Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) Read Free

drinks and coma-like slumber. She’s saving
up for a place of her own, and the night shifts at the hospital pay a little
better. But even so, I can’t imagine doing what she does. I know that music is
important to people, but this girl literally saves lives every day. She should
be the one with the story in the newspaper, not me.
    “There’s some quinoa in the fridge,” Mom says, scrutinizing
the wall.
    “The perfect portable snack,” Kate says, rolling her eyes,
“I’ll stop somewhere along the way.”
    “Have a good shift,” I tell her.
    “You’re not leaving until the morning, right?” she asks,
wrapping me up in a quick hug.
    “That’s right,” I say, “You know I wouldn’t leave without
saying goodbye!”
    “I don’t know,” she sniffs, “Now that you’re a big, famous
musician, who’s to say if you still have time for the little people?”
    “Not you too,” I groan.
    “I’m kidding,” she grins, making tracks, “I’m just proud of
my little sissy-poo!”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble good-naturedly, “Get lost, weirdo.”
    Kate lets the front door slam shut behind her, and we hear
her second hand car rattle to life and drive off into the distance. As I watch
my mom’s emphatic, disorganized progress around the room, a powerful stab of
sadness shoots through me. In no time, Kate will have enough of a cushion to
find a place of her own. And I certainly don’t mean to move home once I
graduate from Berklee. Thinking of her alone in this house brings stinging
tears to my eyes, tears I blink away in a hurry lest she see. The three of us
girls are kind of like old war buddies. We survived the utter force of
destruction that was my father and made a new life for ourselves in this little
nest. It was terrifying, starting over without Dad, but we made it through,
stronger for the struggle.
    “Whoa!” Mom cries, as I rush forward and wrap my arms around
her middle, “What’s the deal, kiddo?”
    “I’m just going to miss you,” I say softly.
    “You’ll be gone for a week,” she says, “I’m sure you’ll
manage to live without me.”
    I let out a little laugh and pull away from her, my skin
dappled with her yellow paint. I shouldn’t worry so much about her—Mom is
nothing if not unflappable. I turn on my heel and head up to my old bedroom to
pack.
    The same old posters that I put up in high school still
cling to the cluttered walls of my room. I haven’t changed a thing about this
space since I went away to college. There’s something comforting about knowing
that this little shrine to the way my life used to be still exists somewhere in
the world. When I’m away in Boston, stressing out about a vocal performance, or
some insane exam, or some one night stand gone stale, I can remember that my
poster of Carly Simon is right where I left it. It makes me feel a little better,
every time.
    I sink down onto my faded quilt and take a deep breath. My
every nerve is buzzing in anticipation of this trip. Tomorrow, bright and
early, I’ll go collect Mitch from his parents’ picket-fenced shrine to
normalcy. We’ll head south, all the way down to Kansas. I’ve already resolved
to stop at as many oddities and pit stops along the way as possible, much to
Mitch’s inevitable chagrin. I can’t help it—I love the bizarre, kitschy nooks
of this country. That’s half the reason I love trucking down to the festival
every year. Every time, the whole thing becomes a little more familiar. I start
to recognize other regulars, truck stops, “natural wonders”. Only this year,
I’ll get to be one of the chosen ones. For a few beautiful hours, I’ll be the
one singing into the heavy summer air, listening to my music float up into the
clear, starry sky and out over the country.
    Humming happily through a new melody that’s been stuck on my
mind of late, I rummage under the bed for my luggage. The sudden ringing of my
cell phone startles me, and I smack my head roughly against the underbelly