Maggie sat between her parents during the flight home. It was an awkward, frustrating position, and none of them said a word the entire time. Cole said goodbye at the Denver airport and said he’d text her later. She watched him walk away, her heart sinking with every step he took.
“Let’s go home and make some sandwiches,” her dad said, slapping her on the back as the rest of the band dispersed in the parking lot.
Maggie gave him a weak smile. “Sure, Dad.”
“I’m not hungry,” Sandy responded, as if Todd had made the suggestion to her and not Maggie. On the way home, Maggie shifted in her seat as she looked back and forth from her dad’s head to her mom’s. They were never like this, but she supposed now that she knew about the divorce, there was no more need to pretend everything was okay.
Cole texted her as they pulled into their driveway.
Are you doing okay?
She typed a message back as fast she could before climbing out of the truck: I was wondering the same thing about you.
Yeah, I’m okay. Want me to come over tonight so we can talk?
Yes, please.
“Mags, help us out here!” her dad called as he held up her guitar case. She put her phone away and grabbed the case then followed her parents inside.
“I’m going upstairs,” Sandy said, throwing one of her bags in the entryway.
“G’night,” Todd said as she disappeared upstairs, clearly ignoring him.
Maggie rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how long she could be around her parents like this. She started rummaging through the fridge. The housekeeper must have cleaned while they were gone. She searched hard to find anything worthy of a sandwich. Some dry bread, salami, pickles, and mayonnaise. Her dad didn’t seem to care. He wolfed down his first sandwich and reached for the loaf of bread to make another.
“Cole’s coming over,” she said, spreading some mayo on a slice of bread for herself.
Her dad let out a sigh. “I’m surprised about Cole,” he said, pulling out two more slices of bread. “I thought he’d stick around forever.”
“Yeah, guess not.” She walked around the bar stool next to him and sat down. “You think you know someone and you really don’t.”
“Kind of like I thought I knew your mom.” He spread a thick layer of mayo on his bread. It was funny to her how he could enjoy escargot at the French restaurant as much as a salami and pickle sandwich. It was part of why she loved him so much.
“You mean because she’s not forgiving you?”
He shrugged. “After so many years, I thought we could get through anything together. Even with all we’ve been going through, I was still surprised when she told me she wants a divorce. Things seemed all right for a few months and then . . . bam.”
Maggie didn’t mention that when you cheat on someone you breach the whole “together” thing. What did she know about marriage? She couldn’t even keep a boyfriend.
“Anyway,” her dad said, digging some pickles out of the bottom of the jar with a fork. “That’s nice Cole’s coming over.” He placed the pickles in a neat row on top of the mayonnaise. “He’s not leaving because of what happened between you two, is he? That was, what, a year ago?”
“No, it’s not because of me,” she answered as she piled salami on her bread.
“Sure hope not. Cole’s a nice guy, Mags. I’m sad it didn’t work out between you two, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give it another try, even now that he’s leaving the band.”
She shrugged and reached for the pickle jar. “I’m thinking of trying to sing again. Maybe even moving out.”
His eyes grew big. “Oh, really?”
She couldn’t tell if he was pleasantly surprised or trying to hide a wave of disappointment. “Yeah, Cole thinks I should. Grace thinks I should. I’m definitely thinking about it now.”
He stared down at his sandwich. “Maybe it’s a good time,” he said softly. “I know you’ve had problems with your singing, but maybe it’s like breaking down a wall. Once it’s down, you’ll be unstoppable.”
Her mouth dropped open. It was the first time she’d ever heard him say something encouraging about her singing since she was a kid.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He gathered up his plate and slid off his barstool. “I love you, Mags. No matter what happens, that will never change.” He kissed her forehead and started walking out of the kitchen. “I’ll be in the guest room down here if you need anything.”
She twisted around to look at him. “Not going to try to work it out with Mom?”
He turned and gave her a sad, lopsided smile. His beard looked like it needed a trimming and his clothes were rumpled from the plane ride. “Nah, not tonight. Wouldn’t want to keep you up with our yelling at each other. Night, Mags.”
She gave him a forced smile and watched him leave. She knew what she had to do.
* * *
She looked up as Cole drove his truck into the driveway. She was sitting on the porch steps, her guitar in her lap as she strummed a melody she was trying to match with a set of lyrics she had finished the week before.
“In the mood to play, huh?” Cole asked as he kicked some pinecones off the walkway then sat down next to her on the steps. It was a warm night for November, their breaths barely visible in the air.
Maggie kept playing. She was relieved to see Cole looking relaxed and content. It made her think tonight might go a lot better than the rest of her day. “I’m trying to convince you I can play,” she said in a sweet, singsong voice.
