Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Will

The familiar sound of buzzing tattoo machines fills the air as I try to finish the earnings statement I’m working on. It doesn’t help my concentration much that my asshole employees keep interrupting. Or that my phone keeps dinging with incoming texts I feel too guilty to ignore.

There’s been a lot of tension with my family since the trip. I’ve only spoken to my mom a few times, cutting those calls short as soon as she brought up my dad and what a hard time he’s having with my silence. His calls I flat out refuse to answer at all. I just…I can’t.

But I won’t let any of that shit affect my relationship with my cousins or siblings. I need them all to know that I’m always here for them, no matter what.

I can’t go and visit them, because that would require seeing their parents. So that means my option for now is to stay active on our group text thread. Even if it drives me crazy the way they all seem to be tip-toeing around me since the trip.

There are a lot more texts than usual today, seeing as how it’s a pretty important anniversary in our family. I pick up my phone when it dings again, expecting to see another message about Lyric, but this text is not in the group—this one comes in directly from my best friend.

Rose:I’m starting to forget what you look like.

I bite back a groan. I haven’t been home much in the last few weeks. I’ve been putting in extra hours at the shop, trying my damnedest to get this loan thing taken care of. Most of my free time is spent with Eva, usually at her place. I told River it was easier for her to get to her PT sessions from Malibu than from our neighborhood, but that’s total bullshit. She only has therapy three times a week and the office is actually slightly closer to our apartment.

The truth is, I don’t want to be at home. I haven’t really talked to either of them since the trip. Even when they came to Eva’s birthday party, I made sure not to end up one-on-one with either of them. Because while it’s annoying that my younger cousins and siblings are treating me like something fragile because of what happened, I know it will be even worse with Rose and River—because they won’t tip-toe around it. They’ll want to talk to me about it and I honestly don’t think I can do that without losing my shit all over again.

So it’s just easier, right now, to keep doing what I’m doing. Work at the shop all day. Spend the evenings with my girl.

Sorry, Rose,I type back. Just busy with work.

I know it’s a lame excuse and I know she won’t buy it. But it’s the best I have right now.

“Hey Will?” Lulu asks, sticking her head through the partially open doorway. “Someone from the bank is on line one.”

“Thanks, Lu.”

When she doesn’t leave right away, I turn in my chair to face her. “Something else?”

She looks sheepish. “Uh, your uncle called. Wanted to know if you had room for an appointment today.”

I feel my spine stiffen. I don’t need to ask which uncle. Today there’s only one person it would be.

“Call him back and tell him I’m booked up,” I say, voice tight.

She frowns. “You don’t want to call him yourself?”

“No.”

She continues to study me, confusion and concern on her face. I gesture at the phone. “I need to take this, Lulu.”

I know my voice is harsher than I would normally use with her, but I’m having trouble keeping it together right now. She gives a short nod and I don’t miss the hurt on her face when she turns to go.

I sigh, promising myself I’ll fix it later, and pick up the phone.

The news from the loan officer, at least, is pretty positive so I feel marginally better when I get off the line. A feeling that is quickly punctured when Quinn comes barging in, throwing himself into the chair across from my desk. I raise my eyebrows.

“Is there something wrong with the break room?”

He smirks. “Nah. Just figured you missed my pretty face.”

“I can assure you I did not.”

Since he’s physically incapable of taking a hint, he relaxes further, swinging his legs up to drop over the arm of the chair. “Why does the bank keep calling?”

I grit my teeth. “Because I’m applying for a loan.”

His eyebrows go high on his forehead. “You expanding?”

“No.”

“Finally hiring an office manager?”

“No.”

He stares at me. I stare right back. Finally he groans. “You’re annoying as fuck to get information out of, you know that?”

“Maybe because it’s not information you need to know.”

He swings his legs back to the floor and leans forward to rest his elbows on my desk. “Seriously, dude, what’s up? Is there some kind of trouble with the shop? Are we not doing as well as I thought?”

Great. The last thing I want is for there to be rumors about the shop’s well-being spreading through the staff.

“I’m just trying to pay off my primary loan, that’s all.”

He gapes at me. “Hang on. Isn’t your primary loan from your uncle?”

I grit my teeth. “Yup.”

“And you want to pay that off. With a bank loan.”

