Before I finish that nifty little speech, everything inside me is bouncing around like a ping-pong ball and I can feel I’m all glassy-eyed with threatening tears.

Graham purses his lips as if debating what he should say. “If he were, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

I lean toward him, anxious. “Are you saying he’s not?”

“I’m not saying anything,” he says on a semi-growl. “Kaley, I can’t talk about this. Not what your dad does, who he sees or where he goes. We all sign nondisclosure agreements. I’ve given my word, personally and legally, not to talk to anyone about what I see and hear. That means not even to you.”

I cross my arms. “Don’t pull that with me. I’m not just anyone. I’m his daughter.”

His cheek twitches. “The NDA applies even to you.”

We square off with our eyes and I can see that not answering me isn’t easy for him—it restores his status with me, but doesn’t help anything.

He breaks eye contact first, leans back in his chair, exhales loudly and runs his fingers through his hair.

“I can see how much pain you’re in all the time, Kaley,” he says slowly. “I hate seeing you hurt and worried and thinking badly of yourself. I’m not just your bodyguard. I think of us as friends, and I would answer every question you asked me if I could.”

Oh shoot, now I want to cry. I hug my legs, lay my cheek on my knees, and close my eyes, hoping to will the tears away. I can feel him watching me.

“I have an idea,” Graham says and I open my eyes. “How I can answer you without answering you so I don’t breach my NDA.”

He grabs the laptop and clicks on something, and angles the screen between us. He’s opened a video.

“Do you know why your dad is so mesmerizing when he’s on stage?”

I sit up, shaking my head.

“He’s totally, nakedly exposed, emotionally and spiritually, the second he gets near a microphone. All of him openly revealed for everyone to see. Who he is, the man he rarely shows, and he is an amazing man. Never doubt that, sweetheart.”

I study him, not sure where he’s going with this.

He hits play and concert footage I shot two weeks ago starts.

“He’s never done this cover before on stage. He just started closing the show with this song this leg of the tour. I know it’s from back in the day, but it gave me chills the first time I heard him sing it. So much of him out there for everyone to see in six minutes on stage. Do you know the song? The lyrics?”

I nod. Scorpions, “Still Loving You.”

“Have you ever truly listened to him when he sings it?”

Frustrated, not seeing the point in this, I roll my eyes. “Of course. About gazillion times since we’ve been on the road. I shot that video. Yes, I’ve listened to him sing it.”

Graham’s eyes sharpen. “But have you heard him?”

My eyes flash.

He lets out a frustrated groan and stands. “Give me your hands, Kaley. Up. Up. Up.”

I make a face. “Up. Up. Up.”

But I stand anyway and before I know what he’s doing I’m folded against his chest with his powerful arms surrounding me.

I try to step back. “What are you doing? Jeez, Graham, everyone is staring at us. I don’t need the press writing more wrong stories or people inventing new gossip about me.”

“Forget them. I’m answering you the only way I can, sweetie. Close your eyes, empty your mind, let go of everything and really hear your dad when he sings.”

He starts moving me gently as if we’re dancing. This is so humiliating. His cheek presses against my head and, oh crap, he’s singing along.

His lips move in my hair. “You know the words. Don’t just hear them. Sing them like I am. Feel them the way he feels them. He’s telling you so much, sweetheart, things he will never say directly, and you can’t hear him.”

We move and we’re singing, and then he eases back, holding my face in his palms, his eyes intense as they fix on mine. “I will be there. I will be there.”

He takes me back against him and I hide my face against his chest, hearing him sing now and again as he moves me slowly in the tight cocoon of his body.

I hadn’t really listened to my dad.

Graham’s right.

It’s like being drawn into a whirlpool and feeling all things Alan Manzone. You just have to want to hear it to hear him. A splattering of tears trickles down my cheeks because I know why Graham did this, but beyond what this tells me about how Alan feels about Mom, what I hear most is how much my father hurts and I know—though not completely—I caused a lot of it.

“Everything is going to be all right, Kaley,” Graham whispers, his lips moving in my hair close to my ear. “I’m still loving you. Does that sound like a man thinking about walking out on his marriage? And does that sound like a father unable to forgive his daughter? He’s not going to let go of either of you, not ever. He loves you both.”

The tears give way like a tidal wave.

I let them drain from me.

He slowly caresses my back.

“It’s all right, Kaley. Let it out. Their marriage is not your weight to carry. Put it down and walk away. That’s the best thing you can do for your family.”

*  *  *

Sydney, Australia, three days later

I sit in the hotel room with my head on the table, using my arm as a pillow, surrounded by my brothers and sisters, and pretending to do homework.

This is so freaking stupid. It’s like study hall. I don’t need group educational hour à la Mrs. Barton, with her sitting in the chair making sure we don’t talk or goof off. I’m freaking eighteen years old.

Krystal copies my posture, facing me, in that time-for-a-covert-sister-conversation way. “How did you get access to the Internet?” she asks suspiciously.

I give her the wide-eyed innocent stare.

Her eyes grow intense. “I hacked into your cloud. You’ve been uploading things. Pictures. Videos. All kinds of stuff.”

Oh fuck.

“Krystal, how could you hack into my private junk? That is such a violation of the sister rules.”

“Really? You’re asking me that? And how was pretty easy. I cracked your password in like a half second.”

Inwardly, I groan.

“You’re not going to tell Alan on me are you?” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

I smile.

“What computer have you been using?” she asks.

“Sometimes yours, but Graham lent me one about a week ago. It’s hidden in my suitcase.”

Krystal’s eyes widen. “You used mine? How? It’s password protected.”

I lift my brows. “I cracked your password in like a half second.”

Krystal’s eyes flash, and then she laughs. “I’m glad we’re talking again.”

“Me, too, baby girl.”

“Everything is finally getting good. Dad seems really happy the last few days. I think he’s calling and texting Mom. I think they’re talking again. He’s on his phone all the time.”

I frown. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“That’s because you are always cutting out on the family stuff”—she makes her silly lovey-dovey expression—“so you can hang out alone with Graham.”

I glare. “That’s not true.”

“It is so true and Graham is totally not interested in you. You’re just too vain to see it.” Krystal grows serious. “Are you and Bobby talking yet?”

I shake my head.

“I thought maybe you were. You’ve seemed kind of happier, too, lately.” Krystal makes a compassionate face. “It’ll be OK, Kaley. If Mom and Dad can start talking again anything is possible.”

“I hope you’re right. I miss Bobby so much.” I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. “You’re a pretty good sister.”

“You’re a pretty good sister, too.” She makes a comical face that so resembles Chrissie. “Someone around here has to be the calm, logical one. You, Mom and Dad are definitely the extreme, unpredictable personalities.”

I start to laugh and then choke it back when I see Mrs. Barton glaring at us.