Broken Chords (Ryder Brothers #1)

Chapter 1

1

“You have spent the last four years thinking about your future post-graduation, but I implore you to be open to opportunities you may have never conceived of. If I stuck to my original plan, who knows where I would be? I certainly wouldn’t have auditioned for some singing contest show no one had ever heard of. If I leave you with one thing today, it is this: spare enough room in your plans for dreaming,” Cami Graham implores to me and my fellow graduates.

That shouldn’t be too hard for me, considering I don’t even have a pla, let alone a plan. I don’t have any dreams, either, which may cause a problem. But who had time for dreaming and planning when you were getting your bachelor’s and master’s in only five years. Any time not spent studying was used on extracurriculars, sleeping, and, you know, having a social life.

They—whoever ‘they’ is—say these are the best years of our lives. And I made the most of them while still being the high achieving oldest daughter everyone expected me to be. That isn’t to say I didn’t run through the fountain naked after too many peach schnapps shooters sophomore year, but I managed to balance my need for scholarly validation and my FOMO.

As I sit here, half listening to the commencement address from the reality-TV-star-turned-talk-show-host I should be fangirling over, I am struck by an overwhelming sense of dread. It is finally dawning on me that I have to enter the ‘real world.’ Dun dun dunnnnnn.

The thought makes me shiver in my gown despite the stifling air in this overstuffed auditorium. I prolonged graduation as much as I could without taking a fifth undergrad year, choosing to tack on a master's degree. The idea of needing an extra year to graduate and not being the overachiever my family expected gave me hives.

I don’t want to seem cliché, but my parents are a huge reason I worked hard. Partially because I didn’t want to disappoint them, but mainly, I didn’t want to become them. Not being a cheater with a superiority complex like my dad should be easy, but avoiding Mom’s flaws is more nuanced.

As much as I love Clara O’Leary Compton, a role model, she is not. I don’t blame her for the mess she was after Dad left. But I never wanted to be in her position: a stay-at-home mom with no job history or skills forced to rely on alimony until she remarried. I could have lived without constant complaints about Dad’s financial security. He may be an ass, but he is a workaholic ass who worked for that money.

I will never need a man to support me. That is another reason I put so much effort into school. No matter what happens to my relationships, I will always be able to support myself thanks to my education.

Not that I have been in many relationships, unless you count the few boys I went out with in high school or the three months I dated Tyler Geiger freshman year of college. I was too busy and too cynical for a long-term relationship. No man could ever live up to the fantasy. That’s what happens when you grow up watching a dysfunctional marriage and perfect boys next door. I’ll stick to fictional men, thanks.

As much as my education gives me a leg up, I won’t be able to support myself at all, if I don’t decide what I want to do with my degrees. I’ve been anxious about what comes next since the time my junior year internship adviser asked me what I wanted to do with my life. The question stressed me out so much I promptly applied for the dual master’s program that gave me an extra year to stay in school.

Now my time has run out and I need to pick a direction. I know I want to work in fashion, but I don’t know in what lane. I have always loved clothes and helping people gain confidence from their outfits. I thought I would enjoy being a stylist, but I hated my internship working as one. I spent more time catering to clients’ emotions than I did picking out clothes.

I enjoy the business side of fashion as much as the styling. Analyzing trends, understanding markets, and audience demographics has always come naturally to me. I think I would make a good buyer, but those jobs are hard to find, especially in Nashville. I’d have better luck in New York or LA.

“Hey,” the girl beside me whispers as she elbows me. “Our row is next.”

Whoops. In my revelry, half my class got their diplomas. At least I didn’t miss seeing my best friend, Lainey. I don’t want to miss her walk across the stage. Shoutout to the alphabet gods that her last name isn’t Jones or something earlier.

Shooting my seatmate an apologetic grin, I make my way onto the stairs. Sensing eyes on me, I chance a glimpse away from the steps and catch my bestie waving at me frantically. An involuntary smile spreads across my lip. I love that girl. Lainey Ryder is the definition of a ride-or-die. We’ve been attached at the hip since we met over a decade ago after she and her family moved next door. Together we have faced it all: our first periods, geometry, crushes, and almost getting caught by campus police during the previously peach schnapps-fountain incident.

Lainey is the chaos to my order. The Phoebe to my Monica. The “we’ll figure it out as we go” to my minute-by-minute itinerary. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we work. She has always been my number one supporter, and I’ve been hers.

Once the ceremony wraps up, she practically tackles me in the lobby of the performing arts center.

“We did it!” she shouts, startling an elderly man beside us. I offer him a contrite grimace before pulling her closer to the wall and away from the mass of grads and families searching for one another.

“We did it, babe.” I echo. “I’m proud of you.”

“We both know without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You did the work. I simply helped you stay on track and motivated.”

Lainey is beaming and I understand why. A lot of people didn’t think she would make it here. She tends to be indecisive, as demonstrated by her three major changes. I knew when she found her passion, she’d kick it into gear. And I was right. Once she settled on fashion design, she threw herself into her coursework. After a victory lap, she’s leaving here with her degree.

Unlike Lainey, I knew what I wanted to study from day one. Thanks to that conversation junior year, I’m walking out with an MBA alongside my fashion merchandising bachelor’s. As much as I wanted to follow my passion, I also wanted something that gave me flexibility for my future. Plus, the MBA stopped my dad from constantly harping my ear about getting a ‘respectable’ degree.

Not that I have any idea what I want to do. But I’m not thinking about that today. Today I am celebrating my accomplishment. What I should do next is future Ellie’s problem, and she is not here. Today Ellie is ready to let her hair down and celebrate.

“Are your parents here?” Lainey asks.

“They’re around here somewhere.”

“Both of them?”

“Mhmm.”

“Together?”