I throw my pen onto the stack of papers on my desk. “Is there a point to this, Quinn?”

“I don’t get it, man! Why in the hell would you pay back a family loan—with next to no interest—with a bank loan? That makes no sense.”

Because I shouldn’t have taken his money in the first place.

“It’s complicated. And if you don’t mind, I have to get back to it.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “Listen, Will,” he finally says, and for once there’s no trace of amusement in his voice. “I really thought you were doing better once you started dating Eva. But this week…I’m worried about you.”

Jesus. I don’t need this from him too.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep from losing my temper. “I appreciate your concern, Quinn. Seriously. You’re a good friend. But everything is fine. There’s some…complicated family stuff I’m trying to deal with. But I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look like he’s buying it but we’re interrupted by Lulu’s voice over the intercom. “Quinn, your two o’clock is here if you’d like to grace us all with your presence,” her dry voice intones.

And there’s the familiar smirk he usually wears. “She tries to deny it, but that girl has the hots for me.”

That gets the first genuine laugh of the day from me. “Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

He pops up from his chair. “Gotta go make the people happy. Try not to stay cooped up in here all day.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Turns out, I’m forced to follow his advice just a half hour later. There’s a knock and I look up to see Lulu in the doorway again, an almost nervous expression on her face.

“Uh, Will? Sorry to interrupt.”

I turn to face her, determined to be less of an asshole than last time. “What’s up?”

She winces. “I called your uncle back, like you asked…”

My stomach twists. “And?”

“He, uh, he’s here.”

My mouth drops open. “He’s here?” I snap. “Are you serious?”

She nods, looking miserable. “Yeah. I told him you were busy but…”

I close my eyes. God damn it.

“Do you want me to tell him you’re with a client?” she asks.

I let out a low sigh. I’m not going to force my employees to deal with my shit. “No. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay. Sorry, Will.”

I shake my head at her. “No need to apologize. Sorry I’m acting like a dick.”

That gets a grin out of her. “What else is new?”

I take a minute to try and calm my anger before following her out to the front of the shop. Sure enough, Lennon is standing at reception, studying a framed photo of a full dragon sleeve, his hands in his pockets, looking as casual as can be.

“What’s up?”

He looks up at the sound of my voice, a gentle smile on his face. “Good to see you too, Will.”

I don’t have the energy to deal with his shit. “Didn’t Lulu tell you I was booked up today?”

“Figured you could make some time for family.”

It’s everything I can do not to roll my eyes like a petulant teenager. Then he drops the kicker. “Especially today.”

I glare at him. “Low blow, dude.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll take whatever advantage I can get.”

I almost want to laugh at that, but I manage to keep it in. “You know where my station is, old man.”

I go to the supply closet and grab a fresh box of gloves and a set of needles then follow him to my station. He has my portfolio out, flipping through the photos, but looks up when I come in, his eyes immediately moving to search my face.

“I hate how you do that, you know,” I say conversationally, and his eyebrows go up in question. “That whole blatantly studying me thing you do. Like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking.”

“Wouldn’t have to try and figure it out if you talked to me more.”

I grunt, going to the table to lay out my supplies. “Think I talked plenty last time we saw each other.”

“That you did.”

We lapse into silence after that and I know he won’t bring it up again. That’s not what he’s here for.

“What’s the word today?”

He pulls up his sleeve and the inked list comes into view. A single word for each year that his daughter Lyric has lived without cancer, tattooed on the anniversary of her remission date. Out of all the brothers, Lennon has the least amount of ink, but he’s adamant about getting these anniversary tattoos.

“I think grace this year,” he murmurs softly and I nod once, feeling a tightness in my throat.

I get started on the piece, adding the word right underneath the one from last year—joy—while he lets the silence settle between us. That’s the nice thing about my Uncle Lennon—he makes quiet very comfortable. There’s no one better to hang out with if you’re need of a little peace. Or, at least, that’s how I used to feel.

“Interesting thing happened yesterday,” he finally says.

“What’s that?”

“I got a check from your shop.”

I grunt, knowing where he’s going with this.

“But you already paid me at the beginning of the month,” he goes on. “And the second check was for nearly double the monthly payment we agreed on.”

