Everything: A Singed Wings Novel

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Authors: Erin Noelle

Tags: #General Fiction

BOOK: Everything: A Singed Wings Novel
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Table of Contents

Front Matter

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Erin Noelle

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author/ publisher, except by a reviewer that may quote brief passages for review purposes only. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each participant.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, is entirely coincidental.

 

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

Cover Design by Hang Le

Editing by Kayla Robichaux

Proofing by Jennifer Van Wyk & Jill Sava

Formatting by Jill Sava

 
For my MastaBetas:
Never stop stroking it

 


EMERGENCY FAMILY MEETING
? Do you know anything about this?” I raised my eyebrows suspiciously at my twin sister Ashlynn as we simultaneously emerged from our second-floor bedrooms. A good majority of the time, if we were in trouble, it was because of something she’d done. I was much better at not getting caught.

She shook her head and glanced down at the cellphone in her hand with a scowl on her face. The text from our mom informing us to get our asses downstairs immediately was still displayed on the screen.

“No, but I’m expecting a really important call shortly, so hopefully it doesn’t take too long,” she replied, blowing out an exasperated sigh as she shuffled her bare feet toward the staircase that separated our rooms.

I rolled my eyes and bit back a snarky retort about whoever her flavor-of-the-week was and how
important
listening to each other breathe on the phone could possibly be, then quietly followed her down the steps to where our mom and dad waited for us in the formal dining room. If we were already in trouble, I didn’t need to pick a fight with Ashlynn to really piss our parents off.
Not the time to add fuel to the fire, Everett.

Turning the corner from the entry hall into the room typically reserved for holiday meals and serious family discussions, I was immediately suspicious when neither Mom nor Dad seemed mad or upset at all. In fact, excitement and eagerness painted their expressions, both of them standing rather than sitting, as if they were overflowing with enthusiasm about whatever they had to say.

Ashlynn and I exchanged a quick puzzled glance then returned our focus to them, waiting for an explanation. It wasn’t that our parents were unhappy people or didn’t smile a lot, because it was quite the opposite actually; they were normally fun-loving, cool-as-hell people who really enjoyed life. We just associated the dining room with solemn or somber conversations like when they’d told us Sassy, our German Shepherd, had died a few years back, or when they took away our cars for a week after finding out about the party we’d thrown while they were out of town
.

No, this was definitely weird. Happy conversations took place in the kitchen. That was my parents’ favorite room in the house.

“Everett,” Mom began, flashing her bright smile at me before her elated gaze moved to meet my sister’s. “Ashlynn.” She grinned over at Dad and reached down to grab his hand, the anticipation growing with every passing second. I had no idea what was going on, but she was killing me with this drawn-out shit.

“As you guys know, Dad and the guys stopped touring the summer before y’all started kindergarten, because it was really important for him that we planted our roots somewhere and live together as a family while you guys you were in school.”

I nodded along with my sister, still confused as hell. Though we were too young to remember most of the first five years of our lives as we traveled on tour with our dad’s band, Jobu’s Rum, we were well aware of his adamancy about us having a consistent home environment and a “normal” school experience. Well, as normal as can be when you’re the offspring of rock god Mason Templeton.

“Well, since y’all only have eight months left until you graduate high school, the band has decided—”

“Oh, for chrissakes, Scarlett,” my dad cut in with a deep chuckle, “spit it out already, woman! Just tell ‘em we’re going back on tour next summer and that the label wants Singed Wings to open for us.”

My jaw hit the floor at the same time my sister shrieked so loud that I was surprised every window in the house didn’t shatter. He had to be joking. There was no way…

Singed Wings — the duo my sister and I had formed our freshman year after making music together practically our entire childhood — was going on tour. Opening for Grammy-winning, platinum-selling recording artists Jobu’s Rum. I couldn’t fucking believe it.

“Ar-are you serious?” I sputtered, my eyes as wide as saucers while my chest pounded a heavy bass line.

Laughing, he shook his head over at where Mom and Ashlynn were squealing like little girls and jumping up and down in a circle. “Yeah,” Dad nodded, his face lit up with a proud smile, “I wouldn’t pull your chain about somethin’ like that, son. I know how much this means to you. How hard you’ve worked. It’s time to see if you’ve got what it takes.”

“But how? They haven’t even heard us play?” I ran my trembling fingers through my thick, dark waves, tugging on them, needing to feel the sharp pain in my scalp to confirm I wasn’t dreaming.

My dad cocked his eyebrow at me and made a
tsk-tsk
sound. “The label has been begging me to go back on tour from the day I told them I was done twelve years ago. If I tell them I want my kids’ band to open for us, then my kids’ band is gonna damn well open for us. Your music is good. Great even. The world should hear it. And I’m gonna give you guys the chance. What you do from there is up to the two of y’all.”

“What about college? And the house here? How will it all work? Will we all be on a bus together? And the rest of the guys? Their families? When does it start?” The questions fell from my mouth in one breath as my brain finally started to process the news.

We were going on tour. All over the world. Sold-out crowds. The best venues. I could play music day and night and get paid for it. My dream.

“The tour is for nine months — six in the states then three international, including Europe, Asia, and South America. Opening night is in LA, last weekend in June. We’ll leave right after graduation to start three weeks of straight promotion," Mom answered, still holding a beaming Ashlynn close to her. “You guys will have to forego your first year of college, which isn’t ideal in my mind,” she paused, exchanging a look with Dad that said they’d discussed this at length, “but I understand this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I think it will be a good gauge to see how you adapt to life on the road.”

My sister snickered. “You mean, you guys will be there, so we can’t get in trouble.”

“So you can’t get in
too much
trouble,” Dad corrected, with a curt shake of his head, but kept his tone teasing. “We’re right here with you guys now, yet you both still seem to find your share of shit to stir.”

“And at the end of the tour, we can decide what the next step is,” Mom added. “I still think you’re both too young—”

“We’ll be eighteen in February, Mom,” Ashlynn interjected, backing away from her slightly. “Adults. You know, make-our-own-decisions adults.”

Narrowing her gaze at my sister, Mom crossed her arms defensively. Their shared jubilation was short-lived. “Yes, I’m well aware of what you turning eighteen means, but you’re still my babies. And I’m always gonna want what’s best for you. I don’t care if you’re turning fifty-eight; I
will
voice my opinion.”

“But, I
won’t
have to listen.”


Enough!”
My dad raised his hands in the air, putting a stop to what would’ve most likely turned into a spat between Mom and Ashlynn. “I refuse to let y’all ruin this happy day with that petty bickering shit you do all the damn time. We should be excited, celebrating as a family. Everyone go get dressed. We’ll talk about the rest of it over dinner. Without arguing.”

Ever since we’d entered high school, the two of them were constantly at odds, always squabbling about the stupidest of things. When we were little, it was no secret that Ashlynn was a Daddy’s girl, just as much as I was a Momma’s boy, but as I got older, my relationship with my dad strengthened. We had more in common like music and cars and fishing. The years, however, only seemed to increase the separation between the two females in the house. And the more Mom pushed, the more Ashlynn pushed back. It was bound to come to a head at some point. I just hoped I wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity when it happened.

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