s been fixed. And she’s old.”
“Ahem,” Addie cleared her throat. “And please help Mom to know she shouldn’t talk during someone else’s prayer. And to know that miracles are real. They happen every day.” Her head bobbed with attitude. “Like Moses parting the Red Sea.”
“You can’t let her watch that Prince of Egypt movie anymore,” Dad whispered.
Addie let out a breathy, dramatic sigh as if to say: Forgive them, Lord, they know not what they do. “Please, help every person in my family to learn to be reverent and respectful and not to make fun of other people’s prayers.” She huffed. “So, in summary—because I’m sure that was confusing with all the interruptions—we need a miracle so Cash breaks up with Millie. Because we think he can do better. Maybe send him a sign. Just a suggestion. Not that You need me telling You how to do Your job or anything.”
“Oh my word. This car is going to burst into flames.” Dad laughed.
“A-men,” Addie finally finished.
We all echoed a hearty amen.
I looked over at my sister. “A sign, huh?”
She lifted her chin. “Yup.”
“What kind of sign?”
“That’s between you and Him.” She tapped her chin. “But you’ll know it when it happens.”
“ When it happens? What if God wants me with Millie?”
“He doesn’t,” she, Dad, and Mom said in unison.
Addie poked me in the ribs. “Don’t worry. You won’t be able to mistake it. It’ll be something big. No. Huge.” She stretched her arms out. “Unmistakable. Maybe even something you think is impossible.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “PS: Please help Charlie to come home divorced so she can marry Cash. Amen.”
My eyes widened with shock.
Mom gasped. “Adelaide Skye Dupree, we do not pray for people’s marriages to end.”
“Maybe you don’t,” Dad said.
I choked on a laugh.
Mom gasped again, mouth gaping open at Dad.
“Who do you think I got it from?” Addie said, straight-faced.
“Ford Sutton Dupree!” Mom poked him in the side but he just shrugged unapologetically.
Then with no warning, Addie rolled her shoulders back and declared, “Charlie’s coming home. For Cash’s first concert. I can feel it.”
I stared at her, slightly miffed. Why was my sister suddenly prophesying crap? I didn’t need her getting my hopes up like that.
“I think Addie should skip Bible school this summer,” I said to my parents.
Mom turned to face our Modern-day Moses. “Hon-ey. Just because you want it to happen doesn't mean it will. No one’s heard from Charlie in a year. That girl could be dead in a ditch somewhere for all we know.”
“Mom!” I snapped.
“She’s not dead in a ditch,” Dad said as if it were a known fact.
Did he know that for sure? Because I didn’t. Every day, the thought crossed my mind: Would today be the day a state trooper knocked on Uncle Ashton and Aunt Tally’s door to deliver the bad news? The thought made me nauseous. Every time. Just like it did right then.
“Dad’s right. Charlie’s alive,” Addie said with a determined nod. “And when she comes home, you’ll all be sad you doubted. And when she does, it’s bye-bye Millie, heeeelloooo Charlie.”
“I’m with Addie. Charlie’s coming home.” Dad reached back for Addie to slap his hand.
Once she low-fived him, she held her hand out to me. “Deal?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Sure,” I said, not the least bit serious. Because again, hope was dangerous. “If Charlie comes home for the concert, I’ll break up with Millie.”
I sealed my promise with a handshake.