Scott stumbled into bed, not completely sure what time it was, but the light slipping past his curtains was not a good sign. It meant that his parents would be in shortly to harass him about going to school. It was funny how they still thought that kind of thing mattered. Hadn’t they figured out yet that details of the War of 1812 or Pythagoras’s theorem weren’t going to get him a job?

Besides, Scott already had one of those, and it paid him a whole heck of a lot more than anything else he’d ever go after. Even more than his parents’ jobs. Combined. A lot more.

Knock-knock.

At least they still bothered to announce their presence. As if they cared about his privacy. As if they didn’t try to control every aspect of his life.

Scott didn’t answer, instead closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. Better to pretend to be asleep. He was so tired in another minute he wouldn’t have to fake it.

But he heard the knob twisting. The door opening. The soft footsteps of his mother. At least it was her. Now there was a chance of him staying home.

The bed sank on one edge as his mom sat, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She smelled like her favorite cucumber lotion.

“Hey, Scotty, rise and shine.”

He groaned in response, like she’d just woken him.

“Nice try, but no getting out of it today. Not if you’re going to graduate.”

Scott opened his eyes and flopped over, so he could see his mom. She was dressed in her usual pantsuit, ready to go to the law office. Scott had told her she didn’t need to work as a legal assistant anymore—a job she hated. He’d take care of her. But she refused to quit.

“What’s the point, Mom? I already know everything there is to making it in life, and I didn’t need a piece of paper to do it. Besides, I have my private tutor when I’m on the road. That counts toward graduation, right?”

Her lips pursed. They’d had this conversation many times, and neither had managed to sway the other to their point of view.

“If you’d actually listened to him and done the work, yes, it would have.” She paused. “I know you love music. And you’re crazy talented, and the world had the sense to notice it. But nothing can replace a good education. The entertainment industry is a fickle business, and there’s no guarantee that in five years you’ll still be playing sold-out stadiums.”

Yes, they’d had that conversation too.

“Then why did Matt’s parents give him full control of his career, including his finances? Jordan has full control too.”

His mom released a long sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Which is why you were out all night. Bungee jumping off Jordan’s roof. Three stories up. While his parents are out of town for their anniversary.”

So, she knew. That was fast, even for her.

“You could have been hurt,” she said, and Scott subconsciously touched one of the many bruises he’d gotten over the course of the evening. “Your friends… I know their parents are doing the best they can. This is uncharted territory for all of us. But Matt and Jordan spend their money as quickly as they make it, which is a feat with how well your band has been doing.”

Annoyance bubbled in Scott’s chest. “You make it sound like we’re still fourteen and playing in the garage.”

“I sometimes wish that were true,” his mom said, her voice sad. “You boys had so much fun. I never had to worry about where you were because you were either playing your hearts out in our garage or you were in the kitchen, eating everything you could get your hands on.” She paused. “Now? I pray every night that you’ll come home safe.”

Guilt pricked at Scott, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was seventeen, and he had made more money in the last three years than his parents had in the last twenty. Scott had also traveled further than either of them—had more experiences. Who were they to lecture him on finances or life choices? The problem was that they didn’t trust him. They never gave him a chance to prove himself, instead insisting that they knew best.

Once he turned eighteen, all that was going to change.

“I’m not going to school,” Scott said, then turned his back to his mom. He had some sleep to catch up on.

His mom didn’t leave. “You can’t hang in there for three more months? You’re so close.”

Three more months to the end of the school year, but only seventy-two days until his birthday. Not that he was counting.

Scott heard a sniffle and turned back to his mom. Her eyes were moist, a few stray tears making trails down her cheeks. He sat up all the way and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured. “I just… I can’t do it anymore. Not even for three months. You don’t know what it’s like to go to that school every day. If I still had Jordan and Matt, it might be different. But once they left…”

His mom surprised him by pulling away and standing. “They don’t go to school either?” She gave a small shake of her head. “This wasn’t the life I wanted for you. Or them. You were good kids.”

Before Scott could answer, she left, shutting the door behind her.

He had won that battle. No school for him today. So why did it feel like a loss? Scott snuggled back under his down comforter, but he couldn’t sleep, his mind now too busy, his mom’s words playing on repeat. Sure, he partied a bit and skipped school when he was tired and not wanting to deal with people. Which was nearly every day.

But he was still a good guy—wasn’t he?

* * * * *

Something was off.

A thick tension had settled over the house the past couple of weeks, and as Scott shoved his phone into his pocket, a sense of foreboding accompanied it. Hopefully, he could slip downstairs unnoticed. He’d been avoiding his parents whenever possible, and they seemed to be returning the favor. His mom didn’t even bother getting him up for school anymore.

Scott walked down the two flights of stairs from his room at the very top of the house. Most would say he lived in the attic, but he preferred “private quarters.” His parents sat in the front room, papers spread around them. Scott’s foot squeaked against the wood as he moved off the last step, and both their gazes swung toward him. His mom looked guilty.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

“Going out,” he said. “Don’t wait up.”

Scott knew his mom would stay up anyway. She couldn’t sleep whenever he was out late, no matter how many times he told her not to worry—that her staying up all night didn’t help either of them.

