“Maybe not, but something is definitely up. I know it.”
“Yeah? What makes you such an expert?” I was being a surly son of a bitch and I knew it, but I didn’t care. Pippa’s stubbornness knocked me off-kilter.
“Only being on the road with you and in the studio with you for the past couple of decades. All of your best songs are about Pippa. Her big blue eyes. Her lush lips and sweet kisses. Laughing with her. Shit man, you’ve written at least four songs on the sound of her laugh.”
“It’s a good laugh, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Damn right you are. These songs are mine. My brainchild. My lyrics and my feelings. My music.”
“Whoa, hold up big brother, no one is trying to steal your credit or say those beautiful lyrics weren’t all you, but they were inspired by her.” I opened my mouth to deny it when my stupid baby brother snatched my notebook from the music stand with a teasing laugh.
“Eyes like the hottest part of the fire. The curve of her hips like the smooth curve of the moon.” He laughed again and shook his head. “This is all about Pippa, one hundred percent. And this is good stuff, I’m calling dibs on this song.”
“It’s not a song.” Not yet but it would be. Soon.
Roman’s smile faded and his eyes turned serious. “Wanna talk about it.”
“Nothing to talk about, really.”
“Nothing really usually means something,” he shot back and kicked his feet up on my piano bench. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Come on, Ry, tell me.” He laughed when I smacked his feet off the bench. “Just tell me, maybe I can help.”
“I don’t need any help.” Her silence told me that she actually meant those words she said. “She said I never loved her. That our relationship was nothing more than chemistry and teenage hormones.”
“Ouch. Is she wrong?”
I glared at my brother, hard. “All the way wrong.”
Roman nodded thoughtfully, his gaze never wavered from my own. “Did you tell her that?”
“She’s not ready to hear it because she’s convinced herself that her narrative is the truth.”
“Then it’s on you to show her just how wrong she is, Ry.”
I shook my head because I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Two weeks, and I wasn’t any closer to coming up with a plan to spend more time with Pippa, to changing her mind about me. “I’m working on it.”
“Working on what?” My sister’s voice wafted over the speakers inside the recording booth.
I groaned and glared at my brother. “Did you call Lacey?”
Roman held his hands up defensively, shaking his head despite the big ass grin on his face. “Nope.”
“He didn’t have to,” she growled as she pushed open the recording booth door. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for more than a week. You don’t return phone calls anymore?”
“Been busy,” I told her and pointed to the guitar resting against my thigh. “Something wrong?”
Her big blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Does something need to be wrong for me to reach out to my kid brothers?” The telltale toe tapping told me I was in trouble. “I wanted to grab lunch, convince you to let me interview you, dig into all the details of your life for my own personal enjoyment. Basic sister stuff.”
“You should have reached out to Devon, he handles all that stuff for me.”
Lacey sucked in a shocked breath. “I am not calling your assistant to get penciled into your schedule, not when I have your direct number, Ryan Gregory. When I call, you answer. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” I saluted for good measure, which earned me another glare.
“Back off, Lacey,” Roman said as he flung an arm around her. “Ryan’s going through some things, writing songs about Pippa again.”
“You’re not!” Her blue eyes filled with disappointment and fear.
I shrugged.
“Dammit, Ry, please don’t go there again. You broke her last time and it was heartbreaking, watching her walk around town with sadness in her eyes, the light gone. She was a shell after you left for Nashville, and then she went and stayed away for twenty years.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“In part, yeah, it is,” she answered easily. “I’m determined to get our friendship back since she’s home, and that won’t ever happen if you hurt her again.”
“Now hold up one damn minute. How am I the bad guy?” I knew why Pippa thought so, but my own sister? “I never once toyed with her feelings. I loved her.” Still did, not that she believed it.
Roman and Lacey looked at each other for a long moment, reminding me of their close bond despite being the oldest and the youngest siblings, and then burst out laughing. It was loud and raucous and far too damned amused for my liking.
“You kind of did, bro,” Roman began, a sympathetic glint in his eyes despite his smile. “Did you even ask her to come with us to Nashville?”