Page 7 of For The Record

“Dad, come on,” Ryder says, his voice tired as though this is a conversation he’s heard a dozen times before, a lecture drilled into him from an early age that he never bothered to get the hang of, or perhaps never wanted to. A scab that keeps reopening. I have one of those, too. Maybe it’s why we got together in the first place: matching wounds. “Don’t bring Skye into this.”

“No, I want to hear her opinion,” he says. “Tell me, what chance do you think Ryder has of making it in the music biz?”

My heart clenches into the rope in a tug of war. I bite my lip before taking a swig of water.

“With all due respect, Mr. Black, I don’t want to be used as a prop in your dysfunctional family drama,” I say tightly, with the kind of mildly slurred audacity that only two shots of gin can bring me. Pushing my chair back from the table and picking up my half-eaten plate of food, I walk toward the minuscule kitchen. “Excuse me.”

Stumbling slightly before I grab onto the counter, Poppy and her mother stare at me with wide eyes. “What? I finished eating.”

Poppy senses my half-tipsy discomfort and pats me on the back. “You okay?”

I scrape my plate into the garbage disposal and drop it into the sink. “I think I’m just going to go to bed. Don’t let me disturb your family dinner.”

“Skye, please…” Poppy gives me her large, imploring puppy-dog eyes. “Stay.”

“Five minutes. And then I’m out. I didn’t ask for this, and it’s not my fault that Ryder is too much of a coward to tell his parents,” I say in a harsh whisper.

She winces. “He’s not that bad. You know how our father is. If he’d told him that you broke up, he would’ve said it’s another reason to go back to Lexington.”

I sigh. As much as I’m put out with Ryder right now, I know what it is to have a dream. “Okay.”

She plays with the ends of her braid. “So you’ll stay?”

“Just for you.”

When I exit our cramped kitchen, Ryder has already gone. Bruce meets my eyes. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, Skye. I’m sorry. It’s… He’s my son, and I hate to see him like this, you know that?”

I don’t. “Of course. It must be a bit of a shock for you.”

“I mean his ma and me, all this time, we were thinking, at least he’s got his sister, and you. Now, well, we just worry about him.”

Edna tuts. “He shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye to his mother.”

I bite my lip. That’s the only thing she’s upset about? Just as I’m about to say my goodbyes to the Blacks, my phone buzzes with a text.Poppy, can you get me my jacket? Thanks.

What am I even saved as in his phone that he would mix us up?Poop?

Should I show the text to Poppy, or just get him his jacket? I guess I have to be the bigger person, eventually.

Slinging his leather jacket over one arm, I say good night and walk out of the apartment to the parking garage.

I spy Ryder’s red Mustang idling, his taillights on. As I walk over to the car, he rolls down the window. “I brought your jacket,” I say over the purr of the engine.

“Thanks,” he mutters. His gaze darts up to meet mine. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yes, were you going to run over my foot?”

He gives a brusque laugh. “Unlike you, I’m not that petty.”

“I’m not petty.”

“You blocked me on every social media platform that exists. I’m surprised the text even went through to you.”

“It’s called boundaries.”

“Why don’t you go back in and schmooze with my parents since they think you’re their child and I’m the prodigal son?”

“Why can’t we just get along, Ryder?”

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