Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Brandt gave a harsh laugh. “Ironic that. I never intended to pass it on, that’s for damn sure. So your folks never did pick a place and stick there?”
Shane didn’t miss Brandt’s readiness to switch the conversation topic back away from himself, but strangely, he was enjoying talking way more than usual. He didn’t share most of this stuff, but Brandt was the rare type to understand Shane’s unconventional upbringing, empathize without falling into pity like so many did.
“Hell no. My parents tried settling down when they had Shelby, but itchy feet kept getting the better of them both. Neither of them could keep a regular job more than a couple of months. Dad would chase get-rich-quick schemes with buddies all fall and winter, then head out on the road in the summer with whatever group would have him.”
“Guess that’s how you got the music bug?” Brandt was too close again as he refreshed the paint in the rolling pan. Too near. Too warm, his mere presence raising the temperature in the room a good ten degrees.
Shane tried to turn his attention to the painting and memories of those first few times he’d held a guitar, but it was hard with every sense tuned to Brandt. “I don’t remember ever not wanting to make music. There were always musicians and instruments around. We never had enough for formal lessons like piano, but I picked up enough early on as far as reading music. Guess encouraging me was one of the better things they did.”
“That’s more than something.” Brandt nodded sharply, and Shane could see the flash of a kid who maybe hadn’t heard enough kind words. “Bet they’re proud of you now.”
“Ha. I wish. I mean maybe. Dad always did idealize the music scene life. I know it grates on him that a bad back caught up with him and he lost out on roadie work.”
“But he’s still alive?” There was a certain softness to Brandt’s tone that Shane didn’t miss. He might act all tough, but some wounds went soul deep.
“Yeah. They’re both still alive. And I’m not discounting that they do love us. But he’s still miffed that I don’t want him managing my career, so we don’t talk much.” This time Shane managed to keep the roller under control as he summarized some of the more contentious years of his life.
“Sounds like a smart call on your part. Keep things professional.” Brandt’s voice was easy as he did some touch-up work with a brush. Unlike most people, he seemed content to accept Shane’s reasons for not wanting to work with his dad. And that made Shane’s shoulders ease.
“That’s one way to look at it. Not his,” Shane admitted. God, there had been enough arguments between them before he’d finally struck out on his own. But something deep inside him needed to be the one in control of his destiny. Singing his own songs. Making his own choices. Not tied to his dad’s highly unpredictable reliability and stuck chasing a rock-and-roll dream that wasn’t his. “Last I heard, Dad was shacked up with some too-young waitress and working at a night club in Cheyenne. He and Mom finally split for good after a number of dramatic separations when I was in high school. Anyway, to your original question, I suppose the west is as much home as anywhere else for me.”
“I hear that. Guess you could call this region home for me too. Most of my growing up was California, ended up going north to Oregon on my own. Then it’s been all over the west, chasing the next fire. Even did a summer in Alaska a few years back.”
“That sounds fun. Bellingham’s about as far north as I’ve been. That was a good gig.”
“I bet.” Brandt rolled his shoulders.
They were both about as ill-equipped for this sudden caretaking role as two people could be. But there was also a deeper sense of connection here, one Shane didn’t often get. It was rare, finding someone who understood how instability burrowed under a kid’s skin, left scars, and made it hard to relate to people who’d had that picket-fence life.
And that understanding made his stomach wobbly and his hands way shakier on the paint roller than he’d like. Maybe they needed to be done with the personal truth telling.
“I’m going to need to go into town tomorrow. The baby’s getting low on formula.” Yeah, that was it. Keep to the practical.
“Finding parking for your rig is going to be a challenge. I’m going into work later tomorrow because of a meeting with Cameron. If you take me out to the base, you can have my car to run errands.”
The practical became markedly less comfortable with the news of another lawyer meeting. “Cameron needed you to come in?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Should have said that earlier. She called while you were putting Jewel down. She’s expecting the paternity test results first thing in the morning, so she wants to discuss next steps depending on what it shows.”