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“If you say please,” I murmur, hovering my finger above the first song of their new album.
“Pwease, Mommy. I want to listen to daddies sing!” Yup. I’m whipped despite hating the voices blasting through the speakers of our home.
“Okay, one more time.” Let the record show it wasn’t one more time. It was twelve more times that day and beyond. Every day from then on out, Lyric demanded Whispered Words on repeat. I tuned it out as best I could, but you can only do it for so long.
“Hold on,” Kieran says, raising a hand. The loud music dies down as the guys watch him with curious gazes. “Come here, Little Blue,” he says with a grin, curling a finger in her direction. She doesn’t hesitate a second, barreling into Kieran’s legs with a squeal. “I see you’re singing. Do you know all the words to this one?”
“Every song, Daddy,” she says with a huge grin and a clap. Kieran quirks a brow in my direction. I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. No way in hell am I admitting our spawn forced me to listen to them every damn day until I fell asleep to their voices rattling inside my brain. Nope. Not gonna happen. “I listened to them every day!” she whispers directly into the microphone, letting everyone hear our dirty little secret.
My cheeks heat when all their eyes fall on me. Can the ground please swallow me up, I’ll never hear the end of this shit. Not until I’m six feet deep with flowers blooming above my decaying body.
“Every day?” Rad grins, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Fucker.
“Every day!” she squeals in confirmation when Kieran hands her the microphone.
Rad smirks in my direction. “I see you, Pretty Girl,” he quips, settling back on his stool.
“Why don’t you help us practice then, Little Blue? Sing with me?” He questions with pride, lighting up his eyes at the prospect of singing with his daughter.
Lyric frantically nods, screeching joyfully when Kieran pulls her into his arms.
“This one’s for you,” he says in a low voice, locking eyes with me, sending shivers down my spine at the intensity of his gaze. Fuck me. It’s the same look he gave me last night when he rested above me, with his fingers settled deep inside my aching core. My pussy clenches at the memory. I’m such a fucking goner. I need Ode’s advice before I jump in headfirst and drown in them. “How about River’s song? Rushing River?”
Double fuck.
Rad snorts, whooping. “Let’s do this! Get ready, Pretty Girl. I’m about to serenade your panties off.”
“Panties?!” Lyric giggles into the microphone, making everyone else chuckle.
“Cal?” Kieran asks, locking eyes with the silent bassist.
A grin tugs at Cal’s lip, lighting up his face. “It’s been a while,” he says, plucking two strings on his bass.
“Ash?” Kieran asks with a broken voice, catching the guitarist off guard.
Licking his lips, Ash gives an unsure nod. “Yeah, man. River’s song.”
And with that, Lyric belts out the song she shouldn’t know. The song they only played at the Battle of the Bands winning celebration and recorded for their demo became a short-lived radio hit. The song they swore—because I happened to catch an interview—that they’d never publicly play again. I heard it everywhere I went. It followed me like their betrayal clung on. The day I had lunch with Seger and Zeppelin at that shitty diner, this song buried knives in my back, forcing me to relive what they did to me. Over and fucking over. And for some strange reason, my fucking daughter loved the shit out of it, making me suffer further.
Here it is again. The words are the same. About a roaring River, breaking through and making a life for themself. It’s about strength and perseverance. Before, Kieran snarled every word until he refused to play it again. Now, their tone is different. Happier. Joyful. Full of life. And dare I say, love.
Their smiles light up the room when Lyric perfectly duets Kieran, matching his pitch changes. Sometimes she goes higher. Occasionally she dips lower. Together, they’re creating an out-of-this-world sound. Almost like this is their destiny, like they belong together.
“Holy fucking shit!” Rad shouts, jumping from his stool. “Little Pretty Girl, you’ve got some pipes on you!” Kissing her hair, she giggles at his words, thanking him with a big hug.
“You sounded amazing, Little One,” Asher marvels, staring at her with stars in his eyes.
“So damn good. Shall we go again?” Kieran asks, earning a yes from her.
“Again!” she screams like she used to, begging to continue.
I watch in awe for the next several hours as my daughter commands the makeshift stage. She prances around with the microphone, throwing out some ballet moves. She screams. She wails. And dear God, she sings, carrying the tune like a damn pro.
“When did that happen?” Kieran asks, sitting beside me on the couch after calling it quits for the night when Lyric showed signs of slowing down.
Do not look at his shirtless chest. Or his tight jeans. In fact, don’t look at any fucking thing regarding him, or you’ll jump his bones. There’s a child in the room, for God’s sake.
