Second Chance Lane Page 18

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘With all the stuff you said you’d been doing over the last week, how come you’re not playing music?’

  Shit. The one question he had no answer for. At least, not one he wanted to reveal to her. ‘I’m taking a break. That’s why I’m here, getting away from that whole scene for a while.’

  ‘Are you taking a break because of what happened at your last concert?’

  Bloody internet. A godsend for promotion but way too revealing. He could hedge around the truth, come up with a lame excuse, but what sort of message would that send? That it was okay to lie?

  ‘Partially,’ he said eventually. ‘It was rough having people die at one of my concerts and I needed to get away for a while.’

  She eyed him with respect and he was glad he’d responded with partial honesty. ‘I read about it online. Must’ve been awful for everyone there.’

  ‘It was.’ He sounded curt and needed a change of subject. ‘Have you listened to any of Rock Hard Place’s songs?’

  ‘A few.’ A cute crinkle appeared between her brows. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Dad, but rock isn’t really my thing.’

  He laughed, releasing the tension he’d been holding since she’d started quizzing him. ‘You’ve already told me you listen to indie, but I bet you like pop too, preferably sung by a boy band.’

  She poked her tongue out at him. ‘It’s called pop for a reason. It’s popular.’

  He held up his hands. ‘Hey, I won’t hold it against you.’

  ‘But it’s cool you’re so famous and lots of people like rock.’

  A fact he was thankful for every day. The band hadn’t looked back once their first album had taken off and everything they’d released after that went platinum. Their last song held the record for the most downloads in the first twenty-four hours of release. Not bad for a bunch of rockers in their mid-thirties competing against every young up-and-comer.

  ‘Yeah, I’m pretty lucky I get paid to do what I love.’

  The moment he uttered the words, he realised how much he missed it: the creative freedom of writing songs; setting the lyrics to music; jamming with his mates. He needed to get out of this funk or risk losing his one great passion.

  ‘I know I’ve already mentioned this but I’d really love to learn the guitar,’ she said, looking at him with so much blatant adoration he had a hard time not reaching out to hug her. ‘Can we start now?’

  Hell no, not when he hadn’t had the guts to pick up the instrument since he’d arrived. But the longer Isla stared at him with hope and adoration, the harder it would be to fob her off. Besides, hadn’t he just said how lucky he was to have a dream job, a job he had no hope of returning to if he didn’t take baby steps to confront his demons? And what better motivation to pick up a guitar again than teaching his daughter?

  ‘Okay.’

  Did she hear the angst in those two syllables? The fear? The reluctance? Considering how she practically leapt off the stool and raced to the lounge room where Yanni’s guitar was propped in a corner, it was doubtful. He hobbled after her.

  When he entered the room, she already had the guitar propped on her knees, holding it like a natural.

  ‘Have you ever played before?’

  ‘No.’ She strummed her thumb across the strings and the jarring twang did little to dispel his initial assessment: she held the guitar with such ease he knew she’d be a quick learner.

  ‘I asked because you’ve got a great posture,’ he said, dragging a footstool closer and sitting on it in front of her. ‘Firstly, it’s all about finger placement.’

  He had no idea how long he spent showing her the basics, how to tune, guiding her fingers onto certain strings, outlining chords, but when she wanted to take a break to grab a glass of water he was shocked to find dusk had descended. He’d been so immersed in teaching her he hadn’t once panicked about touching the guitar. Either that psych he’d been chatting to was a miracle worker or his daughter’s zest for learning had been a major distraction.

  Whatever the reason, he found himself reaching for the guitar. His hands trembled a little as he settled it on his knee but as he started plucking at the strings, playing the melody from Rock Hard Place’s first hit, a song as natural to him as breathing, he found his nerves settling. He closed his eyes and let the notes flow, one into another, a flawless transition from the fear holding him back to reawakening his soul. The music soothed him as much as the feel of the guitar in his hands, his fingertips sliding over the strings with innate memory. Comforting.

