Page 19 of Fight For Me

“Dad has decided to be really supportive, instead.”

He scoffs. “I said nothing about being supportive. I merely said I wasn’t going to lock you in your room.”

Mom grins at me. “For him, thatissupportive.”

She comes over and sits on the coffee table in front of us, her brown eyes searching mine. People usually say we look more like sisters than mother and daughter, and I honestly couldn’t imagine a better compliment. I know that I’m biased, but my mom is seriously the most beautiful woman in the world. She could have modeled, if she wanted to. Hell, shestillcould. The woman doesn’t look a day over thirty. I’m pretty lucky to share some of her gene pool. Sometimes my dad gets this look on his face when she walks into a room, like he still can’t get over the fact that he gets to be with her, even after all these years. It’s the sweetest damn thing ever, the way he looks at her.

But right now, all I see is concern etching her gorgeous face. “You look even more worried than him,” I grouse.

She smiles softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m feeling a lot of things right now. Excitement for you, because you’re standing right on the edge of this really big thing that I know you want. Worry that I won’t be able to protect you if things go wrong. Frustration because you’re too old to have to do what your parents tell you.” Her smile fades. “A fair amount of sadness at the idea of you moving out.”

I open my mouth to argue and she holds up her hands. “I know—you’re twenty-two. It’s perfectly acceptable for you to not live at home anymore. I got to keep you a lot longer than most parents.” She shrugs. “But I like having you around. You’re my favorite girl, you know.”

I feel choked up and have to swallow several times. “It’s not like I’m moving far away,” I point out when I can finally speak. “The condo is in LA. I’ll be around all the time.”

Dad flicks my arm again, and I turn away from Mom to look at him. “I want to see this place before you sign anything.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I want my lawyer to look over the contract.”

“Dad—”

“Having a second set of eyes on a legal document is smart, Alexandria.”

“Ooh, your full name,” Mom says, grinning at me. “He’s pulling out the big guns, baby.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I can take you by the condo tomorrow and I’ll talk to the lawyer about sending over a copy of the contract.”

Dad searches my face. “You really want to do this, Allie?”

I take a deep breath. “I really, really do.”

He looks resigned. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He nods and I turn to my mom, expectant.

She sighs and holds out her hand for me to take. “Why don’t you show me some of these clothes you’re going to be selling in your fancy new store on television.”

Wyatt

Idon’t bother to knock when I get to my Uncle Daltrey’s house. Growing up, I spent nearly as much time here as I did at my parents’ place down the street.

“Hey,” he says when I walk into the kitchen, his lips twitching up at the corners as he takes me in. “Been a while since you came barging into my place.”

“Yeah, but this time I won’t be sneaking in to play your piano,” I mutter.

His pleased expression immediately drops. “You’ve been at the doctor?”

“Yup. Lots of painful poking and prodding. Fun times.”

He walks over to me and squeezes my shoulder, his concerned blue eyes locking onto mine. “It’s going to be okay, Wyatt. You know that, right? The advances in this kind of surgery—”

“I know,” I lie, because I don’t really want to get into it right now. “So why have I been summoned here?”

I can tell he doesn’t want to drop it. If anyone understands how wrecked I’d be to lose my ability to play, it’s Daltrey. Out of all my dad’s brothers, he’s the one I’m closest to. I probably wouldn’t even play if it wasn’t for him. He’d given me my very first lessons back before my mom and Cash had even started dating. Hell, he’d bought me my first instrument, a baby grand Steinway that remains to this day my favorite piano.

He likes to tease that he only mentored me to annoy my dad, who would have much preferred I play guitar, but I know that’s only partially true. We’ve spent countless hours playing together over the years. When I got my acceptance to Julliard, I’m pretty sure Daltrey was even more proud than my own parents. When I realized the pain and lack of mobility in my hand wasn’t going away on its own, he’d flown up to Seattle for a few days to see if he could notice anything wrong with my form or technique that might be causing the problem. When that hadn’t helped, he’d found several experts for me to visit.