“So you’re pissed I’m paying you back faster than we planned?”

“Not pissed,” he says. “Just worried.”

I blow out a breath. “It’s nothing to worry about. I had the extra cash, I sent it along.”

“And what about the bank?”

I still then move the needle away so I don’t fuck up his ink. “The bank?”

“They called me as a reference, wanted to know about the reliability of your payments.”

Shit. I had listed the family loan on my application but I had no idea they would actually call him.

“Why are you trying to get a bank loan, Will?”

Because I don’t want to owe you anything. Don’t want any of you to have a thing you can hold over my head.

“Just thought it was time I took responsibility for my own store,” I say instead. “It’s kind of childish to rely on family for my business.”

“It wasn’t a hand out, Will—though I would have gladly given you the money if you asked. We agreed on terms and you’ve stuck to them. What’s childish about that?”

“I just felt ready to move on, that’s all.”

He doesn’t argue with me about it anymore, but I know he isn’t satisfied. He lets me continue my work, though, and I’m relieved that he’ll be out of here soon.

“She seemed pretty good when I talked to her earlier,” I say after a few minutes, and I don’t need to say Lyric’s name for him to know who I’m talking about.

“Yeah, I think she’s having a good day. You know how annoyed she usually gets if anyone makes a big deal about it.”

I wince, remembering how Eva mentioned to me that it seemed odd how much everyone fussed over Lyric when we were at the farm. Lyric hates to be babied because of her past illness but I think we all have a difficult time fully letting go. I’ll have to be more careful about how I treat her.

But it’s hard. We came so close to losing her.

“She had lunch with me and her mom earlier, “Lennon continues, “and asked to have a sleepover with Silas and Cole, which is about as far as she’ll ever go to acknowledging it’s not just any other day.”

Cole, a kid from the neighborhood, has been best friends with my brother and Lyric since they were still in training wheels. She told me once that they’re the only two people who never treat her like she’s fragile.

“Sounds like a nice day for her,” I say, my voice gruff, and Lennon nods, his attention going back to what I’m doing. I’m almost done with the tattoo.

He waits until I’m cleaning up the equipment before he finally gets around to what I’m sure he’s wanted to say the whole time.

“You know, when I was your age, I was pretty miserable. I did a lot of stupid shit because I felt bad all the time.”

My hands clench around the empty ink pots and I don’t look up, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I could have ruined a lot of things, Will. Our band. My life. My brother’s lives. Could have screwed it all up so bad that I never met Haylee. Never had my kids.” I hear him swallow and his voice is thicker when he continues.

“I could have ruined everything that matters to me. And I would have—that’s the path I was on. I would have, except I started to talk to people. I told my brothers and my dad and your Uncle Levi what was going on with me. I told Haylee. And they helped me, Will. All I had to do was let them in.”

I kind of want to throw the ink pots in his face. How fucking dare he come here, to my shop, in the middle of my work day, and drop all this on me? Like it’s going to magically get easier if I sit down and talk to him? Talk to my dad?

How in the hell am I supposed to do that if I can’t even be in the same room with them without wanting to scream?

If it was just about anyone else in the world, they would have pressed me. Demanded I answer, give them something. But that’s not Lennon’s way. Instead he claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing briefly before releasing me, then walks to the door.

“Thanks for the tattoo, kid. Go visit your mother, she misses you.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me in a shitty mood—not so much different from how I started my day.

The only difference is, there’s a pain in my chest now, too. A pain that doesn’t go away for a long, long time.

* * *

I have sucha hard time concentrating after Lennon leaves that I end up cutting out of work early. I bring some paperwork with me, telling myself I’ll work on it later, but really, I just want to be near Eva. I have a feeling that whatever pain is still lingering in my chest can only be eased by her.

But Eva isn’t alone when I get there. Instead I find her deep in conversation with her manager, that slimy guy I met at her birthday party. I didn’t like the way I had seen him watching her that night. It was the same way he’d looked at her at the gala all those weeks ago—calculating.

“Hey!” she says, face brightening when she sees me. Dennis turns the calculating look on me, before he settles his features into something more neutral.

“Hey. I got off early. Sorry, I didn’t call.”

“Oh, that’s fine. We were just wrapping up.”