  When he played the last note, loud applause rang out and he opened his eyes to find Isla kneeling in front of him, wonder in her eyes.

  ‘Wow, Dad, you’re amazing. You’re so much better than those videos I watched online.’

  ‘Thanks, kiddo.’ He managed to smile through the sting of tears. ‘Your mum should be home soon. Should we make some dinner so she doesn’t have to?’

  ‘Okay.’ Isla stood and headed for the kitchen, leaving him battling the urge to cry.

  What was it about this kid that cut straight to his core?

  CHAPTER

  26

  Tash had been deluded thinking her parents might’ve mellowed with time. They hadn’t reached out in thirteen years so she should’ve known nothing she said now would make a difference. She thought she’d got over their callousness years ago, deliberately steeling her heart. But seeing her dad reopened old wounds and the hurt poured in, stinging in a way she hadn’t anticipated. So the last thing she felt like doing now was having dinner with Isla and Kody. But when she’d seen Isla’s enthusiastic text before she’d left High Ridge, she didn’t have the heart to say no. At least with Isla there the evening couldn’t end like the last time she saw Kody, with her sobbing in his arms. That hadn’t been one of her finer moments so she’d avoided him all week. Childish, maybe, but having him hold her and comfort her resurrected too many feelings she preferred remained buried.

  He’d always been great at hugs, damn him. Every time he’d come off stage at the Princeton he’d hug her tight, like performing had been irrelevant and his entire focus was her. She’d revelled in the attention and had occasionally preened when she’d seen the envious glances cast her way by groupies. Kody had been her man and he’d never given her any reason to doubt him. Which made her wonder, not for the first time, how much of a disservice had she done him by removing his choice to be a parent?

  Weary to her bones, she stopped at the bakery to pick up dessert. One of Betty’s chocolate mousse cakes and rhubarb crumbles would hit the spot. Loads of sugar, perfect comfort food. Kody had a wicked sweet tooth when they’d dated in Melbourne, back when they’d been young and blessed with the fast metabolism of youth. Lucky, because Kody insisted on visiting every gelateria in the city. It had been their thing on the weekends when she didn’t have classes: late nights at his gigs; rushing back to his apartment because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other; sleeping in late then strolling along Acland Street or Brunswick Street or one of the many Melbourne laneways to sample ice-cream. He’d been a rum’n’raisin or pistachio kind of guy, she was mint choc-chip or boysenberry swirl all the way. Not that it mattered which flavour they chose because they’d end up tasting each other’s.

  As she drove along Wattle Lane and spotted the lights on at Kody’s, a pang of longing shot through her. What would it be like to come home to him every night, into his welcoming arms, with their daughter happy to have her parents cohabiting? An outlandish dream considering his lifestyle, but it was nice to fantasise for a moment.

  Parking under the carport, she killed the engine and got out, balancing the desserts carefully. She’d cried enough tears after seeing her dad, no point risking more over mangled desserts if she dropped them. She’d made it halfway to the back door when it flung open and Isla ran out.

  ‘Hey, Mum, what have you got there?’

  Tash forced a smile. ‘I swear you can sniff out Betty’s creations a kilome
tre away.’

  Isla called out, ‘Told you she’d bring dessert,’ before relieving Tash of the mousse cake.

  ‘You know me that well, huh?’

  ‘Duh.’ Isla rolled her eyes, her smile radiant, and Tash knew spending time with Kody had a lot to do with that.

  They had a great relationship and Tash counted herself lucky to have a daughter who liked to hug or chat with her. But Isla had been distant the last week and Tash knew why: she’d put her foot down about Isla trying to squeeze in evenings with Kody during the school week. It had been a decision purely based on concern for her daughter because she didn’t want her falling behind in her studies, but Isla still viewed her as the bad guy.

