“THAT’S IT. PAULY, I CAN’T take this anymore. Get off the highway. Now.”

The tires screeched slightly as Pauly turned on the blinker and crossed two lanes of traffic to make it to the exit, the cars behind us honking their displeasure. Pauly and I exchanged a glance in the rearview mirror. Dad had never made a request like this before.

“I cannot drink one more cup of this Comfort Motel coffee!” Dad roared. “I have hit my limit! The limit is here, Pauly!” Dad indicated the limit, which was apparently about level with the brim of his fedora. “The limit is here, and I have hit it!”

“Understood, boss.”

The man had lost his mind. I didn’t think cheap motel coffee would be what pushed him over the edge, but here we were.

“There’s a place called Rise and Grind just a couple minutes away.” Figured I’d better use my phone to find Dad some real coffee, STAT. “They’ve got five stars on Yelp.”

“Let’s hope their beans are better than their puns,” Dad grumbled.

Rise and Grind turned out to be in a little white wooden building not far off the highway. It had a drive-through, but Pauly parked in one of the spots right in front. Dad was out of the van before it had even come to a complete stop.

“Maybe I should invest in a portable fancy coffee machine,” Pauly mused, the two of us alone in the van.

“For your sanity, that might be a good call. You want anything?”

“Nah, Josie, I’m good.” He waved me away. “Try to hurry your dad along a little if you can. I want plenty of time to check out Asheville before we have to head to the venue. Did you know they call it ‘Bee City USA’?”

“I did not.” Wow. We were headed to Pauly’s personal Disneyland. “But no problem. I’ll hurry Dad along. He loves being rushed. And told what to do. And—”

“Point taken.” Pauly chuckled as I hopped out of the van.

“Don’t worry, Pauly,” I said. “We’ll get you to those bees.”

The man deserved at least that much. How he’d put up with my dad on the road for all these years, I’d never understand.

By the time I got into the shop, ordered, and collected my iced coffee, Dad was sitting at a round table in the window, sipping elegantly from a large, cream-colored ceramic mug.

“Got this one for here, huh?” I slid into the wooden chair across from him. “I’m not sure how well that jives with Pauly’s get-to-Asheville-to-see-some-bees schedule.”

“I’ll take most of it to go. I just needed a couple sips from something that didn’t taste like cardboard. Sometimes, it’s the little things you miss the most when you’re on the road.”

“Mmm.”

We both looked out the window then, watching the cars travel back onto the highway, where we’d be heading soon.

“But as I’m sure you’ve started to learn, Josie.” Dad set his cup back down in the saucer. The pretty design on top of the latte was still mostly intact. “It isn’t just the little things you give up when you go on the road. It’s hard to unpack every night, never feeling quite at home. It’s hard to keep your energy up for the same show night after night, especially when you’re tired after driving all day. It’s also hard”—he paused—“to form any kind of relationship, romantic or otherwise.”

I looked up quickly. He was very deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“Dad. I don’t know what you think is happening, but if you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to, I promise, there is nothing going on between me and—”

“I ran into Boone this morning as he was bidding his lady friend adieu.” Dad took another sip. Wow. Okay. So we were just putting it all out there. “I know Pauly had thought there was something between the two of you …”

“There isn’t. Wasn’t. Never was.” One kiss on a beach wasn’t a something. “All I care about is what Boone Wyant does onstage. Whatever he does offstage makes no difference to me. And I don’t need Pauly to get me a boyfriend. I’m not looking for that right now.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been … hurt.”

I think this was Dad’s way of showing he cared. He was kind of dancing around it awkwardly, but for him, I knew this meant something.

And maybe, what it really meant, was that he was trying. Trying to make our relationship something more than “pull up on the tempo here” and “watch your tone there.”

“You have a real voice, Josie. Potentially a once-in-a-generation voice.” I stared at him, openmouthed. Dad had never heaped this kind of praise on me before. “I think, with dedication, you have the potential to far surpass your old man. In terms of talent, success, everything. Everything you’ve always wanted can be yours, Josie. But only if—and this is a big if—you focus.”

“I am focused, Dad.” It was wonderful to hear him say these things, but also so frustrating. What had I ever done to make him think I lacked the focus necessary to become a star? This had always been his thing, and I’ve never understood it. “I know you didn’t really get the Pussycats, but I always gave them my all. Just like I give everything my all when it comes to my music. Have I been anything less than professional on the tour so far?”

“You’ve been extremely professional.”

“Thank you.” At least he could acknowledge it. “And if you’re still harping on about Boone, I told him, very clearly, that we were never going to happen. And also, clearly, from last night, he got the message.”

“Understood.” Dad held up his hands. “I just don’t want him to distract you. I’m happy to ask him to leave the tour.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s fine.” Asking Boone to leave the tour felt more embarrassing, like admitting I’d been hurt by him. And I hadn’t been. I could keep it completely professional. He would just be another opener, nothing more. “I’m not distracted, not by Boone or by any other guy. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Dad sighed. “Listen, Josie. I know I’m hard on you, but I’m hard on you because you’re good. And I want you to be great. And I think you can be.”

“I appreciate that, Dad. But I also need you to start seeing me as someone who believes in her own greatness and wants it even more than you do. I’m going to be a star, Dad. I know it. And I’m not going to let anything—or anyone—stop me.”

“Well, good, then. I’m glad to hear it.” Dad smiled—really, genuinely smiled—and I remembered how it felt to dance around the room as a little girl while he played the piano, with complete and utter abandon, just happy to be making music with my dad.

But I was starting to wonder if it might be time for me to make music on my own.

“You know, Dad,” I started, unsure how to say this, exactly, “I’m beyond grateful for this opportunity. And I’ve learned so much from touring with you. But—”

“You’re thinking about heading out on your own,” Dad finished for me. “Don’t look so shocked, Josie.” He chuckled. “I saw the look on your face when you sang at Tiny’s. You’re an artist who needs creative control. No surprise—you are my daughter, after all.”

I had been expecting dire predictions that I’d fail. That I wasn’t ready to be on my own. That leaving the tour would be a career-ending mistake.

This level of support was the last thing I expected.

But it felt good.

“I mean, you know, don’t leave me on the side of the road or anything,” I joked. “I’m not ready to go quite yet …”

“You’ve got a spot behind the microphone on the Myles McCoy tour for as long as you want it,” Dad said sincerely. “And whenever you’re ready to head out on your own, I’ll be sitting front-row center on your first night.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I reached out and took his hand. “That means a lot.”

After holding my hand for about two seconds, Dad stood up. “Well. Shall we?” For us, this had been a lot of father-daughter feelings time. “Pauly’s probably lamenting the state of our schedule out there.”

One to-go cup later, we were settled into our customary positions in the van and back on the highway. As we drove toward Asheville, I was excited to see what our next stop held in store. And from there, we’d head on to Pigeon Forge, Knoxville, and then, finally, Nashville. Music City.

Somehow, I doubted Boone’s job offer was still on the table. But I didn’t need it. And I sure wasn’t going to let him stop me from seeing what opportunities there might be for me in Nashville. He didn’t own that city. Who knows, maybe it would be a good place to get started. It was certainly worth checking out.

But even with all these new destinations before me, and Nashville coming closer and closer, I couldn’t get New York out of my head. It seemed like the kind of place where I could become a star. Find myself. Find my voice.

It seemed like the kind of place that could be home.