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“I was really young. So young I barely remember him. He abandoned our family and cut himself off completely. From me, from his brother, Wes, from anything that had to do with this ranch.”
“You think he found out?”
Killian clenched the steering wheel a little tighter and slowed to let the gates open before heading off of Wilde Horse Ranch property and toward the outskirts of Sunrise, where he told me the Silver Spur was.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it had something to do with Wes and my mama, but she never said anything.” The way his voice wavered broke my heart, but instead of doing what I wanted—reach out and grip his shoulder to show him he wasn’t alone—I stayed still as he continued. “I never saw him again after he left. For all I know, he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“So, your last name…it’s been Wilde all this time?”
“Legally, yes. I started using Winter back in high school. I didn’t want to be known as one of the Wilde boys. They had reputations, and I didn’t really want to give the Wilde name any more power.”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
“So, I legally changed it right before we hit it big. Mama wasn’t happy. She said I should always be proud of who I was. But how could I be proud of being an abandoned son?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m the black sheep of one of the biggest families in Sunrise. You know, even before I knew the truth, I was ashamed of my dad. I was embarrassed by the way Wes acted. The guy was…well, imagine every stereotypical soap opera dad. Dramatic, manipulative, evil, selfish.”
“It’s pretty amazing your brothers turned out so well, growing up with a dad like that.”
“Yeah, it is. A lot of that is because of Sutton’s mama. God rest her soul.” He smiled softly, which made something loosen in my chest. “Then there’s Mama Ryker, Sera’s mom.”
“I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”
“No. You will eventually if you’re here long enough.”
That made my stomach twist. The way he said, if you’re here long enough. Because truthfully, I wasn’t going to be here that long. We’d write the song, we’d write a few more, and then we’d part ways.
He sighed and finally relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. “To be honest, this town is the only reason I made it through high school. People here are special.”
“Is it why you ran back home when things went tits up? It’s your safe place?”
“Yeah. Do you have a safe place?” he asked me.
“No. Not really.”
He kept his eyes on the road. But his posture softened a little. “All right, I told you about myself. Tell me what shaped you into the dark and broody problematic rock star you are.”
“I’m not problematic.”
“Sure, that’s what they all say.”
“I grew up in the foster system from the age of five. Spent a lot of time bouncing from house to house. I had severe behavioral issues as a kid. Never got adopted. But my last five years before I aged out, I lived in this house. It was a home for boys. Run by this amazing woman who was a music teacher. She had the biggest heart I’ve ever known. Her name was Kelly. She was this feisty little Irish woman who scared the shit out of all of us. But she loved us more than I could have ever imagined anybody could love me. So one day, she called me into the music room. She’d just finished up teaching piano for the day, and she sat me down and stared me down. She told me, Jameson, you’ve got two ways your life can go. You can make something of yourself, or you can feel sorry for yourself. Which one will it be?”
“That’s the definition of tough love.”
“I think she is the photo reference for that concept on Wikipedia.”
“So, what did you do?”
My stomach clenched at the memory of the moment that changed my entire life. “I looked at her, and I wanted to argue. I was ready to tell her she was wrong, but instead, I broke down crying. So she picked me up off the couch and led me to the piano, then taught me how to play. That woman gave me a piano lesson every day. Then she brought home a guitar for me when she realized my ‘God-given gift,’ as she called it.”
“And what was your God-given gift?”
“I have this thing you might have heard of it. It’s called an eidetic memory. I can see something and remember it perfectly after the first time I see it.”
“Can you really do that? With everything?”
“Yeah, but especially music. I was able to memorize everything she gave me. And with a little practice, my fingers caught up with my brain. I was playing Mozart and Beethoven but also reading charts for popular songs and classic rock. She was the reason Jameson Lorde exists.”
“Was?”
