Page 9 of Perfect Pitch

As I scrub the ink from my fingers, I mutter, “You can say that twice.”

With a devilish glint in her eyes, she starts, “What a damn...”

I throw the towelette at her. She catches it one-handed. Maybe we bonded because I don’t know who my father is and hers died shortly after she was born. Either way, when she moved to Kensington a few years ago, we found a likeness in each other that’s only grown through long hours talking, riding out at my grandfather’s farm, and trying to sneak into Rodeo Ralph’s so someone would take pity on us and buy two underage kids a beer.

“You could still go,” she reminds me.

I set aside my work and look into Fallon’s light eyes. “To what end? So the talk after becomes how I went with Gramps? Uncle Ethan? Uncle Jesse?”

Fallon’s face takes on a dreamy cast. “Ethan is gorgeous.”

I shove at her shoulder. “Stop perving on my uncle. He’s like... what? Twenty years older than you?”

She licks her lips. “Sounds about right.”

“And people accuse me of having a daddy complex,” I grumble.

“That’s because you don’t know what sex with an older man is like, Austyn. Once you do, you’ll be ruined,” she informs me wisely.

I snort. “And you know this how?” Fallon’s as much of a virgin as I am.

“I’ve read things. Kindle Unlimited provides a fabulous education.”

I pick up my notebook, now certain I won’t transfer over the ink to my homework assignment. But I can’t concentrate on the 18th century translation of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense in front of me. Instead, I ask, “Do you ever wonder how different your life would have been if your father was in your life?”

“All the time,” she admits freely.

“And?”

“And while I wonder about the what-ifs, the maybes, the possibilities, I know with complete certainty the unconditional love I have would be different.”

“From your mother,” I conclude.

“Exactly.” She frowns. “That may sound selfish, but we’re a team—just like you and Paige are.”

It’s a testament to the closeness of our friendship. Fallon’s been invited by my mother to call her by her first name. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. But...”

“But what?”

“I want to know more about my father,” I admit painfully.

Fallon thinks about that for long moments before probing gently, “She’s never told you about him?”

I wave my hands in the air. “Oh, little bits here and there. I have his eyes. He was her high school sweetheart. He was supposed to come back for her and never did.”

“But you don’t know any more than that?”

“No.”

“Have you tried asking?”

I mimic, “When you’re older and can handle it, Austyn. Don’t push me on this.”

“What? That doesn’t sound like Paige.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly what she said; it was how she made me feel.”

“What exactly did she say, Austyn?” Fallon’s exasperated.

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