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My mouth fell open and I pressed my hand to my chest as Tucker’s mom did something freakily similar inside his waiting room.
Then she shook her head sadly and said, “Tucker Rawlings Holt, is that what this is about? The money?”
Cringing, he turned back to face her. “Even you have to admit it’d be useful. I saw the notices in the mail, Mama, I’m not stupid. Just how far behind are we on the bills?”
Refusing to answer, his mom shook her head and lifted a hand. “That is not your concern, baby. I will take care of any money issues in our house. You are not to worry yourself with—”
“Not my concern?” Tucker cut in incredulously. “How can you say that to me? Ever since Dad left, abandoning us, you’ve said it was just the two of us, you and me in this together against the rest of the world. That sounds a lot like it should be my concern.”
“Yes, but I meant it’d be just the two of us emotionally, not—”
“Well, now I have a chance to maybe help out financially, so I’m going to…if I can.”
“But you should use that money to save for college or—”
“I’m already planning on taking out student loans for college, Mama.” Grasping her shoulders, he smiled at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But we need this money now, so I’m going to win it. For you.”
Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head and covered her mouth. “I don’t know what I did to ever deserve a boy as amazing as you, but God blessed me when he sent you to me. He sure did. Here, baby. I want you to take my lucky penny.”
As she held it out to him, I turned away and retreated to my own room, feeli
ng… I’m not even sure what I felt. But it was strange and foreign and big. At least the sensation filled my chest as if it were something major.
I sat in the chair in my room numbly, saying nothing, doing nothing, just…thinking.
I had something to prove tonight. I wanted to show the world I could do this without the Asher and Remy Hart or Non-Castrato name. This was supposed to be my origin story, dammit. How dare Tucker Holt come along with a nobler, less selfish motive than mine?
Gah, he ruined everything.
When someone tapped on my door, letting me know I was up next, I grabbed my guitar silently and followed the organizer backstage where, big surprise, Tucker was in the middle of playing, taking his turn right before me.
I peeked at him from the side of the stage, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on a single stool under the spotlight, his cowboy hat tipped down as he focused on his fingers that strummed the guitar. He played Garth Brooks’ “The Dance,” and he did it beautifully. Pride swelled in my chest. He didn’t make a single mistake. There were a couple points in the chorus where he could’ve been stronger, but for all accounts and purposes, he nailed it.
When he finished, the crowd cheered, and his smile looked a little dazed and overwhelmed as he waved and bowed for them.
Then he swiveled in my direction where I was waiting just offstage to take my turn. He started to exit, only to slow when his gaze met mine. Then his jaw tensed, he picked up his pace again, and nodded solemnly as he passed by.
Drawing in a breath when the coordinator waved me forward, I glanced back at Tucker’s retreating back before I spun around and strode before the crowd.
This was my night, dammit.
I greeted everyone pleasantly and took a few moments to get my gear into position before moving to the mike and hovering my fingers over the strings.
Then I exhaled and dove in, playing hard and confident from the get-go. Everything felt right; I had this competition in the bag. My voice was in perfect shape, and the notes flowed from my fingers like art.
I was nearing the first chorus when I glanced over toward the sidelines and saw him in the shadows, watching me, devastation lining his features.
He knew he couldn’t beat me.
Heart rate kicking up, I faced the crowd again and missed a note, my voice going flat and then hoarse.
I swallowed and returned to the song, only to botch another note a few lines later. But I kept on. Another mistake later, I could even see from the faces in the crowd that I was done and out of the running for first place. So I finished just as strongly and confidently as I’d started, smiling at everyone and nodding my thanks when they applauded, not as heartily as they had for Tucker, but still with impressive excitement.
When I turned to exit the stage, Tucker was gone, thank God, because I wasn’t sure if I could face him right then or not.
Returning to my room, I sat in silence, at peace with what I’d done. I could always make my start some other day. This definitely wasn’t the end for me.
Once the competition was over and all the contestants were brought onto the stage to announce the finalists, I was actually surprised when I made it into the top five, along with Tucker and the dancer I’d seen getting ready with her mom in the bathroom. But it wasn’t until they called his name as the winner that I finally released a relieved breath.
