After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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The asphalt blurred under the wheels of my new Audi R8. With my attention focused on the road, I made my best effort to avoid thinking about Wyatt, my inability to write lyrics, and the rehearsals for our arena show in April.
I was going to spend some time in my hometown. My dad would open his bike repair shop tomorrow, and I wanted to surprise him by attending the celebration. The fame of Rebellious Hearts came at a cost. Swamped with numerous work commitments, I sometimes wondered if my spare time still belonged to me.
Focusing my gaze on the rutted lane ahead of me, I slowed down the vehicle and drove into our town, only to park in Dad's driveway some minutes later. His bike outside told me he was likely home. Hopefully, Mom would join us for dinner as well.
My parents agreed to take a break from each other almost three years ago. Neither of them explained why, which was something strange in itself. Mom moved across the country and took my brother with her, but now they were back.
Mom rented an apartment and accepted a job in the local school, and Brian would work with my dad once the repair shop was up and running.
Still lost in thought, I took the keys out of my pocket and let myself into the house where I grew up.
"Dad?" I called upon seeing the empty living room. Without much thought, I padded to my dad's room and wished I hadn't because no kid of any age wanted to see their parents naked, getting some loving.
"For fuck's sake!" I put my palms over my eyes and turned around to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately for me, closed eyes meant I didn't see the dresser. I bumped into the sturdy piece of wooden furniture- thank Benjamin O'Brien, my grandfather, for creating reliable things - and cursed again before finally making my way out of my dad's bedroom.
My parents appeared in the living room when I was pacing the length of it, rubbing the hip I must've bruised.
"You didn't say you were coming." Dad grinned. I would smile, too, if I hadn't been so damn embarrassed.
"That's how you were made, Jimmy," Mom said, hugging me and kissing my cheek. "And you can open your eyes now. We are decent."
"The pictures of me as a baby are enough," I muttered, returning Mom's hug. "You should have locked the door."
"Told you, Aria," Dad said.
"Since when are you two back together?" I asked my parents, sweeping my gaze over their slightly disheveled state.
"We're not. Well, we are. We're dating again." Mom shrugged, tucking long strands of her brown hair behind her ears. Her eyes, green like mine, twinkled with mischief.
Dad retied his hair and winked at me as if that would make the awkwardness disappear.
