We all moved to the kitchen to eat, and I sat directly across from Kiera’s dad. I would get this man to smile at me before my time here was through. Kiera sweetly prepared some coffee for me while I debated what to say. I wasn’t completely unprepared though. For the past few days, I’d quizzed everyone I could find about different sports. They’d all looked at me funny, like they thought I should already know that shit, but I’d never really paid attention. Quite the opposite…just to childishly stick it to my dad, I’d purposely ignored every single sport there was. Now I kind of regretted that decision. Because I had a theory on Mr. Allen. Denny loved sports, and if he’d bonded with this man…that was probably how he’d done it. I wasn’t 100 percent sure, and I wasn’t about to ask Denny for advice, but it seemed like a fair assumption.

Taking a chance, I asked him which Ohio baseball team was his favorite—the Cincinnati Reds or the Cleveland Indians. He almost smiled…but then he stopped himself, shrugged, then halfheartedly told me, “The Reds are all right.”

I knew he was playing down his interest, so I dove into the conversation, just trying to get him to warm up to me. I used up just about every fact I knew about the team, and the game in general, but he didn’t seem to notice that I didn’t really have a clue, and by the time everyone was seated, and we were passing the food around the table, I actually felt like I’d made a small dent in his armor. Until he started asking me questions.

“So, Kiera tells us you are in a…band?”

The way he said it was almost a sneer. I already knew he didn’t approve, so I made sure my response was extra nice. “Yes, sir,” I said, smiling as I handed Kiera the plate of bacon. “We’re on tour right now. Our next show is on New Year’s Eve in D.C.”

I glanced at Kiera and watched her slump a little. I felt the same. It was days away, but still, it was far too soon. Kiera’s dad was the only one who seemed heartened by the news. “Oh, so you’ll be away a lot…on this tour thing?”

Anna glared at him as she handed me the plate of cinnamon rolls. Sadness washed over me as the truth in his question struck me. “Yes,” I told him. Unfortunately. After taking a roll, I gave the plate to Kiera. Our fingers touched and I rubbed an apology into her skin. I would stay if I could. She gave me a small nod, like she understood.

Kiera’s dad smiled, but I wasn’t claiming that one as a victory. “Oh, well, that’s good that you’re finding success.”