Our Kind of Love by Kait Nolan

Chapter 11

“Kyle, this is Rayna Dunham from Quicksilver Entertainment. The final numbers for the tour are in, and they are fantastic. We want to talk about contracts for your next albums. Between you and me, I think your next one will go platinum! Give me a call back and let us know when we can expect previews of what’s coming next.”

Kyle listened to the voicemail once more. He kept expecting to feel something at the knowledge that his label was so happy with him. This was what he’d been working toward. The reason he’d endured six months on the road with Mercy Lee and all her diva tendencies. The motivation for every single time he’d listened to Davis instead of his own gut over the last ten years. Rayna had said albums, plural. They didn’t make those kinds of offers to artists they didn’t think could have major star power. But all he felt was a vague anxiety and a strong desire to hole up somewhere without a way for them to contact him.

At least Davis wasn’t around to make the decision for him. Kyle knew he should probably do something about replacing his manager, but that could wait.

Abbey opened the passenger-side door and hopped in. “I swear, those old men like to gossip as much as teenage girls. Before I left, Granddaddy was already asking Norm how his campaign to talk Estelle Murchison into marrying him was going.”

Kyle slid the phone back into his pocket. “You do realize the entire point of poker games is for men to gossip over something that seems like a manly activity, right?”

“I’m getting that gist. Let’s get on to the inn. I’m starving.”

They made the short drive to the edge of town and down the winding, tree-lined drive that led to the three-story Victorian where Kyle had spent his teen years. Everything was different since Joan had died. Not that he’d been home for years before that. The girls had come back together, opened the inn, built the spa. They’d made a good place here, good lives. The house still held the comfort Joan had imbued it with, even if there was an extra layer of polish.

At the front door, Kyle hesitated. He no longer felt as if he had the right to just walk into this house where he used to live. These people had once been family. In Joan’s world, they still were because chosen family stuck, and all those who’d gone through her home chose the family she’d offered. But he’d cut almost everybody off, aside from the handful of his other foster siblings who’d pursued life outside Eden’s Ridge, and he hadn’t come home, hadn’t really responded to the overtures his sisters had made through the years. Abbey hadn’t been the only one he’d hurt. He’d have to atone for that.

Abbey stroked a hand down his arm, lacing her fingers with his. “They won’t bite.”

“You sure?”

“Okay, much,” she amended with a grin. She was the one who opened the door, dragging him inside and straight back toward the kitchen, where something smelled amazing.

Mealtimes here had always felt a little like a party. Joan had never been happier than when her long table was filled with her kids and their friends. Now those kids had kids of their own. Wasn’t that a helluva thing? All his sisters and their spouses were present, wrangling their offspring. Griff was in one corner, chatting with Porter and Xander as they tossed two giggling babies from one person to the next. The din of conversation was ferocious and made him smile. At least until it died off at the sight of him.

Kyle braced himself. They’d been pissed at him for hurting Abbey, and definitely didn’t approve of the fake engagement. How were they going to respond to the idea that he and Abbey were together for real? Would they even believe it?

Ari was the one who broke the silence with a fist pump. “I had less than a week in the pool.”

Somebody groaned, “Dang it.”

“The pool on what?” Kyle asked warily.

“On how long it would take a fake relationship to turn real.” Her grin turned delighted. “Somebody else has my bathroom cleaning duty. Thanks for that.”

Kyle had no idea what to say to that. “You’re… welcome?”

Abbey laughed. “You’ll get used to it. She opines about everybody’s relationships.”

“I’m usually right.”

“Smug isn’t a good look on you, sweetheart,” Pru admonished.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re all waiting for her to bring a guy home. She will absolutely reap what she’s sown.”

At Athena’s promise, Ari’s face went a little pale.

Kennedy smirked. “Two words: Cullen. Walker.”

“Shut up!” Ari hissed.

“I’m just sayin’.”

The two boys, who Kyle pegged as somewhere around ten and twelve, began to snicker.

“Dylan, Jesse, be careful who you tease. Retribution is a thing,” Athena warned.

“Yes, Mom,” they chorused.

He relaxed as the ribbing and razzing shifted into an old, familiar rhythm. This was home. It was welcome. One he wasn’t sure he deserved but wouldn’t take for granted.

Hands were washed. Wee ones were tucked into highchairs. Platters and bowls were carried to the table. Kyle found himself seated between Abbey and Dylan, Athena’s eldest.

Once plates were filled, Kennedy raised a glass. “To Abbey and Kyle. Here’s to clearing the air and bringing him back to the fold. Welcome home, brother.”

