The Way Back

Destiny Rules - Epilogue

The petite blonde breathed in the sweet, woodsy scent of Nag Champa lingering through the house. She chewed her lip and debated her options. She decided not to dash up the stairs and change out of her riding apparel. She strode to the door as her brown eyes flashed towards the sign plastered on the frame.

PLEASE ENTER QUIETLY – RECORDING IN LIVING ROOM. Thank you – The Management.

She listened to the drum beat that seemed to be in rhythm with her heartbeat, the steady thump of the bass, and an occasional guitar riff. She didn't recognize the music, and she'd heard every demo for months. She let her fingers hover over the doorknob and glanced at the sign with a sly smirk curling over her lips. She would take the quickest route, always favoring the fastest way since patience wasn't her greatest virtue. The girl turned the knob, bounding into the room. "Daddy!" She ignored her father's grumblings as the drumbeat abruptly halted, waving and grinning at the other men in the room.

He felt like slamming his head onto the soundboard. Lindsey cursed himself for the brilliant idea of making an album at home. He had spent hours trying to record one song and should have known it wouldn't be a good day to make music when the dogs began barking as soon as Mick's sticks pounded the drums. The men had given up a half hour ago on recording. He set his guitar aside, turning in his chair and folding his arms over his chest as he peered at his daughter. "Emalie, we were recording."

"No, you weren't. You were dicking around."

His eyes widened at her choice of words. "Emalie Reese," he hissed disapprovingly, glaring at John as the man snickered and lit a cigarette.

"That's what mama says," she replied innocently.

Lindsey propped his elbows on the soundboard, dragging his palm over his face. He shook his head. Most days, he wasn't sure if Stevie or the miniature version of her caused the gray hairs on his head. "You don't have to repeat everything your mother says, Em."

She shrugged her shoulders and stepped towards him. "Daddy," she spoke softly.

He recognized the hesitant, saccharine tone and saw how her eyes glistened with hope. He heard that tone whenever his girls wanted something and needed his permission. Lindsey didn't know why two out of the three bothered to ask considering the blondes usually did what they wanted regardless of what he said. "No."

"Daddy, you don't even know what I was going to say. Well, ask," Emalie clarified.

"I don't need to know," he told her and swiveled in his chair.

"But Daddy!" she pleaded and closed the distance between them. Emalie wheeled the chair around, smiling as she came face to face with him. "Hear me out, please," she requested sweetly and climbed into his lap. "Please, daddy," she whispered. Emalie put her head against his shoulder and batted her long lashes as she gazed up at him. "Please."

Lindsey smirked as his little girl's efforts to butter him up. He knew the act backwards and forwards. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "The answer is no, Emalie," he solemnly told her.

She pursed her lips into a scowl and scrambled out of his lap. "Fine! I'll ask mama!" she cried and heard her brother's laughter. Emalie glared at Seth and stomped out of the room.

"Mama's making tea," Seth informed his sister.

Emalie muttered her appreciation and maneuvered through the maze of equipment. She heard her mother's assistant's laughter coming from the kitchen and stepped in. "Mama, are you busy?" she asked, sliding over to her mother.

"No, baby. I'm done for the day." Stevie glanced down at Emalie. "Karen was telling me about your morning and how you tried to get a soy vanilla latte before going to the barn."