  Tash hated feeling like an ogre but it was her responsibility to be the voice of reason in this whole unexpected scenario. She was prepared to be lenient to a certain degree but she didn’t want Kody getting the wrong idea: that once he left he’d have this same freedom of access to his daughter. Bad enough he’d be seen as the entertaining parent, taking Isla on grand adventures around the world. Tash had no hope of emulating that and she suspected Isla would want to spend more time with her cool dad. They’d have to draw up some kind of custody agreement to formalise coparenting arrangements and while the thought of not seeing Isla for a day let alone a week when it was Kody’s turn for access turned her stomach, she knew it had to be done.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’

  Tash blinked and shoved her thoughts aside, annoyed she’d started dwelling on stressful stuff again. ‘Long day, sweetie,’ she said, falling into step beside her daughter.

  ‘Hope you’re hungry, because we made pasta and salad.’

  Isla bounced ahead of Tash and through the back door, oblivious to how that ‘we’ sent a stab of fear through her mother. It would be the first of many and logically Tash accepted that, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.

  Bracing for a dinner filled with polite small talk and faux cheer, Tash stepped into the kitchen. She caught sight of Kody at the dining table dressing the salad and her sedate pulse immediately kicked. She remembered the normal range from her nursing days, between sixty and eighty beats per minute, and hers usually sat around the seventy-two mark. But she knew if she pressed her fingertips to her opposite wrist now that reading would be in triple figures.

  As if sensing her stare, Kody raised his head and their eyes locked. And just like that her pulse shot from racing to catastrophic. He flashed her a tentative smile and she returned it, not surprised by their newfound shyness. He’d revealed a lot of himself last week and she wondered if he regretted it. She may have been avoiding him the last seven days but he’d done the same, which spoke volumes.

  ‘I brought dessert,’ she said, brandishing the crumble in her hands to break the deadlock between them.

  ‘Great, thanks.’ He was still hobbling but he moved with more ease than previously. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Rhubarb crumble,’ Tash said, as Isla added, ‘Chocolate mousse cake.’

  ‘I’ll have a double helping of both.’ Kody smacked his lips and Isla laughed.

  ‘You’ll have to fight me for it, Dad,’ she said, completely oblivious of the impact that one little label had on him.

  But Tash saw it: the way his shoulders straightened a tad; the goofy softening of his mouth; the tenderness in his eyes.

  He must’ve caught her staring at him because he mouthed, Are you okay?

  She nodded, hating how astute he was but appreciating his intuition at the same time. He’d always been attuned to her moods, knowing when she had an exam coming up and her stress levels shot through the stratosphere, knowing when she needed to take a break, knowing when she wanted to lose herself in him.

  The only time he hadn’t guessed what she was thinking was when she’d revealed her pregnancy to him. A small part of her resented him for that. For a guy who could usually read her so easily, who’d spent countless evenings in her arms, who’d whispered shared confidences during the nights, the speed with which he believed her lie left her relieved yet disappointed. She’d wanted to drive him away, and she’d succeeded, but she’d assumed he knew her better than that.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Isla said, taking a seat between them and reaching for the bowl filled with steaming pasta. ‘We kept it simple, Mum. Olive oil, garlic, bacon, sundried tomatoes.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Tash held out her plate and Isla ladled a large serve of penne onto it, then some salad. She watched her do the same for Kody, inordinately proud of her daughter, who politely served her parents first. At home, they often had informal dinners curled up on the couch, cradling bowls of risotto or pasta while watching their favourite reality show. Tash knew the experts would frown upon that, citing family dinners should always be at a table. But Tash loved those nights on the couch and from what she could see, Isla had turned out just fine.

  She stabbed at the penne and forked it into her mouth. Her appetite had fled around the time her father had yelled at her, but she’d have to make some show of eating to avoid an interrogation.

  ‘I’m auditioning for a play at school,’ Isla said. ‘The drama teacher wanted us to do Macbeth or Romeo and Juliet, but our class said we want to write our own.’

  Kody’s eyebrows shot up, pride shining in his eyes. ‘That’s a big undertaking.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Isla shrugged. ‘But we want to ditch the usual and do something different.’

  ‘Is it a musical?’

