Page 15 of Must Have Been Love

“She’s Wayne’s daughter. That makes her one of us,” Autumn counters, and I can see that stubborn look in her eye. She’s ten years younger than me, but damn she can be recalcitrant when she wants to be. Like when she fell in love with my best friend and the two of them got married.

I’ve come to terms with that. Maybe I even like it a bit. I know Parker will take care of her, and I need the headspace to stop worrying about her constantly.

“She’ll be leaving soon,” I point out gently, because I know Autumn has the tendency to get attached. “Don’t put too much hope on being besties with her.”

But the truth is, I don’t like my kid sister being lonely. Sure, she has Parker and her business which is growing. And she takes great care of Ayda. But I also know she’s an outgoing woman. She craves female company.

So I’m going to go apologize even though I don’t want to. And then I’ll forget about this woman and her fucking lip piercing for once and for all.

My life is finally on an even keel after being rocky for way too long. I need to concentrate on Ayda’s recovery and nothing else.

“But you’ll still apologize?” Autumn says hopefully, giving me that wide-eyed stare she knows will work every damn time.

“I’ll try.” My reply is short. “But don’t expect miracles.”

* * *

SKYLER

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since I arrived on Liberty and I’m already thinking about leaving. So I decide it’s time to start rage cleaning and forget all about that handsome ass who thinks he owns everything and everybody on the island.

But becauseI’m me, and easily distracted, I decide I need music to get motivated. I walk over to the old-style jukebox that’s covered in a film of dust and hunker down to plug it in.

As soon as I flick the switch I wait for the sparks to fly and the whole thing to explode in front of me; after the morning I’ve had, it really would be the icing on the cake.

But instead, the lights on the Wurlitzer glow in pinks and whites and purples, forming an arch over the huge wooden case. I lean forward to look at the music options, smiling as I see them.

I remember finding some vinyls and an old record player Dad left behind in Mom’s garage, years after he left us. They were in a tattered box on a shelf and it was a little bit like finding a treasure trove. I can still remember my excitement at listening to Fleetwood Mac for the first time, dancing in the dusty garage, feeling like I was free.

I still love Fleetwood Mac. Stevie Nicks is my queen.

Along with Fleetwood Mac, there are other singers I recognize on the jukebox’s list. Bruce Springsteen, Journey, Tom Petty. My dad’s musical heart belonged in the seventies and eighties, the same place my own soul belongs. And that makes me feel warm inside.

Hitting the second button I choose Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’”, and the strum of his guitar echoes out from the speakers on either side of the jukebox, the familiar riff making my heart feel wistful.

Then the vocals start. His voice rasps out, making me shiver. Telling me that she’s a good girl and she loves her mama.

I start to sing, feeling stupidly emotional, as I walk behind the counter to locate the cleaning supplies I was looking for earlier. There’s so little there. Just a bottle of bleach, a bag of clean cloths, and a spray bottle that’s seen better days.

I’m going to have to go shopping. I grab my purse and keys, still singing along with Tom, my heart starting to beat faster as he gets to the part about being a bad boy because he’s breaking her heart.

Then his voice lifts as he reaches the chorus. He’s free fallin’, he tells me, as I sing along. You can’t help it with this song, you just have to go for it. I start to dance, singing my heart out, feeling more like Tom than the girl he’s written the song about.

I’m not the good girl my mom wanted me to be. I’m the wayward one. I don’t know how else to be.

I sing louder, loud enough to push away those dark thoughts. I’ve spent a long time trying to be the person my mom and sister wanted me to be. I never could do it. I can’t conform, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a little part of me that wishes I could.

Wishes I could be the good girl that fits in with the rest of my family.

I wipe away a tear, because I’m not here for that, as Tom launches into the second chorus and I sing along.

I’m free. That’s what I want to be. That’s what runs through my veins.

Maybe that was the same thing that ran through dad’s veins, too. The need to be different. To not conform.

I put my hands up in the air, swaying, singing like my heart depends on it. I’m going to be okay, I always have been.

And then I just about jump out of my skin, because I’m not alone in the bar.He’sstanding there, in the door way watching me.

---