Page 116 of Wild Eyes
“We got the green ones, didn’t we? Don’t kick a guy while he’s down.”
She beams back at me. “We could have gotten both.”
I wave her off. “Nah, I’ll learn to love the green ones.”
I hear the sound of her seat belt buckle in, and then see the flash of an arm that reaches forward to open the glove box. She’s rifling through, and I’m confused.
“What are you doing?”
“I need a piece of paper and a pen.”
“Why?”
“A lyric just came to mind. If I don’t write it down, I’ll forget it.”
She seems borderline frantic, and I know she won’t find what she’s searching for in there. So I open the center console and pull out a receipt I never needed in the first place and a pen with barely any ink left.
“My hero,” she sighs without even looking up. Then I sit and watch the ink spill from the pen across the crumpled piece of paper.
I found home in a broken glass
I found home in the words that he gave me
She peeks up, catching me watching her. But she doesn’t hide the words. She just grins.
“Careful Weston. Your number-one fan is showing.”
I laugh it off and start the truck. Pulling out of the driveway to the sound of more pen strokes. It feels special sitting next to her right now.
The girl who told me she couldn’t write a song.
Writing a song.
I feel like I haven’t seen Skylar in days. She’s been leaving at the crack of dawn and crawling into bed late—but never without waking me up for some attention. Attention I happily give.
But aside from that, she’s been living at the recording studio with Ford. Working. She’s got the bug and it’s inspiring to see. A little part of me wants to see this moment unfold in person. To watch her in her element and just…admire.
Which is why I’m here, sneaking into the studio.
Ford is on one side of the glass with Cora and some other guy, all of them are wearing headphones and watching raptly. In the actual studio, I can see Skylar, and a guy on the keyboard, and…Ford’s dad, holding his guitar. The three of them are talking animatedly. Skylar’s eyes are bright and her cheeks are pink.
My jaw drops. Ford Grant Senior. My best friend really called in the big guns.
“Fucking cool, right?”
I’m so busy gawking that I don’t hear Rosie sneak up from beside me. “Super fucking cool. Did it kill Ford to ask his dad?”
Rosie bites down on a smile. “It will be worth it, and he knows it. He brought his friend to play the keyboard. They’re keeping it super simple. But it sounds amazing.”
I’m so happy for my girl that I could burst.
“You gonna head in? Say hi?”
I glance down at my sister with a grin. “Nah. I just want to watch her for a bit.”
The look I get back is both amused and knowing. But she doesn’t rib me about it. Instead, she walks away shaking her head and leaving me to watch in peace.
So I do. And it’s fucking incredible.
