Page 66 of Sing For Me

She gives him that soft smile she reserves just for him. The one that always makes my chest ache in a weird way that I think might have something to do with loneliness.

“Yes, we did,” she murmurs and gets up to stand at his side.

My dad pulls her in close. “And after all the just-friends crap, she let me get in her pants again.”

“Cash!”

I can’t help laughing with the rest of them, even though the last thing I want to hear about is my mom’s pants.

“What they’re saying,” Aunt Paige says, “is that friendships can sometimes lead to beautiful relationships.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, burying my head in my hands. “Can I leave yet?”

“We’re sorry.” Aunt Daisy laughs, pulling my hands from my face. “We’ll be good.”

“We just want to know about your life,” Uncle Reed says. “Since we never see you.”

My shoulders tense at that. “Reed,” Paige murmurs softly.

“No, I’m just saying,” he goes on. “We fucking miss you, kid. You used to always hang around. Hell, we could never get rid of you.”

“I grew up,” I mutter, staring at the ground, a mixture of anger and guilt coursing through my veins. I know I’ve been a shitty son for the past few years. A shitty nephew. I’ve done everything within my power to be there for my siblings and my younger cousins but when it comes to the adults…there’s just too much there. Too much anger and blame and confusion. It’s easier to just stay away.

“You used to be at my house all the time,” Daltrey adds softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I grit my teeth so I don’t throw it off.

“Because Rose and River lived there,” I snap. “And now they live with me.”

“You didn’t just come to visit them and you know it.” His voice is a little sharper now and God, I don’t want to have this conversation.

“None of my kids have left home yet,” Uncle Lennon points out. “And you don’t come hang out at our place anymore either.”

“You used to sit in my music room for hours,” Uncle Reed says. “You would play that guitar while—”

I stand suddenly, knocking Daltrey’s hand from my shoulder. Everyone stares up at me.

“I need to see Riv about something,” I mutter, even though I have nothing to say to him. I don’t even know where he is.

“Will,” my dad says, reaching for my arm. “Just talk to us.”

“There’s nothing to fucking say!”

I don’t realize that I shouted it until the silence in the yard registers. All of my cousins have stopped playing and talking to turn and stare at us. I close my eyes, trying to get my temper under control.

I run my hand over the back of my neck in agitation. “I think I’ll just head out.”

“Don’t do that,” my dad says, frustrated. Maybe even angry.

“Will.” My mother’s voice is commanding even when quiet. “You’re not going home.”

My anger surges. “Mom—”

“You’re going to come and sit with me and eat a hamburger,” she says, in that firm voice that I never could argue with. “And then you’re going to spend time with your brother and sister and your cousins. Okay?”

“I’m not talking about Eva anymore,” I say, hearing the whiney petulance in my voice and hating it.

“Eva isn’t the one we want to talk to you about,” my dad says softly.

I don’t look at him. Don’t look at any of my uncles. But I don’t leave the yard, either. Instead I let my mom take my hand in her much smaller one and pull me over to the picnic tables on the grass.

I stay for another hour, playing Jenga with Silas and Nix, letting Santana and Lyric show me all their pictures from the sleepover the night before, talking to Vega about the recipe she’s planning for the next show. I talk to my mom and to my cousins. Kick a soccer ball around with CeCe. I eat a hamburger.

But I don’t go back to the patio. And I don’t talk to my dad or my uncles again.