“I already know you can play,” he answered, watching as she moved from strumming to picking out a more elaborate tune. He smelled of soap and something like aftershave, even though he was not clean-shaven in the slightest. He also wasn’t wearing his hat.
“All right, so what do you think of me playing in this new band of yours?” she asked, getting right to the point. Half of it, anyway. She didn’t expect him to say anything positive in response.
He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his expression strained. “Well, Maggie, I want to help you with your music, but I’m not sure joining my band is going to be the solution.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Tapping her foot, she tried to keep her rhythm as she played.
Cole finally turned to face her, his eyes widening. “What are you getting at?”
He could read her so well. She stopped playing as a cool breeze swept across the white wraparound porch. “What would you say to me staying at your place for a little while? Not as a girlfriend—just a friend. I’ll pay rent.”
There, it was out.
Cole leaned back on his hands. “You want to leave your parents?”
Was it that difficult to believe? She supposed it must be. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she answered as she rocked her guitar on her knee. “I’m twenty. I need to get out of here.”
Silent, Cole studied her for a long minute. “There’s something else? What is it?”
There was no keeping this from him. He would find out sooner than later. “There’s a reason a lot of people leave home by the time they’re eighteen,” she said as she rubbed the calluses on her fingertips. “Grace told me once how she regrets staying home when she started college here. She was trying to save money until she could get into Brown, but she says it wasn’t worth it because she felt trapped for so long.”
“You’re feeling trapped?” Cole asked, still leaning back on his hands.
“No, not exactly. Well, maybe. It’s more about Mom and Dad and if they really need me at home and on tours. I try to be helpful, but they don’t really need me. They keep pressing me to go to college, and now I know why.”
“Oh?” He watched her closely, his eyes narrowed. He knew she was still holding back. She had to force herself through this.
“If you haven’t already noticed, they’re having problems. Dad told me the other night that he . . . he . . .” Her eyes stung as she leaned over her guitar. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard to tell Cole. She hated knowing he would lose respect for her dad once she got it out. When she felt his warm hand on her back, she relaxed. He was here for her no matter what.
She took a deep breath. “He cheated on Mom,” she said as fast as she could. “Six months ago.”
Cole’s hand stiffened. She didn’t even try to guess what he might be thinking.
“They’ve kept it quiet. Dad knows he made a mistake, but Mom can’t forgive him. She’s decided she wants a divorce.” Straightening, she looked into Cole’s eyes as his jaw flexed. “Guess you picked a good time to leave, huh?” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a jittery puff of air.
“Don’t joke about that,” Cole said, shaking his head. He moved his hand off her back and leaned forward to take her into an embrace. It was awkward with the guitar on her lap, but she didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” he said, nudging her head onto his shoulder. “So, that’s why you want to get away?”
“Part of the reason, yes. I’ve been thinking about it lately, but right now I’m not sure I can last another day in the same house with them. I’ve made some money from my ‘Digging Home’ lyrics, and Mom and Dad have a savings account set up for me for when I decide to move out or get married or go to college. They want it to be college, but that’s not . . . I’m not ready for something like that.” She thought about Grace’s apartment picture. It seemed like such a huge step, such a normal thing to do. She wasn’t there yet. She couldn’t just up and move into a dorm or an apartment. What would she study, anyway? Singing? Writing? She had none of this figured out. “So,” she continued, “I could pay you rent up front.”
“All right.”
And that was all he said. He ran a hand down her hair and she held her breath.
“Of course I’m happy to help you out,” he said after a long minute of silence. “I think you’re right about getting away, and it should help your parents too. They need to be alone to figure out their problems.”
“Right,” she answered. “It won’t be for a long time. I thought about camping out in a hotel or something until I find a place.” She pulled away from his arms and swiped a hand across her face. His scent was on her skin.
“No, don’t do that. Seriously, it’s okay.”
“Or I could ask Lynnette or someone else in the band if I can stay with them.” She looked into his eyes. “But if you’re willing . . . I mean, will it be too weird with our breakup and everything, do you think?”
He laughed. “No, we’re adults. We can handle it. It’s not the best timing for me, but it’ll work. We’ll settle on a rent amount, so that should keep things professional enough, right?”
She nodded. “I promise things won’t get weird.”
He stared down at the steps. “You can’t ask questions, though, okay? If you get curious about stuff. Let me . . . let me tell you when I’m ready.”
She straightened. “Okay.”
His mouth twitched and he shifted a worried look to her. “Were you serious about playing in my band?”
Setting her guitar upright again, she started playing. “No! I was teasing.”
Kind of.