Page 142 of Sing For Me

Will

“Take a walk with me?”

She looks down to the beach, then back at me, before nodding once. I open the gate to the steps that will lead us to the sand and she only hesitates for a second before she walks through ahead of me.

I kick off my shoes and socks at the base of the steps. Eva is already barefoot and I’m hit with a memory so strong I have to stop to catch my breath—Eva sitting on my couch watching that stupid sci-fi show, her legs tucked up to her chest, pale pink toenails winking at me from under the fabric of her sundress.

“Will?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I try to get my shit together, gesturing at her to choose a direction. We walk in silence for a few minutes, both of our attention on the stunning sunset over the ocean, while I attempt to drum up the courage to tell her what needs to be said.

Eva gets impatient. “Will—”

“Remember when we ate at Ollie’s and talked about our favorite burgers?”

She stumbles in the sand, caught off guard, but pulls away when I try to steady her—and God does that sting, her not wanting me to touch her.

“What about it?”

I swallow, trying to stay on track. “I told you that I had burgers at Sin Bin for the first time on tour with my uncles,” I say. “But those awesome burgers weren’t the only thing we found on that trip.” I take a deep breath, feeling the heat of her gaze on the side of my face. “There was this shitty little pub Reed kept talking about. Kind of a dive place but they served food and they sometimes had live music, so me and him and Wyatt went in. And that’s where I saw Skye for the first time.”

“Skye…the person you told me you lost?”

I remembered saying that to her, all those weeks ago when she told me she was too messed up for a relationship. I think that’s the only time I ever mentioned Skye, and I’m struck by a pang of regret that I kept so much closed off from Eva.

I nod. “Skye was singing when we walked in and I stopped in my tracks. Reed laughed at me, teased me about having a crush, but it was so much more than that. Her voice…” I shake my head. “She was amazing. She really was. I just knew, the minute I heard her, that she could really be something, you know? And I wanted my dad and uncles to sign her to their label.”

“How old was she?”

“Sixteen. Same age as me.”

Eva blows out a breath. “That’s pretty young to get started in the business.”

I wait for the familiar rush of guilt to hit me. But it seems to have lost some of its strength. “I begged them to invite her to their show the next night. I was positive that if they all heard her sing, they’d sign her. I was pretty obnoxious about it, but Reed backed me up, told the others she was that good.” I swallow. “Even after she sang for them, Daltrey and Lennon weren’t convinced. They knew she was talented, but they worried she was too young. But, ah, I managed to talk my Dad and Reed into it, and once they were on board, the others went along.”

The familiar regret zips through me. How might things have been different if I hadn’t pushed so hard? If I hadn’t been so insistent?

“It took nothing to convince her parents. Moving out to LA, working with vocal coaches, cutting a demo. They didn’t protest over any of it. They encouraged it. That should have been a pretty big red flag.”

“They weren’t decent people?”

I let out a bitter laugh. I’ve come a long way in forgiving my dad and uncles, even in forgiving myself, but I don’t think I’ll ever have it in me to offer up a shred of forgiveness for Joan and Roger Clayton.

“They were using her. Had been, for years. They used to have her busking out on corners when she was barely a teenager. Her dad was a drunk. Her mom just saw her kid as a ticket into the finer things in life. Especially when the famous Ransome family came calling. That woman had dollar signs in her eyes from the minute we approached them.”

“That really sucks.”

“Yeah. They didn’t look out for her. Hell, they encouraged her into some shitty situations. They hired this manager my dad would have never worked with—that was the first big alarm bell. The guy introduced her to a bunch of people she should have never been in the same room with. Got Skye and her mom into all these industry parties—”

“Her mom went partying with her? When she was sixteen?”

“All the fucking time.” I can hear the bitterness in my voice. “She knew Skye was using way before I did.”

“Shit,” Eva murmurs. “I’m sorry, Will.”

I nod, eyes fixed on the horizon. “When it became obvious she was on drugs, my family tried to get her help. Eventually they gave her an ultimatum—go to rehab or they’d pull her album. Her parents responded by shopping her to other labels.”

“They didn’t agree she should go?”