But even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to take that pill. She’d stared at the thing all that night, trying to talk herself into it, knowing it’d be the saner path. But then she’d flash back to when she’d been at the clinic at seventeen. She’d been way less equipped at that time than she was now. If that girl could handle an unexpected pregnancy, this one could, too.
And all the worry was probably for naught anyway. It’d been one broken condom. She was older, surely less fertile. She had friends her age who’d tried for months and sometimes years to get pregnant. It didn’t happen that easily.
But the what-ifs were going to kill her.
Pike was going to kill her.
Sharing a room with him and not going to him was proving to be an exercise in torture. The drama between them hadn’t quelled the effect their night had had on her. She’d fallen for the guy—recklessly and totally. Stupidly. She’d been halfway there already, but when he’d stayed up to watch over Rae, she’d been a goddamned goner. She’d failed the casual-hookup test spectacularly.
“Why don’t you try to sing it, Reagan?”
The question broke Oakley away from the nonstop hamster wheel of her thoughts. She looked over at Pike, who’d positioned Rae in front of a microphone.
Rae glanced over at her, worry in her eyes. “I’m not the singer.”
“I know,” Pike said. “But Madison has a cold, and I think this song might be better suited for your voice. Just give it a try and see.”
Reagan wet her lips, clearly tempted. The poor girl had been chomping at the bit since they’d gotten here, but her cast prevented her from playing her guitar and participating. “Mom, what do you think?”
Pike’s eyes met hers.
Oakley’s knee-jerk response couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know, baby.”
The thought of Reagan’s voice being recorded and out in the world could open her up to all kinds of attention. Oakley knew her daughter had something special, and Oakley’s instinct was to cocoon her from all that. She didn’t want Rae to even have a chance at being sucked into that world like she was.
Reagan’s head dipped. “It’s okay, Mr. Pike. I don’t think my voice is good enough for the song anyway.”
Her daughter’s response hit Oakley right in the chest. And Pike’s words rang in her ear—Reagan doesn’t think you like her singing.
God. The last thing Oakley wanted was for her daughter to think she didn’t believe in her or see her talent as beautiful. Reagan stepped away from the mic, shoulders hunched.
“Wait.” Oakley’s voice came out too loud and all the kids turned her way, including Rae. She walked over to her daughter and put a hand on her cheek. She had to work to get the words past her tight throat, but she knew they had to be said. “No, you should sing it, Rae. You’d sound amazing on this one. I know you would.”
Reagan’s eyebrows knitted, suspicious. “Really?”
Oakley smiled. “Really. Give it a try.”
In her periphery, she caught Pike’s lips curling upward. He stepped closer, putting a hand on Oakley’s elbow and squeezing as he moved past her. “All right, kiddo. Let’s get your headphones on so you can rock this.”
Oakley and the rest of the kids moved to the room on the other side of the glass, and Pike got Rae set up to record. Oakley grabbed a set of headphones so she could hear better and the music started. It was Oakley’s original music and the kids’ lyrics laid on top of it. But all of that faded into the background as her daughter began to sing.
She hadn’t heard Rae really open up in longer than she could remember. So when the words came through, her voice clear and pure and stunning, tears jumped to Oakley’s eyes. The voice she’d remembered as that of a talented little girl had morphed since she’d last heard it into one of an older-than-her-years songstress—rich and textured and effortlessly on key.
My God.
Pike’s gaze found hers through the window. She shook her head in awe and he gave her a little nod. Not an I-told-you-so nod but a reverent one, like he agreed that they were both in the presence of something special.
The other children in the group had gone still and quiet around her as they shared headsets and listened in. It was no longer a question of who should sing this song for the group. They’d found their voice.
Rae had found her voice.
Oakley watched as Reagan, who was a few rows in front of her on the bus, chatted with one of the boys from the group. They’d wrapped up at the studio, laying down a rough version of the main song, and were headed back to Bluebonnet. Normally, Rae would’ve sat with her, preferring her mother’s company to the stress of having to interact with other kids. But Rae seemed to be getting more and more comfortable with the group. She could bond with them over music and have a common topic to talk about. A few years ago, Oakley would’ve never dared to hope that her daughter could navigate being in such a group, but Rae was finding her place in the world and learning how to be in it in her own unique way.
Oakley leaned back, a small shred of peace coming over her, and she turned her attention to the evening traffic that crept past the windows. But the peace was short-lived. Her seat bounced and she turned to find Pike sliding into the spot next to her.
“This seat taken?”
His hazel eyes were golden in the muted sunlight of the bus windows. She could see the green flecks, the striations of