Page 152 of Behind the Net

I smile up at Jamie. “Thank you for putting my parents up in a hotel.”

“Happy to.” His lips brush my ear as he lowers his voice. “I don’t want you to be quiet tonight.”

A shiver runs down my spine as I bite back a cheeky grin. My thighs squeeze together, thinking about his tongue between my legs last night, and then him taking me against the wall after, with my legs wrapped around his waist. Telling him I loved him unleashed something in Jamie, and he’s been showing his love for me in many, many ways.

I’m not complaining.

“We’re going to the bar,” Hayden cuts in. He points at my parents. “Ken? Maureen? Donna? You’re coming with us, right?”

My dad is about to faint with happiness.

* * *

The Filthy Flamingo is full of noise, laughter, conversation, and music, punctuated by the occasional drink getting knocked over. The team’s all here, even Ward. He’s still in conversation with my dad, but his eyes linger on Jordan behind the bar.

Jordan’s casual sex guy is on the small stage, playing guitar and singing, and I listen to the new song he’s trying out. It’s about wanting more from a girl who isn’t interested, and his eyesalsolinger on Jordan the entire time. He really needs to tune his guitar.

“Folks, I’m going to take a short break,” he says into the mic, and his eyes meet mine. “But I’m hoping our friend Pippa can play for you in the meantime.”

My eyes go wide as everyone turns to me. Hazel gives me an encouraging nod.

“Yeah, Pippa,” one of the players cheers. One of the drunker players howls like a wolf.

My parents stare at me in confusion. They know about me performing on New Year’s Eve—everyone in Silver Falls does—but they don’t know it’s a regular thing.

They haven’t seen me play live in years. My pulse picks up as nerves dance in my stomach. They call it a hobby, and they still think I’m going to have a career in marketing.

If I want to be in the music industry, though, I have to play in front of people, even if I’m scared.

I stand, and the people around me cheer. My parents look baffled at the response. My pulse drums in my ears as I make my way up to the stage. I know what song I’m going to play because it’s all so clear now. When I wrote song after song about Jamie, that was me telling him I loved him. When I wrote a song about struggling with the expectations of others, that was me thrashing against the cage placed around me.

“Hi,” I say into the mic, strumming the guitar. “I’m Pippa Hartley.”

A few people chuckle, because I’m friends with everyone in this room.

I launch into the song, and when I look at my parents, they’re listening with rapt attention. My mom wears a sweet yet sad smile, and my dad looks at me like I’m an NHL player. Something aches in my chest. My mom reaches for my dad’s hand, and he murmurs in her ear. She nods and smiles again.

I sing my heart out. I sing about wanting more, wanting to believe in myself, wanting to break free and be my own person. I sing about going for what I want because I don’t want to regret a single moment. I don’t want to waste a second doing something other than following my passion and purpose.

Being up here is where I’m meant to be. Even if nothing comes of it. Even if I play dive bars for the rest of my life.

Jamie watches me sing with a proud look, like I’m everything to him.

I sing about how taking the risk might be worth it, and when I’m done, the bar erupts in cheers and applause.

Back at the table, my parents are speechless. They haven’t seen me perform since high school, and back then, I’d only perform cover songs, never something I wrote. I take a seat, and Jamie glances between me and my parents, ready to jump in if needed, but I shake my head.

Jamie stood up for himself to his mom, and I can stand up for myself to my own parents. If I want a career in the music industry, I’m going to have to get used to standing up for myself.

“I’m not taking the marketing job,” I blurt out to my parents.

My mom’s expression is guarded. “Was the offer too low?”

“You need to negotiate.” My dad leans forward. “They expect you to negotiate the salary, Pippa.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Please, let me finish.”

Concern passes over their features. Beside me, Jamie waits, letting me handle this.

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