Page 153 of Behind the Net

“They didn’t make an offer because I rescinded my application.” I take a deep breath, watching them process this. My mom is freaking out, but she’s hiding it. I can tell from the look in her eyes. “I don’t want that job.”

My dad blinks. “You said you wanted it.”

“I don’t think I did.” I wince. “I thought it was the right thing to do.” I gesture over my shoulder at the stage, and I think about that thought exercise Jamie had me do in the forest and all the incredible moments I pictured. “That’s what I want to do. I want a career in the music industry. I want to write my own music and go on tour around the world playing for people. It makes me happy.” I meet Jamie’s steady gaze. “And I can do it. I’m talented and I work hard.”

My parents are silent as this sinks in.

“I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me,” I continue. “You worked so hard to pay for my school, and I’m going to pay you back. Every penny.”

“No,” my dad says quickly, frowning. “We don’t want that.”

“Agreed,” my mom adds. “That money was so you had options.”

“Exactly. We always wanted you girls to have options.” My dad glances at Hazel a few tables away. “We wanted you to have everything because we didn’t have that.”

My mom takes a deep breath, shifting in her seat, looking uncomfortable. I know she’s thinking about how she didn’t get into the ballet company in her twenties. She spent three decades teaching dance when it wasn’t her passion.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I tell her, and she raises an eyebrow. My pulse races because I hate being in conflict with them like this. “I’m taking a really big swing, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work out. The odds are against me.”

There’s a beat where she just studies me, and it’s the most serious I’ve ever seen her. “It’s going to be hard, Pippa.”

“I know.”

“It’s going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and there’s alikelypossibility that you’ll end up teaching music to five-year-olds.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, like she’s explaining a recipe to me. Pain flashes through her blue-gray eyes. “It’s hard to fail at something you love. It hurts so much.”

My chest strains for her, and my hands twist. “I know, but I still need to try, or I’ll regret it forever.”

She considers this for a long moment, and I worry that she’s unconvinced, but then she looks at my dad. Something passes between their gazes, some silent communication honed over decades of marriage, and her expression softens.

“We don’t want you to work a job you hate,” she admits. “We want you to be happy.” She glances up at the stage. “Being broke is really hard, honey.”

“She’ll never be broke,” Jamie cuts in, and the look he sends me tells me he means business.

I try not to laugh at his protectiveness.

“I’m okay with things being hard,” I tell them. “It’ll be worth it.”

We’re all quiet amid the bar noise.

“You’re really talented, sweetheart,” my dad says with a wistful look in his eye. “We’ve never seen you like that. While you were playing, I said to your mom, she looks like a pro up there.”

My mom nods, and she smiles at me like she sees me in a new light. “You looked like you belong up there.”

Something unwinds in my chest, thread by thread, until I feel free. “I do belong up there.”

Jamie’s hand covers mine in my lap, and I lace my fingers into his. He sends me a quick wink, and my heart jumps. “She recorded a demo with a producer,” he tells them.

“You did?” My dad looks between us.

I nod, smiling and squeezing Jamie’s hand. “Yep. I did.”

My parents exchange a look. “We don’t say it enough,” my dad says, and there’s a catch to his voice. “We’re proud of you. No matter what.”

“We really are.” My mom nods. “We love you so much.”

Their words are everything I wanted to hear, and I blink away the sting in my eyes.

“Love you, too,” I whisper, smiling.

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