Page 97 of Breaking Free

“I watched a video of you over and over again until I got it just right,” she says with pride. “What did you think, Mama?” She looks at me, hopeful for a good review.

“It was good. It was great. I’m just…well, I’m a little surprised,” I say to her. “That backbend, though—be careful with that. You could hurt yourself.”

I move Amia to my other hip, supporting her back with my free hand, and I move my eyes to J.R. “When you’re finished in here, can I talk to you?”

He gives me a nod, and then I leave the room.

I keep replaying the scene I just watched over and over again in my mind. It’s hard for me to fathom that my sweet Knox Rose went from playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” to a rock segment on the piano so quickly. Knox has been obsessed with J.R. since the day they met, and that has always made me happy. I have noticed how she watches his every move. I’ve noticed how she listens when he speaks. I knew somewhere deep down that my child would dismiss the things I want for her and for her life and go after the life her daddy lives. Why wouldn’t she? Compared to J.R.’s, my interests and talents are rather boring. Still, I’m not sure I am ready to watch her decide on music so quickly. She’s got so many other talents that she could explore.

I’ve placed Amia in her swing, and I sit across from her on the couch, waiting for J.R. to join me. She looks content as her blue eyes stare up at the mobile in front of her. Oh, to be a baby again. Life was so simple.

I’m probably overreacting to Knox’s little stunt, but I think we should tread this newfound love that she has discovered lightly. I don’t want to encourage her to chase these rock star dreams yet, and I want her to remain a kid for as long as she can. Kids her age should be building sand castles on the beach, coloring in coloring books, and obsessing over cartoons. Kids her age shouldn’t be head banging at the piano to a rock tune.

Finally, J.R. joins me and collapses on the couch next to me. He’s exhausted, and I know he wants to shower.He needs to shower.He probably wants a nap, too, but I’m not sure this conversation can wait. Knox moves fast, and we should get on the same page as quickly as possible.

“You’re exhausted,” I tell him, and I give him a pity tap on his cheek with the palm of my hand. It’s heartfelt. I don’t like seeing him so tired.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He sighs. “Not the performance part, but the drinking and not sleeping part.”

“I know, but you love it,” I say with a smile.

“I do.” Then he turns his eyes to mine. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

“Your daughter,” I say, changing my tone back to the disbelief and fear I was feeling just a few moments ago. “I had no idea that’s what she’s been doing these last couple of days.”

“I was impressed. The backbend? She didn’t even miss a beat. It took me years to master that,” he says with pride. “Kid is going places.”

I think he’s missing my point. “J.R., I don’t want her thinking she has to be just like you at the piano.” I remember her sweet, little hands playing preschool tunes once upon a time.

J.R. looks at me strangely and maybe even a little offended. “What are you saying?”

“Those moves don’t come with innocence, J.R. That’s just the beginning of what could be some rough teenage years if we don’t calm her down.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he says in opposition. I’m not sure why I thought he would side with me. At least, not on this topic.

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with it right now, but soon, she’ll be fourteen years old with a mohawk, wearing all black and a nose ring, and chugging liquor she found in the kitchen cabinet.”

“You have an active imagination,” he says to me dismissively. He even rolls his eyes at me. Only Kelley gets to do that.

Maybe I am being a little dramatic, but I know Knox, too. Yeah, she’s sweet, but she’s been a wild child from birth. It’s in her. I see it. I’ve always seen it, and I’ve done my best to tame it. Still, I can’t be angry with J.R. or Knox. I don’t get to choose what path she pursues. J.R. and I both agreed to that. Whether I like it or not, she loves music. She always has. Even before she knew who her dad was. She’s a natural entertainer. I can’t—and I won’t—change that.

“I guess this is what I get for making babies with some guy I met in a band,” I joke, but I’m a little serious, too, though I will never regret J.R. Ever.

J.R. looks at me in the most seductive way. His blue eyes are tantalizing. There’s some leftover eyeliner beneath each of his eyes, and even that is seductive to me. He doesn’t normally wear eyeliner—only for shows, and even then, only if he’s still drunk from the night before.It adds to his image.J.R.’s long hair hangs past his shoulders, and I can’t help but notice that even his curls have fallen flat with exhaustion. If I lacked any self-control, I would take him right now on this couch. Even with his exhausted, alcohol-infused self, he still makes my heart pound. He also knows how to distract me when necessary.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him, blushing slightly.

“Like what?” he asks, but he knows. His eyes have a twinkle to them, and I see a smirk on his face, too.

“The way you’re looking at me right now. It’s hot. Stop,” I say with a little laugh this time.

J.R. laughs at me, and then he looks away, pushing his hand through his hair. For a moment, we’re like two bashful pre-teens exploring brand new thoughts.

I lean into him, kissing his cheek, and then change my expression back to serious again. “Just promise me you’ll help me keep Knox tame until she can no longer be tamed.”

“I will,” he says. “I promise.”

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