Page 39 of Never Lasting (Never Blue)

“Are you torturing me?” I asked.

He let out a throaty chuckle. “What’s the point in being a dad if I can’t torture my kid?”

I held my hands out. “Just show me!”

“I need a drumroll.”

Making a big show of my annoyance, I huffed and stuck out my lip, and then I pounded on my knees until he whipped the record out to show me.

I was stunned silent.

He cocked his head, his brow pinched. “Thought you’d be happy.”

My eyes jerked from my favorite White Stripes album—signed by both Jack and Meg—to my dad’s, which were identical to my own. “Dad. You did so good. I’m just a little in shock right now. Can…can we listen?”

“Absolutely. I don’t buy music not to listen to it.”

Carefully, he started the record and took his spot next to mine. I slouched in my chair and closed my eyes, absorbing the sound.

This was our ritual, and we didn’t invite any of our other family members to join us. My mom had tried, but she got through one song before she tried to talk. When my dad and I simultaneously shushed her, she got offended and never came back.

By the time the record came to an end, my cheeks were damp with tears. I’d listened to this CD a thousand times, but nothing compared to sitting in the garage with my dad and sharing the pureness of music on vinyl.

“You know I like old-school punk, but I’m digging on that,” he said once he tucked the record back in its sleeve.

“I don’t steer you wrong,” I said.

His smile turned contemplative, and his eyes traveled my face. “Tell me about the boy.”

I sighed and opened my mouth to deny it yet again, but he held his hand up. “I’m not going to believe there’s no boy with all the time you’ve been spending on the phone. So just tell me.”

“There might be a boy. A man. His name’s Jude. He’s a musician.” I wrinkled my nose at the last word.

“Why the face? And when you say man, how old are we talking?”

“The face is because I don’t trust musicians, and he’s twenty-two. Sal Solvino was a boy, Jude Goldman is a man.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “Doesn’t sound catholic.”

That had to be the first thing he picked up on. “He’s not catholic, but we’re not getting married, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

He fluffed his mustache. “You think I’m pretty?”

I swatted at him. “The prettiest.”

He leveled me with a more serious gaze. “Has this Jude character given you a reason not to trust him? Or is this a blanket mistrust of musicians?”

“Blanket.”

He nodded slowly. “As much as I’d like to pretend you’re a little girl and will remain that way forever, you’ll be twenty next week, and to the best of my knowledge, you’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know why, but I hate to think you’re using this family or your schoolwork as an excuse not to live. I’m not saying go crazy, but hell, Tali, be young. Date a musician. Date a banker. Date a baseball player. Not all at once, mind you, and don’t come home pregnant.”

I snorted. “I can promise that won’t happen.”

“Your mom and I may be a little old-fashioned in some regards, but we don’t live under a rock. We want you to have experiences and figure the world out, which was why we never said anything when you and Nina snuck out to concerts, and why we let you go away for school.”

I almost fell out of my chair. “You knew?”

He gave me aare you kidding me?look.“You and your cousin are terrible liars, and I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to sneak out of the house without being heard while wearing combat boots. Don’t know why you never thought to take them off.” He shook his head. “The point is, Mom and I knew, but we let it slide because you’ve always been the most responsible of my kids. I trust you not to get into jams, and if you do, you’ll figure your way out.”

I twisted my lips, contemplating his words. Nina was going to die when I told her my parents knew about our sneaking out days. “So, give the musician a chance?”

“If that’s what you want, do it.”

There was no question I wanted that—wanted him.

I was going to give the musician a chance.

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