A chorus of cheers circled the table. As they died down, Ari went chin in hands. “Well, I personally want to hear all about the tour. Was it fabulous? The lights? The crowds? Getting to see all those different places?”

“I hate to burst your bubble, kid, but touring is grueling. You’re never in one place for more than a day or two, and never long enough to really take in the sights. It’s this constant cycle of on the go. Don’t get me wrong—the fans are great. Sharing my music is great. But the realities of touring are a very long way from fabulous.”

“Understatement of the century,” Griff muttered. “I thought the Marines could be a grind. I mean, not that it wasn’t, but at least I got to drive cool vehicles and shoot big guns.”

“You did, at least, have the benefit of not getting shot at on the road with me.”

“Fair point,” Griff conceded.

“I prefer my way,” Flynn reflected. “I never had the fame, but I didn’t want it. Not really.”

Kyle’s interest piqued as he studied Pru’s husband. “You’re a musician?”

“Oh, to be sure. Irish folk music mainly. I played my way through Ireland and across much of Europe, seeing a big chunk of the world on my own terms. It’s part of how Kennedy and I met. I played a pub where she was tending bar. As she’s a fine voice and a traveler’s spirit, by week’s end, she’d joined the band and gone with us as we made our way around Ireland.”

“Ah, those were the days. And just think… if I hadn’t done that, we never would’ve become friends, you wouldn’t have come to visit me after I moved home, you wouldn’t have met Pru, and we wouldn’t have this little munchkin.” Kennedy tweaked Bailey’s button nose.

Bailey giggled.

“Do you miss it?”

“Oh, I keep my hand in. We host a weekly Jam Night here at the inn during the summers. And during cooler weather, we relocate to the Artisan’s Guild.”

“Jam Night?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Musicians from all over show up and just play and sing,” Kennedy explained. “There have been some really interesting collaborations to come out of it. It’s turned into a way bigger crowd than we’d initially anticipated, so there are folks who sell refreshments as fundraisers, but other than that it’s all about the music for the joy of it.”

Music simply for the joy of it? That sounded like heaven. “When’s the next one?”

Maggie readjusted Faith in her baby sling. “Tomorrow, as it happens. Out at the Artisan Guild.”

“Count me in. I love smaller venues.” It would be nice to soak up some of the energy from musicians who just wanted to play.

Jesse eyed him dubiously. “Really? Aren’t the big crowds and lights and stuff better?”

“I can and have done the big stadium shows. They’re a rush for sure, and certainly there’s more money there, which makes the label happy. But it also means that’s all there is to my life. One of touring constantly, one show after another, until you get so mixed up, somebody has to write the name of the city on your hand, so you don’t accidentally call out the wrong one at the start of the show. It’s not conducive to creativity or creating new music.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes, considering. “If you can’t write new music, how do you get another album to tour for?”

“An excellent question. Some musicians don’t write their own music. They perform songs other folks wrote. My last album had a few of those on it because I just… couldn’t produce under those conditions. And I hated it. They were perfectly good songs, but they weren’t mine. So I’m not doing that again. Which is why I’m dodging calls from my label. Partly, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be the first of us to hide from a problem here.” With a wry smile, Athena lifted her glass.

“Or find the answer,” Maggie added. “What are you still committed to with your current label?”

“Nothing, actually. I haven’t signed another contract with them yet, but after this last tour, they’re talking a multi-album deal.”

“Kyle, that’s amazing,” Pru exclaimed. “It’s what you always wanted.”

It had been. He’d left Eden’s Ridge with an idea of not only making something of himself, but literally making himself over. Getting away from the bad parts of where he’d come from, who he’d believed he was. He’d done it with considerable success. But he’d also lost so much along the way. Family, friends, and the woman he loved.

Beside him, Abbey had gone still and stiff. And why shouldn’t she? He’d just mentioned a multi-album deal. That meant more of those back-to-back tours that would take him away from her. He thought of what Davis had said. Would all the sacrifices your career demanded have been too much?

Kyle didn’t want to think the man had been onto something. But he couldn’t deny that nothing about the life he’d been living was conducive to a healthy relationship. It wasn’t conducive to anything but a healthy bank account, and there was more to life than that.

“I don’t know if I want it. Not at the terms I know they’ll offer.” There was something freeing about admitting it out loud, especially as he heard Abbey’s slow, controlled exhale. They’d have things to discuss. But later, without the massive family audience.

Maggie’s gaze turned speculative. “What kind of terms are you wanting?”

“More down time. The opportunity and space to create again. More stylistic freedom. And the chance to actually have a family and personal life. A home. I’ve done the last decade without it, and I don’t want to keep going down that road.” He curled his fingers around Abbey’s beneath the table, needing her to understand the truth of this.

