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Aside from Brayden and the rest of my management team, Mabel and John are the only two people who I’ve told I’m planning to leave music.
“Uh-huh. Is she single?”
So much for dissuading Jamie. I decide it’s better to change topics than to answer, especially since the honest one would beI don’t know.
“Did you finish filling the holes already?”
“Yeah.” Jamie glances at his watch. “I should probably get going. I’ve got practice in an hour.”
I jerk my chin toward the driveway. “Get out of here.”
“You sure? I can stay a little longer.”
“I’m sure. You’ve done enough already. Focus on football and your future.”
Jamie rolls his eyes, which is exactly what I would have done at seventeen. “I can come back again before practice tomorrow. To help with that.” He nods his chin in the direction of the house.
I follow his gaze. “Why does no one think I can handle the roof?”
“I dunno. Maybe because you’ve never reshingled a roof before?”
“The roof is under control,” I tell him. “Get to practice.”
“Yes, sir.” Jamie mock-salutes me. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week? Wha—” I realize the answer to my question midway. “The fair. Right.”
“Mandatory setup.” Jamie grimaces. “Looking forward to seeing you perform, man.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, then hang the hammer on the fence so I can start cleaning up. “Thanks.”
Jamie grins before heading for his truck, totally oblivious to my apprehension about the event.
I mark the rails that are rotted and still need to be replaced, then move the ones we already took care of to the growing junk pile behind the milking shed, my back and shoulders protesting the whole time.
Ferdinand is waiting along the fence line when I make one last trip to grab the hammer and nails. I pull off my leather work gloves to rub the skinny blaze that runs between his eyes. He leans into my touch, snorting his appreciation. The old gelding has lived on this ranch longer than I have, enjoying a happy retirement that includes grazing all day.
One last pat, and then I trudge toward the ladder leaning against the left side of the house.
By the time I climb up onto the roof, the sun is shining directly overhead. I start where I left off yesterday, determined to get the rest of the front side cleared. I get into a groove of shingle after shingle, row after row, until my phone rings in my back pocket.
For once, I remembered to charge it.
I pull it out, grimacing when I see the name on the screen.
“Hi, Brayden,” I answer.
“Kyle! How’s it going?”
I sigh and sit down on ripped felt, rubbing a hand across my face to clear the sweat that’s gathered. “They sent Piper fucking Egan.”
A pause.
“Should I know who that is?”
I scoff, more annoyed with myself than Brayden. He’s attended every meeting at Empire Records I have. Yet he has no idea who Piper is while there wasn’t a single visit I didn’t notice her presence.
“No.”