  Isla rolled her eyes. ‘Everything doesn’t revolve around music, Dad.’

  ‘Yeah, it does,’ he said, and as they laughed, Tash felt more of an outsider than ever. Stupid to feel jealous when she’d had Isla all to herself for twelve years.

  Sensing her discomfort, Kody shot her a concerned glance. As their gazes locked, her disquiet gave way to something else as heat filtered through her body like slow-moving lava. She clenched her thighs to stop herself from squirming under his intense gaze, wanting to break the deadlock but unable to look away.

  ‘Coach says I should keep training so I can slot back into the netball team when my suspension is over,’ Isla said, oblivious to the tension simmering between her parents. ‘Pretty stupid though, training on my own, and I told her so.’

  That caught Tash’s attention and she turned to her daughter. ‘Why would you do that?’

  Isla’s lips compressed in a mutinous line and she gave a slight shake of her head.

  Kody opened his mouth but before he could say anything Tash jumped in. ‘Isla, I asked you a question.’

  Isla’s fork hit her plate with a clatter as she glared at her. ‘Because I was mad at you, okay? It was a few days after you told me about Dad and I was angry you’d kept him from me and everything was topsy-turvy.’

  Tash’s heart sank. She’d been afraid of this, Isla bottling up her anger then letting it spill out. And as her daughter slouched in her chair, arms folded and looking anywhere but at her, she wondered if she’d been fooling herself by believing things would ever be the same between them again.

  Kody shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘What did the coach say after that?’

  Tash watched her daughter revert to normal as she looked at Kody with open adoration.

  ‘She told me off and extended my suspension for a week. Harsh, but I guess I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. I get it now.’

  Tash swallowed, hating that Isla had taken so long to reveal this, hoping when she spoke her voice wouldn’t reveal how damn miserable she felt at causing her daughter so much angst. ‘Did you apologise?’

  Isla nodded. ‘Anyway, can we forget about it? I’m not mad anymore, Mum, and I’d really like dessert now.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Tash said, eager to escape the table and Kody’s all-seeing stare. Did he blame her for causing their daughter pain as much as she blamed herself? Did he know how truly crappy she felt?

  As she sliced the cake and stuck a spoon into the crumble, she let Isla and Kody’s chatter wash over her. T
hey were so at ease with one another, so incredibly comfortable after knowing each other such a short time.

  ‘When can I have another guitar lesson, Dad?’

  Tash stilled. Isla’s innocuous question reinforced the yawning gap between them and the close relationship her daughter had quickly built with Kody. The last time they were together he’d told her about being unable to touch a guitar let alone face anything to do with music, so for him to teach Isla how to play he’d undergone a massive shift. Had he sought professional help? Had he come to terms with the concert accident? She hoped so, because the world didn’t deserve to be deprived of his talent. No other rock star had a voice like Kody’s: deep, powerful, raw, with an underlying guttural edge that never failed to send a shiver down her spine. After he’d first approached her that fateful night at the pub, she’d been mesmerised by his voice and the bad boy on stage.

  ‘How about you check your study schedule and get back to me?’ He pointed at his walking boot. ‘Because I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Okay.’ Isla swivelled on her seat to face her. ‘Dessert ready, Mum?’

  Tash quashed her feelings of being left out and nodded. ‘Sure is.’

  Tash placed the cake and crumble in the middle of the table, followed by bowls and spoons. When she passed Kody’s chair, she resisted the urge to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze to indicate she understood how huge teaching Isla guitar was for him. Instead, she resumed her seat and forced a chuckle as Isla and Kody tried to outdo each other in fitting the biggest spoonful of dessert into their mouths.

  After finishing her tiny serve of chocolate mousse cake—turns out a sugar hit didn’t ease the hurt inflicted by her father or the feeling of being ostracised in this pseudo family of three—she sent a pointed glance at the clock on a nearby wall. ‘Isla, do you have homework to do?’

  Isla rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Hey, kiddo, the more homework you get done every night, the more time you’ll have to practise.’