“You don’t think they’ll go for that?” Kennedy asked.

“Well, I fired my manager, so I don’t presently have anyone to negotiate for me.”

“So get a new manager.”

Ari’s tone of duh had Kyle huffing a laugh. “It’s not quite that simple. And either way, I’ve been tied up with things here.”

Abbey spoke for the first time since the discussion began. “You’re writing again since you came home.”

Kyle met those big, dark eyes. “It seems I have a lot to say.”

A smile fluttered at the corners of her mouth. “Then keep writing. Your music will give you more power at the negotiation table. If they want it, they’ll wait. And if they don’t, there will be others who do. You have the reputation to demand what you want now. So use it to build the life you want. Don’t just accept the one someone else has forced on you.”

After years of feeling like he had to bow to the whims of others, as he looked into Abbey’s eyes, he finally felt like maybe she was right, and he could write his own future.

* * *

“Aren’tyou coming to bed, Ruthie?” Granddaddy had been cheerfully convinced Abbey was her grandmother since they’d picked him up from the poker game, probably because of all that talk of love and marriage and Norm’s campaign to woo Estelle.

Heart squeezing, Abbey tucked him in, smoothing the covers over his frail body. “Not just yet. I want to do one of my puzzles first.” She thanked God for her grandmother’s lifelong addiction to crossword puzzles before bed.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” She bent and pressed a kiss to his brow, wanting to do what she could to soothe him and hoping he’d slide on in to sleep without remembering Grandma Ruth wasn’t really here. “I love you, Roy.”

“Love you, too, Ruthie girl.”

Abbey switched off the lamp and quietly shut the door behind her.

Kyle was outside on the front porch, quietly picking out a melody on his guitar with the kind of stop-start rhythm that told her he was tinkering with a new song. His fingers didn’t stop as she stepped out, and she found her head bobbing with the melody.

“He settle okay?”

“I think so. I’ll check on him in a little while.” Crossing to the railing, she leaned her shoulder against it and rubbed at the ache in her chest. “I think this is sometimes the hardest part of his condition, when he thinks I’m her and forgets she’s been gone for eight years. He loved her so much, for so many years. And then his mind kicks back in, and he remembers… it’s like watching him lose her all over again. I’m hoping he’ll fall asleep before he hits that point tonight.”

Kyle set his guitar aside. “Come here.”

Needing the comfort, she slid into his lap, snuggling in. His arms came around her, and the ache relaxed a bit.

“Your grandparents were the greatest model for me for what I wanted in a relationship. Your parents, too. But what Granddaddy had with Grandma Ruth was just special.”

“Yeah.” Growing up around them, it had been hard not to use that relationship as the yardstick for everything. Was it any wonder the few others she’d tried had been lacking?

“I always thought we were like them,” he admitted. “God knew, I wanted to be.”

“So did I.” Abbey pressed her cheek to the scruff of his. “You never thought you deserved me.”

“I got told that often enough by my parents.”

Abbey growled. “I hate your parents. For so very many reasons.”

“Me, too.”

Remembering the news Xander had passed on before she left the inn, she bit her lip. “I did a thing. You might be pissed about it.”

“What did you do?” His tone indicated he wasn’t worried about whatever it was.

“I had Xander check on your parents.”

He stiffened for a moment, then let out a slow breath. “I probably should have asked myself.”

Straightening, she curved a hand around his nape, as if that would somehow make the conversation easier. “I know you don’t want to think about it, but forewarned is forearmed.”

“True enough. What did he find out?”

“Your dad isn’t getting out any time soon. He’s had some behavioral issues inside that added time to his sentence. Your mom was released three weeks ago and is currently living in a halfway house in Nashville. He’s keeping in touch with her parole officer.”

He nodded and blew out another breath. “Okay. Thanks for finding out. At least it’s just her I have to worry about.”

“We. You’re not in this alone.” She’d keep reminding him until he believed it.

Eyes searching her face, he leaned forward to kiss her temple. “I love you, Abbey.”

Her heart swelled. They’d always been affectionate, always said I love you. It had been important to her and her family that he knew it growing up because he sure as hell wasn’t getting it at home. But it was different, knowing this wasn’t simply friendship. This was what she used to call the big L kind of love. Different and terrifying.

“Did you mean what you said? About not wanting the big contracts?” She hadn’t meant to say it. But it had been on her mind since dinner. They’d only just found their way back to each other, and this was the thing that could rip him away from her again.