I shoot her a disbelieving expression. “Of course not. Mom is here with Todd and Dad is here alone, hopefully. We are all supposed to grab lunch, though. But I have my doubts everyone will be in attendance. I’m surprised your parents haven’t hunted you down already.”

“Me, too. They have been acting weird today. Even Bryce is being cagey. They were supposed to video me walking to show the superstars. Jack bet Gray $500 bucks I wouldn’t make it on time. Jokes on him. Gray said he’d have a surprise for me if I made sure he won and you know I am not above bribery.”

Bryce, Jack, and Grayson are three of Lainey’s brother’s, along with Declan. They’re all older except for Bryce. Considering how wealthy her older brothers are and how much they dote on her, there is no telling what that bribe could be.

“I wonder what the surprise is. Maybe they finally got you the teacup pig you always wanted.”

“Don’t tease, Ellie! You know that would make my life,” she pouts. I’m only half-joking. I wouldn’t put it past Jack to get her the pig she’s been begging for as long as I’ve known her. I’m not sure he’s ever told her ‘no’ on anything.

“There they are!” she points behind me. I turn around in time to the two of my favorite people walking over.

“There’s my baby! I can’t believe you graduated! It seems as if you were driving that Barbie Jeep over Bryce just last week.” Mama C cries, engulfing her daughter in a hug. She is definitely where Lainey gets her dramatics from.

“I’m not the baby,” my bestie mumbles. I hear the smile in her voice. Bryce may have taken her spot as the youngest Ryder, but you’d never know with how they all treat her.

“You, too, honey,” her mother directs to me, ignoring her daughter’s protest. “We know how hard you worked.”

“Thank you, Mama C.” I sink into the warmth of her embrace as she hugs me next. I love my mom, but she was too preoccupied by her rocky marriage and then dating to nurture me the way Lainey’s mom did. Our relationship was more of a friendship, forcing me to parent myself far sooner than I should have. Luckily, I had a safe space at the Ryder’s house where I could retreat and be a kid.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I peer up to see Lainey’s dad. “You done good, Ellie girl. Your last check is in the mail,” he says with a wink. It’s been a long-standing joke on his part that he paid me to be friends with his daughter to keep an eye on her. He would take away my imaginary salary if he knew about the schnapps incident, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“I’m going to go find my parents,” I say to my second family. Normally, I never want to leave them, but watching the love between them makes me crave a similar moment with my family. “I’ll see you tonight, right, Laines?”

“Ten p.m. sharp!”

I fight to hold back my eye roll. The day Lainey is on time for something is the day I play the lottery.

Pushing through the crowd, I stand on my tip toes searching for my mom or dad. When my calves get tired, I pull out my phone to call them. Switching it off ‘Do Not Disturb,’ I am greeted by several texts.

12:16 PM

Finny

Congrats on graduating, E! I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Drinks on me when I get leave to come home.

I snort. My brother turned twenty-one a few months ago. He can barely get himself a drink. My heart sank when I found out he wasn’t able to attend. Not because I care if he saw me walk, but because I haven’t seen him since Christmas and won’t see him again until later this summer. Finn attends the Naval Academy and is taking part in some specialized training this summer.

I send him a ‘thank you’ back and scroll back through my messages as one from Dad pops up.

Dad

Hey, kiddo. You looked great up there with all those chords. I know I said I’d go to lunch, but I’ve got to hit the road. One of my clients is having a crisis with customs allowing his dogs into the UK. You know how these celebrities can be about their pets. Rain check!

Letting out a sigh that is equally annoyance and relief, I ignore his message and text Mom where to find me. Dad isn’t expecting a reply. This is nothing new for us. My father isn’t what you would call reliable unless you are one of his clients. He loves me as best he knows how, but he’s missed or left early from almost every important event in my life, even before the divorce.

I think being the youngest of five played a role in his inability to care about anyone but himself. When you are catered to your entire life by your family and then your wife, it’s easy to see how that could warp your view of the world. It’s a wonder he can be responsible for other people when he never had to be responsible for himself. I try not to hold it against him, but I also don’t set my expectations high .

I deeply love both my grandparents, but they had their hands full with a house of seven. I can relate to kids raising kids. I tried to ensure Finn didn’t end up spoiled like Dad. I think I did a good job even if, like Dad, he left home as soon as he could.

Finn went into the military while my dad left to get a taste of the rock and roll lifestyle. He bounced around until settling in Nashville after meeting my mom and becoming a tour manager for some of the biggest names in country music. Honestly it’s a miracle my parents stayed married as long as they did if the stories I’ve heard about the tours he’s been on are true.

That can’t be blamed on his parents. I thought my Irish Catholic grandmother was going to have a heart attack when she found out about the divorce. Thankfully, she did not because I want more time with the spitfire. I am envious of all the extra time my cousins have gotten by living close to her. She was supposed to come today, but she broke her foot carrying a garden gnome.

Thoughts of my father and childhood kill the warm fuzzies I got from the Ryders, by the time I finally spot my mom plowing through the crowd, her new husband Todd trailing behind. The silver lining of Dad’s departure is lunch will be much less awkward.

Did I say lunch would be less awkward? L-O-L. Mom was in rare form, oohing and aahing over my accomplishments and how hard she worked to get me there. I don’t recall a single time she helped me with a project or checked my homework, but I don’t point that out. I also say nothing about her sacrificing for my education in the hard times even though Dad is the one who paid for my private school tuition. I learned at a young age that it is easier to let Mom live in her delulu fantasies.

After the longest meal of my life, I am ecstatic to head back to my apartment to get a much needed nap before my night out with the girls. Plugging my phone into the charger, I cue up my favorite ASMR audio and drift off to sleep to the sound of a deep, soothing voice.