Greysonlooked from Devin’s face to mine with uncertainty. “Uh, I think so, but …”
“Showhim what you got.”
Helooked at the sticks as though they might explode if he even laid his hand onthem. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking from me to Devin, and Devin noddedencouragingly. “Uh, what should I play?”
“What’syour favorite song to practice to?” Devin asked, swinging his guitar from hisback to front.
Greysontook the sticks from me as he replied, “’Everlong.’”
Mybrow pinched. “Why didn’t I know you could play that song?” And Greyson’s smugsmirk was accompanied by a shrug as he rounded the kit to sit down.
“Awesome.Dad, you’re sitting out on this one,” Devin directed at me, walking toward themic, and I sat down on an amp. “Whenever you’re ready, Greyson.”
Iwatched Grey shake out his wrists and take a few deep breaths as he familiarizedhimself with the set-up while keeping his eyes on Devin. He was nervous, and Ismiled affectionately, as his breaths became more unsteady, and I stood up fromthe amp.
“Hey,”I said gently, walking around to crouch beside the stool. “You freaking outover here?”
“He’sDevin O’Leary,” Greyson gritted out through his teeth.
“Sowhat?” I shrugged, shooting a look at Dev. “He’s just a guy who plays a guitar.No biggie.”
Greysonscoffed. “Yeah, okay. What if you got to play with the Foo Fighters?”
Ipursed my lips and thought about that for a moment. HowwouldI feel ifI was ever given the opportunity to rock a song with Dave Grohl? Even given theamount of experience I had, would I ever feel worthy of an honor like that?
Theanswer was obvious. “They’re no different than I am, kid. I mean, I love thefuck out of them, and they’re certainly more popular. But, when you take awaythe popularity, they’re just a bunch of guys who really love making music, likeme,” I nudged my knuckles against his knee, “andyou.”
Heconsidered that for a moment, and nodded. “But what if I screw up?”
“Thenyou screw up.”
“ButDevin’s opened for one of the most famous guitarists in theworld,”Greyson pressed, darting an incredulous glance toward me before pinning hisgaze back on Devin.
Ibarked a laugh that encouraged Chad and Ty to turn toward us, and they smiled.I imagined it was pretty bizarre for my friends to watch me handle a kid. Hell,it was still bizarre for me.
“Sohave I,” I replied, still laughing. “And you don’t mind playing with me.”
Greysonrolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re just my dad.”
Iknow the comment should’ve been sobering, in the way movies and TV always makesit seem. That moment you realize you’re no longer Superman and you’rejustthe dad. The guy your kid doesn’t want around when he’s trying to impress thecute girl, in fear that you might embarrass him. I know I should’ve been hurtand shuffled off somewhere to feel old and unwanted. But instead, my throatclenched, squeezing around the instant burst of emotion, at knowing I wasjusthis dad.
Thatfelt so much better than being his hero.
Clearingmy throat, I nodded. “Yeah, I am.” I stood up, squeezing a hand against hisshoulder. “But I’m still a fucking badass.”
Witha final deep breath, Greyson told Devin he was ready, and with a one, two,three count, Devin kicked the song off with the strumming of his guitar.Greyson kept his cool, concentrating as the sticks tapped against the hi-hat, andI nodded approvingly when he glanced toward me.
Heslipped up a couple times, missing a few beats, but still, he was perfect.Because even though he gritted his teeth and shook his head at himself, he keptgoing. He pushed through, and when he reached the first chorus, he breathed outa sigh of relief, and his smile broke through.
“You’redoing good, kid,” I called to him, holding my two thumbs up.
Itwas with that chorus though, that I stopped paying attention to them playing.My ears picked up on the lyrics, listening to the words that I hadn’t allowedmyself to listen to since Tabby told me we were done. Those words now emphasizedan ache I couldn’t forget, couldn’t let go of, and I huffed through theinflation of my cheeks.
Whatif nothing else feels as real as what I had with her?
Whatif nothing is ever that good again?
Theache spread deeper and hugged my stomach with a tightened squeeze. I emptied withanother deep breath as I headed toward the edge of the stage, sitting down tolet my feet dangle over the side. Fuck, I hated this feeling, and what I hatedmore was not knowing what to do about it. Don’t they say that if you lovesomething, you should let it go? Does anybody ever talk about what happensafter that? Because I had let her go, but I couldn’tstop.
