Page 84 of Goalie Interference

Sophie

Cash knocked on my bedroom door later that night, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t plan to until I had a better idea of what to say to him. It felt like it was my fault that my family had so little interest in what I did, and was that right? While part of me wanted to push my success in front of Cash, it was so minimal compared to what he and Dad had that it seemed silly. I was upset with Remy for bringing it up, even if it was something that a normal family would know about. But also relieved, because I’d been too scared to do it myself.

I’d have to explain to Remy why my brother knowing I actually had a job had been a secret in my family. Tomorrow. Once I’d found out how Cash was going to respond. I’d always hoped he’d be supportive. But Dad wouldn’t, and I hadn’t been sure how my brother would land.

I woke up early after a fitful sleep. There was no sound of Cash, so I dressed and grabbed a banana to fuel me before I escaped to the workshop. This wasn’t a hobby, and I had clientswaiting on work from me. I pulled out the guitar I was working on and was soon absorbed.

A hand on my shoulder made me jump. I whirled around, pulling my ear protection down, and barely missing hitting Cash with my arm.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” I gasped.

“Didn’t mean to. I knocked and yelled, but you didn’t hear me.”

I drew in a long breath to try to slow my heartbeat. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to get tinnitus by not using proper protection.”

“Could we talk?”

I was nervous, but we should. We probably should have a long time ago. “Okay.” I set the fretboard down and leaned against the workbench.

“I owe you an apology.”

I blinked quickly, emotion making me teary. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset like that.”

“No, that was my fault. After talking to Remy, it hit me that I listened to Conrad and never even asked you. I just assumed you were messing around with guitars as a hobby, and that you weren’t very good.”

Of course he did. “I took the course. I apprenticed. You think I did that for nothing?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, I trust Conrad with my instruments so I tend to believe him about anything related to guitar work.”

“I asked to apprentice with him, and he told me no. ‘You’re not going to make up for your lack of musical talent by messing up my guitars.’”

Cash went rigid. “What? After all the work we’ve done with him, the relationship we have?”

“Yeah, well, he’s not a big fan of women in his line of work.” Cash didn’t seem to have picked up on that, but he had a Y chromosome, so.

“Damn. That’s not good. But also, I mean, you work in my carriage house.”

What did that have to do with anything? “Because you offered. It was cheap. I wanted to pay back the trust money I’d used for my training, and to set up the shop.”

His brows drew down and he looked around the workshop as if seeing it for the first time. “But you are making money? I mean, this equipment costs a lot.” He waved his hand around as if I wasn’t aware of the price of every piece.

I’d known he hadn’t taken me seriously, but this still hurt. “Yes. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to get top-of-the-line equipment. And I’ve been saving up for my own shop. Building up my business, earning a reputation, because starting out isn’t easy. I haven’t touched Dad’s money since I paid back what I took out for school.”

He looked like he’d been hit with a hammer. “Huh. I thought you were living on that.”

Dad had given us each a big nest egg when we turned eighteen. That had given Cash freedom from financial worries when he started his band. And Dad’s name, Williams—that would have opened doors for him too. But Cash thought I’d decided to just drift on my money.

“I wanted to make my own way.” And to prove to Dad and Cash that I had talent. Someday a client would talk about how good I was, and they might finally be proud. Notice and be proud.

Cash shook his head, hands on his hips. “We should have helped.”

“Using you would have made things easier, sure. But a lot of people would think I was riding on your coattails. I’ve gotten thisfar in spite of you, not because of you.” And I was damned proud of that.

“Good for you. I’m glad you’re doing well. What’s up with Diane?”

“She’s retiring and wants me to take over.”

“You’re more than good if she’s trusting you with her business.”

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