Page 114 of Crimson Desires

I cracked a smile, stepping away from the stove to greet him. “Tacos. Also, ‘kiddo’? You haven’t called me that since I was like, six.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “Aster! Good God, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Who did you think was cooking? The maid?”

Dad and Melinda exchanged a brief look. Then, Dad shook his head. “Forget that. Aster, come here. I haven’t seen you in four weeks. Give me a hug.”

There was something off about Dad, but I decided not to think too deeply about it. He’d just come out of surgery. He was probably just experiencing some residual effects from the anesthetics or something.

I hugged Dad, suddenly feeling like a kid again in his arms. The itch of his scrappy beard against my cheeks felt wonderfully familiar.

Dad pulled back. He drew his eyebrows in, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Mel told me about your issues with the tour. I’m sorry, honey. It’s a damn shame that you had to leave early.”

I forced a smile. “It’s okay, Dad. I only left a few days early.”

I tried not to think about how Wicked Crimson’s final show was tonight. I tried not to imagine Jack and the guys performing their sound checks or goofing off in the green room. I tried not to think about Ava running herself ragged handling the tour and managing the merch booth at the same time.

I tried not to wish that I was there instead of here.

“Well, let’s not let your hard work go to waste. Let’s eat,” Dad said.

Happy to be distracted from my thoughts, I went about plating and preparing everyone’s tacos. Melinda and Dad sat down at the dining table. They took turns telling me about Dad’s surgery. It was almost endearing—every time Dad or Melinda would pause for more than a few seconds, the other would continue right where the first left off.

Sitting in the kitchen, eating lunch with Dad and Melinda, was the first dose of normal that went down easy.

“So, tell me about the tour, honey! I want to hear everything,” Dad said. “Even if it means I find out that you did drugs.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” I said, sarcasm painting my voice. “My story’s pretty short if you cut out all the crystal meth and cocaine.”

“Cocaine away, honey,” Dad chuckled.

For the next hour, I ate and talked. I told Dad about the tour. While I omitted some of the sexier details about my experience, I told him pretty much everything else.

At the end of my recount, Dad frowned.

“You know, I knew you were joking about the crystal meth. But I was expecting some drugs.” Dad shook his head solemnly.

“Are you seriously disappointed that I didn’t do drugs, Dad?”

“You were on tour with a rock band, Aster! The saying is sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And all you did was the rock and roll.”

“Well...”

“Aster, you can talk to me all you want about drugs. But if it’s all the same to you, your old man would like to live in a world of ignorant bliss when it comes to you and the S-word.”

Melinda smacked Dad on the arm. “The girl is twenty-four!” She winked at me. “If you ever want to talk about the S-word with me, I’d love to hear about the kind of trouble you got up to. I’ll even bake cookies.”

I laughed.

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer, Mel.” My laughter died down a bit. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for taking care of the house. It looks beautiful.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all, dear. Your father was quite insistent that the house look nice.”

“Really? Why’s that?” I asked. Dad wasn’t a filthy guy by any means—but he was a guy. He didn’t particularly care if the house was spotless so long as there weren’t flies buzzing around.

As if on cue, a knock came at the door.

“Dad, were you expecting someone?” I asked.

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