Dennis looks like he wants to argue with that assessment, but he keeps his mouth shut, gathering up the papers spread out in front of them on the dining room table.

“So we’ll talk about this more tomorrow,” he says briskly.

“In a few days,” Eva argues. “I need to think about it. And I’d like to talk to my medical team, as well.”

He tries to hide it, but I can see the flash of annoyance on his face before he once again flattens his features. “You know they’re just going to tell you to stick with them. They don’t want to lose your business.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about, but Eva stiffens. “I’m not business, Dennis. I’m a patient.”

He rolls his eyes. “They’re all just after money, sweetheart. And you’re a pretty big meal ticket.”

I hate the way he calls her sweetheart. I hate the condescending tone in his voice. Who the hell is this prick, and why does she put up with him?

“A few days,” she says again, sounding less sure this time. “I’ll call you.”

He taps the folder in his hand. “Don’t wait too long. Time’s already wasting.” His voice is bright but I know I hear an undertone of threat there. I’m relieved when he finally leaves, barely gracing me with a nod as he passes.

Eva jumps up from the table and comes around to hug me, lifting her face to mine for a kiss. “What was that all about?” I ask once I’ve kissed her hello.

“Dennis wants me to switch doctors.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. Eva always talks so highly of the medical team she works with. They’d certainly seemed pretty on top of things when I joined her at PT that day. “What? Why?”

She shrugs. “My doctors are pretty insistent that I’m going to need the hip replaced. Sooner than later. Dennis disagrees.”

A surge of anger goes through me. “Dennis disagrees? Does Dennis have a fucking medical license?”

She frowns at me. “No. He just wanted me to see someone who has an alternate treatment plan. To see what my options are.”

“To keep you from having surgery, you mean. So you can get back to work faster.”

Eva stiffens in my arms then pushes away. “I’m going to have to go back to work eventually, Will.”

At the back of my mind, I had known that would probably happen someday. It’s the reason I was resistant to us in the first place. But as the weeks passed and she showed no sign of getting ready for that possibility—never even talked about it—the worry lessened. It was easy to convince myself she wouldn’t get caught up in that world again.

The fact that she’s talking about it now? That her manager is obviously pushing for it to happen sooner than later? That sends a cold chill through me.

“You shouldn’t go back until you’re ready,” I say in a choked voice, trying to keep the impending fear from knocking me over. “Physically and emotionally.”

“I know that.” She fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt, something she only does when she’s nervous. “But maybe with this new treatment plan, I’ll be closer.”

Closer. Closer to recording, to performing. To going back to all the shit I so strenuously rejected.

I grit my teeth, hard, and manage to get out, “what does Marissa say about the new doctor?”

She looks away. “I haven’t told her.”

“Why the hell not?”

She looks up at my snappish tone, frowning. “Marissa can’t stand Dennis. She’s not going to go for anything he suggests, just on principle.”

I’m starting to think Marissa is pretty damn smart.

“And what was that shit he said about you not talking to your doctors?” I press. “That’s a red flag, Eva.”

“A red flag about what?”

“That he doesn’t have your best interests at heart!” I know I need to calm down—I’m yelling. But I can’t stand the idea of this guy pressuring her. Forcing her into situations that aren’t good for her.

I’ve been down this road before.

When she speaks, it sounds like she’s struggling to keep calm. “You don’t know him, Will. We’ve been together for a long time—”

“I know you aren’t ready to go back to work,” I shoot back.

She watches me for a long moment. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this. It obviously isn’t your favorite subject.”

My fear only grows. The idea of her keeping things from me, things she knows I won’t like—yeah, I’ve been there, too. It didn’t work out so well last time.

It’s everything I can do to keep from blowing up at her. “Will you please promise me that you’ll talk to Marissa before you make any decisions about the doctor?”

She nods. “Sure. I’ll talk to her.”

I release a breath. I’ll just have to trust Marissa to advise her in the safest direction.

But what if she doesn’t?I find myself thinking all through the rest of the night. While we make dinner and watch another episode of Raider and long after Eva has fallen asleep in my arms.

What if Eva doesn’t do the smart thing? What if she gets back into that world, into that life, and everything changes?

I stay awake late into the night, listening to the sounds of her even breathing, too scared to do anything but hold her as tightly as I can.