Page 7 of Heartstring

If there’s anywhere we call home, those would be the two places.

But Kay has been homeschooled all her life, and now that her tutor is retiring, I figured it was time for a change of pace for us too.

She needs to go to a real school and learn how to socialize with people her own age.

I might not admit it aloud, but I’m ready to settle down. To come home to my old pair of slippers, find the house just as we left it, and have somewhere to call home. Our home.

This was a good decision. I’m sure Kay will eventually agree. As soon as she stops sulking and I become her favorite person again.

The sound of the doorbell puts me on alert. I’m not expecting visitors, and no one should get past the gate without me knowing anyway.

“I’ll get it,” Kay shouts, running past me down the stairs.

“Who’s coming?”

“Reinforcements.”

I groan. “They better be prepared to unpack boxes, and if they’re thinking of raiding the fridge, they can turn right back out.”

I leave her to greet my unwanted guests. Well…not unwanted, just unannounced.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Kay would get on the phone with the band.

If I was a betting man, I’d say she got to Fox first. That girl has him wrapped around her finger. Fox would have called Bastian. Bastian would have called Fox’s brother, Nikko, and Stone is always up for anything that might inconvenience my life.

My three band brothers and tour manager, and Kay’s honorary uncles. Bastian, the lead singer on the rhythm guitar; me, vocals and lead guitar; Fox, vocals and bass; and Stone, vocals and drums. Not to mention Nikko, our tour manager a.k.a. rock-star wrangler, without whom we’d be a pile of disorganization and would probably turn up to play at the wrong venue three times out of five.

We’re Hall of Fame. One of the biggest rock bands in the country. Five guys connected by the music we live for and the lives we’ve shared for twenty-five years.

God, I hate them as much as I love them.

I change my shirt to something less dad-in-slippers like and something more like what they’d expect from me. Not that I’m wearing slippers. It’s too fucking cold in the house. Boots, jeans, and a black shirt do the job. And a coat, of course, because I still haven’t figured out the thermostat and today decided to be the start of fall, which in Connecticut apparently means fucking freezing.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good choice after all.

“Dude, what happened to you?” Stone asks as I cross the archway to the den where Kay has taken them.

“What do you mean?”

Bastian snorts. “Thor, honey, you look like shit.”

“Told ya,” Kay says matter-of-factly. “We need to get out of here before he starts writing country songs and turns this place into Nashville on steroids.”

Stone disappears toward the kitchen while Fox, Bastian, and Nikko share the couch, making themselves all too comfortable.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Bastian says, looking around the room. “I never took you for a minimalist kind of guy.”

Fox nods his agreement, and I give them both the finger.

“Grandma wanted us to stay with her longer, so we’ve only been here a week. Feels like years though,” Kay moans.

“Not that you’re being dramatic about it or anything,” I say, raising a brow.

“I get that you didn’t have a place, and you needed the space, the stability, but why so far from us, man? We’ve always done the post-tour season in Vermont. It’s weird that you’re not there, you know,” Fox says.

It surprises me that Fox is the first to say something because he’s more the type to sit silently while chaos reigns around him. But this is Kay’s doing, and he’s always had a soft spot for her.

Kay stares at me with the defiant and confident look of someone with a whole team of super-protective uncles behind her.