If he was perturbed by the question, he didn’t show it. “I’d love the distribution and support. But, if I agree to a multi-album deal, they own me until I deliver on all of them. The cage will be more gilded, but it’s still a cage. I don’t want that. More, I don’t want you to have to deal with that. Nothing about that life would be fair to you.”

Abbey didn’t disagree. And yet… “I don’t want you giving up your dreams for me.” She hesitated before voicing the truth that had been kicking around her brain. “I think maybe you would have if we’d gotten married back when.” Because she wouldn’t have been able to stand it, him being gone all the time. And life on the road simply wouldn’t have been an option for her.

Kyle traced a finger along her brow, down her cheek. “Dreams change. When I was here as a kid, all I wanted was to go. When I left, all I could dream about was you. This chance with you is my dream, and I’m not willing to give it up for anything.”

Her heart rolled over in her chest. “Kyle.”

So long ago, she’d locked away her dreams of a life with him. As she pressed her lips to his, the lid cracked open and those hopes and fantasies crept out, reaching for him. A part of her wanted to pull them back, tuck them away again where they’d be safe. But where had that gotten her? Cut off from her best friend and the love of her life for a decade? Wasn’t it better to be brave and reach for what she’d always wanted? He was worth the risk. And she owed it to both of them to believe in him and them.

Easing back, she pressed her brow to his. “How are we going to make this work?”

“I don’t know. But a wise woman told me the power is in my hands. I just have to use it.” He kneaded her nape with strong fingers. “No one ever believed in me like you do.”

If she’d so fully believed in him, would they have spent the past ten years not talking? Shoving away the guilt, she kept her tone light. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“I like how you see it.”

Relaxing into him again, she tipped her head to his shoulder. “If you could build exactly the career you wanted, what would it look like?”

“More small venues. Intimate shows, without all the glitz and glam, where the focus is on the music, not the production value. Nothing but my own music. Time and space to write it. And I’d like to have time to give back to at-risk kids. I would have turned out a lot different without your family. Without Joan. I want to be able to do that without my label wanting to make it a publicity stunt.”

“None of that seems like too big an ask.” It wasn’t about more money or more fame. That had never been what drove him.

“We’ll see, I guess.” He shifted his fingers from her nape to her shoulder, kneading the knots that seemed like permanent residents there. “What about you? What do you want?”

What did she want? When was the last time anyone had asked her that?

“I don’t know. Moving back home was never the plan. But my parents needed help, and I certainly don’t begrudge them that. I’m grateful to get this extra time with Granddaddy. Plus, coming back to the Ridge and opening the spa has been great. I love what we’ve built there, and I get to work with my best friends every day. I’m happy here in a way I didn’t think I’d be. But I guess I want the chance for more room for me. I’m not used to thinking about that anymore.”

“You never were. You always put others first. I can’t remember a single time you were selfish that didn’t involve eating all the strawberry Sour Patch Kids.”

She laughed and trailed her fingers down his chest, enjoying his shiver at her touch. “I’m feeling selfish with you. I don’t want to share you. And I’m sorry we’ve had all these other responsibilities and the lack of privacy.”

“I like being able to help. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve been thinking about getting you naked again.”

At his words, her thighs went loose, and heat pooled low in her belly. “I want you in my bed.”

His eyes lit with mischief and an erotic intent. “Can you be quiet?”

“Once Granddaddy takes his hearing aids out, he wouldn’t hear a nuclear bomb.”

“Do we know he’s asleep?”

“One way to find out.”

Abbey slid off his lap, taking his hand and leading him inside. They heard the snoring from Granddaddy’s room before they’d made it two steps into the house. Even so, they crept upstairs. There was something deliciously forbidden about dragging him up to her childhood bedroom. She instinctively avoided the squeaky steps and floorboards on the way. Not that she’d have been able to hear them over the thrumming of her own heartbeat.

Kyle was the one who shut and locked the door behind them. “Gotta admit, it’s a little weird, the idea of being with you here.”

Understanding, she linked her arms around his neck. “At least I don’t still have my poster of Aragorn smoldering at us from the ceiling.” She hadn’t made that many more adjustments to the space since moving home. New bedding, an extra bookcase. But her trim little laptop sat on the same desk where she’d done homework for school, and the window seat where she and Kyle had wedged themselves in to talk of anything and everything still had the same plaid cushion.

He stroked his hands down her torso. “I know they’re on a cruise, but there’s a part of me that’s still paranoid your dad will come barging in with a shotgun.”

Abbey laughed. “There shall be no parental interruptus, and that’s not Dad’s style, anyway.”

Kyle grimaced. “Maybe let’s stop talking about your parents.”

“Maybe let’s stop talking at all.” She tipped her face up to his and proved she could stay quiet after all.