“Just a minute, Scott,” his dad said, straightening. “We have a couple of things to talk about before you go out with your friends.” When Scott opened his mouth to protest, his dad interrupted before he had the chance. “It’s important. And it needs to happen. Now.”

Scott’s dad was a manager of a local bank, and he knew how to deliver bad news. He had that same aura about him now, his gaze piercing.

Scott knew better than to argue with that look. He moved into the room and sat on the couch across from his parents. He hated that couch. It was eighteen years old—a gift to his mom when she was pregnant with him. His mom said it held memories, but Scott thought it probably held more dirt and dust than anything. He wished his parents would let him buy them a new couch. A new house. All the things they deserved but would never accept. Not from their seventeen-year-old son.

“You’re throwing away your future,” his dad started in, skipping any niceties. Scott supposed they were past those at this point.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m doing pretty well. New album. Going out on my third tour at the end of the summer. People can’t get enough of me.”

“But that won’t last forever,” his mom said, almost pleading. She was stuck on repeat, not knowing any other track. It was like she hoped this time would be the one he finally heard what she was trying to say. Scott did hear—he just didn’t agree. Plenty of music artists were able to move seamlessly through the decades, their music adapting to the times.

“We make our own destinies.” As soon as Scott said it, he knew it sounded like something you’d find on a cat poster.

“Scotty,” his mom tried one more time, but her words faltered, and whatever she was going to say seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Scott’s phone beeped with a new text. His ride was there. He stood from the couch and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Matt and Jordan are out front—”

“They can wait,” his dad said, a crispness to his tone. “We’re not done here.”

“But—”

His mom walked over and placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder, her voice soft. “Listen to what he has to say.” She pulled him so he sank onto the couch, but this time she sat with him, as if she were offering moral support.

Scott pulled his phone back out and shot a quick text, telling his friends to hold on a moment. Just as he tapped the send icon, his dad spoke.

“You’re going away for the summer.” His dad held up a hand, as if already anticipating the outburst Scott would have. Because there was no way there wasn’t going to be an outburst—no way Scott was going to accept those six little words without a fight. “I’ve already talked to your manager, and it’s worked out so your recording obligations will be finished before June, and I verified that you won’t leave for your tour until Labor Day weekend.”

“What, like bootcamp?” Scott asked, leaping back to his feet. “You can’t send me away. I’ll be eighteen.”

“Not bootcamp,” his mom said. “A summer job. It will be fun. Your last hurrah before going out into the world as an adult.” She was trying to cajole him, make it seem like it was something other than the fact that they were sending him away. It was probably that thing where they dropped troubled kids in the middle of the desert and made them figure out how to survive.

Hurrah.

Scott snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You haven’t been able to make me go to school. What makes you think I’ll agree to this?”

His dad also crossed his arms over his chest, matching Scott’s stance. “Because you want control over your money. Your own life. This is how you’re going to get it.”

A sliver of panic rose in his chest. Could they do that? He’d thought once he turned eighteen, everything would turn over to him. “You can’t do that. It’s not legal.”

“I’m currently a joint owner on your bank account. You need my signature for me to be removed from it.”

Scott’s mind raced. “But I can still take money out. I could remove all of it.”

“Not when your account is frozen.”

Scott’s thoughts froze with it.

He didn’t want to believe it possible, but his dad did manage a bank, and there was no way he’d do anything that could jeopardize his own career. His dad was a rule follower by nature and expected the same from Scott.

“Congratulations,” Scott finally said, giving his dad the slow clap. “You’ve managed to take my assets hostage. You’ve become a real master manipulator, pulling one over on your teenage son. I bet you feel real good about yourself now.”

His dad gave him a long stare, the hardness dissolving into something else indecipherable. Sadness, maybe. Except, Scott’s dad didn’t do sad. He did grumpy, angry, indifferent. But never sad. Until now.

“We just want what’s best for you. Want you to rediscover who you are. Someone other than the rock star.” His dad picked up a pamphlet from the table and walked it over to Scott. “It’s only for ten weeks. If you stick it out, I’ll sign everything you need.”

Scott gave in to his curiosity and took the pamphlet from his dad. A montage of pictures was splayed across the front. Someone riding a zipline. Another person rappelling over a cliff. Four-wheelers donned another page.

“What is this place?” It didn’t seem like a survival camp.

“A dude ranch. A place where people can ride horses, get out in nature, stay in cabins,” his mom said with a bright smile, though it seemed forced. “They’ve already told us they have a position for you. An activity guide. All you have to do is show up.”

“A dude ranch. Tour guide by day, cow tipping by night.”

Scott’s dad threw him a wry smile. “Something like that.”

Well, it could be worse. But he and his friends had plans. And they involved him not being sent away to learn to lasso.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not much to think about.”

Dreams of beach parties were quickly fading, being replaced by the image of him hot, sweaty, and alone in the middle of nowhere. Might as well be survival camp.

But his dad had made one thing clear.

Scott didn’t have a choice.

“Fine. I’ll go,” he said. “But I’m not going to forget this—the ultimatum you’ve given me. That’s not what parents do when they supposedly love their children.”

Scott’s phone chimed again, and a car horn blasted from the driveway. He didn’t say goodbye to his parents this time or tell his mom not to wait up.

He didn’t want anything to do with them right now. Not after what they’d done.

What he needed was a distraction. And Jordan and Matt were just the guys who could help him with that.