Page 201 of Second Sets Omnibus
“Even him, asshole,” Rad grumbles, shaking his head. “I know he royally fucked us over, but Lyric is four, bro. She wouldn’t understand why he stopped showing up.”
“It would break her heart,” Asher whispers, licking his lips. “And mine.”
“Then we need to make a pact,” I say, turning to look at each of them, letting them see the seriousness of my expression.
“What kind of pact?” My eyes drag to Asher’s ghostly pale face as he slumps to the floor, cradling his guitar to his chest.
“For our daughter,” Rad agrees without a second thought.
“It’s for Lyric. Right here. Right now. We promise each other that no matter what shit happened in the past, we don’t show it in front of Lyric. She’s our priority, but so is River.”
Wild plans of groveling run through my mind. I’ll get on my knees for hours on end until she looks me in the eyes and tells me she forgives me for my misdeeds. I failed River in so many fucking ways, and it eats away at me. I’m the reason we fucking left. I confirmed what I saw. Hell, I took a picture of his lips on hers. I’m the reason we all got into that SUV and drove away with nothing more than bitterness and our thoughts guiding us into the future.
And I’ll never forgive myself for what I did.
“We will not be my fucking parents,” Rad proclaims. “Fuck them.”
Though he doesn’t show it often, his parents’ neglect wears him down, even after years of being out of their grasp. Sure, they fed him, housed him, and clothed him. But their cold stares and constant need to control his every move drove him away from them in the form of rebellion. It’s something they’ve never forgiven him for. As for Rad, he’ll never forget their words, actions, and the catalyst of it all—when they kicked him out.
Pain envelops my heart. My parents were fucking saints through everything, taking in Rad when he needed someonemost. They nurtured us with love and support, letting us explore our passion for music and never tearing it down like Rad’s parents insisted. I was the lucky one. The others didn’t fare well in the parents’ department and look at where it got us. Deep down, it isn’t that big of a surprise that Asher let his desperation drag him down the road of betrayal in hopes of leaving his father’s grasp.
“Hell no,” Kieran agrees, stopping right before all of us. “Fuck our piece of shit parents.”
“Lyric comes first,” Asher agrees from the ground, staring up at the ceiling with a pained expression.
Kieran blows out a breath, and his face falls. “We’ll be the parents we never had.” Running a hand down his face, he turns his icy stare in Asher’s direction. “But you stay the fuck away from River. No canoodling or trying to prove yourself. Your story with River is fucking done.”
Asher lets out a humorless laugh. “You think she’d have me after what I did? I know it doesn’t mean shit, but I am sorry. I was a?—”
“Selfish fucking prick?” Rad quips without an ounce of humor lining his tone.
“That,” Asher agrees, pointing a finger toward Rad. “More than a fucking prick. Listen, we can disagree as much as we want…” he trails off, taking a deep breath. “But if we want this to work, we need to work together to achieve this band shit…and with Lyric.” He swallows hard. “I’ll be the best dad I can be. I won’t interfere with anything. But I will continue to make it up to River in any way I know how so she sees how fucking sorry I am. I just?—”
“I get it,” I say, surprising myself with my admission. He may be a prick, but I can see it in the desperate expression he’s sending our way. He needs Lyric in his life as much as she needshim. He loves her and has a strong connection with her in just a short time. “Lyric is all of ours. River has made that clear.”
Kieran silently broods, deep in thought, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine,” he concedes with a nod. “We do this together. Even if I can’t stand to be in the same fucking room as you. We do this band shit, go to the therapy she insists on, and try our fucking best. At the end of the day, we step up and help with Lyric. Whatever River needs, we need to be available for her. We need?—”
“To let her know how sorry we are,” I say softly, earning a nod of appreciation from Kieran.
“Yes,” he whispers, taking a deep breath and swallowing the emotions I know he’s feeling.
“Here, here!” Rad shouts, tapping out a light rhythm on the snare drum, adding a few light crashes of the cymbals. “Here’s to our new future, bros!” he shouts before jumping into our first song, sounding more confident and crisper than he has in months.
We’ll make it through no matter the heartache or the trials before us. One day at a time. One steppingstone at a time. The boys and I have been through hell, but now it’s time for us to pull our heads out of our asses, swallow our hurt and rage, and let River know we’re here for good.
There’s no getting rid of us.
The sun beamswarmth across my face and bare chest when I step out the front door of the band house into the fresh early evening air. Every ounce of tension from our two-hour band practice, and the rest of the day’s tension with the new therapist melts away with the sun’s unforgiving rays, evaporating into dust.
Finally, I can breathe. My jaw loosens, and my muscles sag.
After practice, the boys and I decided to cool off in our respective rooms. Alone. Hours of side-eyeing, snarking, and undermining each other had put a real damper on our attitudes. We set our egos aside for River and Lyric and did what we had to do until it became too much to handle. Without a word, we trudged to our rooms, shut the doors, and fucking locked them, trying to catch our breaths.
Or, we tried to, at least. Nothing says piling on more stress like an unexpected knock on your front door. Five minutes. That’s all the reprieve I got. I barely sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand down my face when it happened.
Knock. Knock. Knock.Who knew something so simple could echo through an entire house, pulling us from our rooms? It was comical, really. Each of us stuck our heads out our doors with frowns, looking at one another like they were the culprits.
“Who the hell is it?” Rad grumbles, wiping the sweat from his wrinkled forehead sans pants and shirt, barely fitting into his tiny briefs.
