Just a little glimpse of what I have so far. What do you guys think?
Country singer Riley Green lives a loud life onstage, but the real story starts when the lights go out.
What began in 2020 as a business partnership with children’s designer Mallory Rian turned into marriage, two boys, and a life built somewhere between backroads and soft living. While Riley spends his days hunting, touring, and raising his sons to respect their mama, Mallory holds everything together with quiet strength, luxury, love, and a home that always feels safe to come back to.
From bedtime stories and tour buses to newborn cries and early mornings, The Life He Doesn’t Sing About is a soft, emotional look into the side of Riley Green the world never gets to see.
The Green house had finally settled again by the time Mallory made her second trip down the hallway that night, though this time it felt less like a battle and more like a slow surrender into routine. Noah was already half asleep before his head even hit the pillow, his earlier energy from the pool fading into soft little murmurs about frogs and imaginary ships, while Ayden moved in quieter steps behind him, rubbing at his eye in a way that made him look smaller than he was, like the day had simply become too long for his body to carry.
Mallory didn’t rush them this time. She never really did, even when exhaustion sat heavy in her bones. Instead, she took her time pulling blankets up over shoulders, smoothing down curls that refused to stay still, and listening to the slow rhythm of their breathing as the house began to return to stillness around them. Noah, even in his stubbornness, eventually gave in to sleep with a dramatic sigh that sounded almost like defeat, while Ayden settled without complaint, already drifting before she finished tucking him in.
“Night, Noey,” she whispered softly as she leaned down to press a kiss to Noah’s forehead.
His voice barely came back to her. “Night, Mommy”
Across the hall, she paused longer with Ayden, brushing her fingers gently through his hair.
“Night, Ayebae.”
A sleepy hum answered her. “Night.”
And just like that, the house returned to the quiet it had been waiting for all day.
Mallory stood in the hallway for a moment afterward, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe as she looked between both rooms, letting herself breathe in the stillness. There was always a strange kind of peace that came after chaos, not because the chaos was gone, but because it meant they had made it through another day together. Eventually she turned off the hallway light and made her way downstairs, where Carl was already stretched out across the living room floor like he had claimed it for himself, one eye open just enough to acknowledge her presence before closing again.
She sank onto the couch beside him, the exhaustion finally catching up with her now that she had stopped moving, and for a while she simply sat there in the dim glow of the kitchen light, listening to the quiet hum of the house and thinking about nothing in particular except the way tomorrow would arrive whether she was ready for it or not.
Morning came with sunlight slipping through the curtains and the familiar sound of small feet moving long before Mallory was ready to open her eyes. She didn’t even have to look to know what was coming. Noah appeared first, as always, full of morning energy that made no sense at all given how late he had fallen asleep the night before, while Ayden followed more slowly, still half wrapped in sleep, blinking like the world was too bright to be fully trusted yet.
“Mommy,” Noah announced immediately, standing at the side of the bed like he had been waiting for an appropriate time to wake her, “we have important plans today.”
Mallory groaned softly into her pillow. “Baby it is too early for plans.”
“It’s not early. It’s morning.”
“That’s the same thing Noey.”
Ayden finally spoke from the doorway, voice soft and calm in contrast to his brother. “No Jo wants snacks already.”
Mallory finally opened one eye. “Of course he does.”
Noah crossed his arms. “I need energy for shopping.”
Mallory slowly sat up, rubbing her face as she tried to process the conversation she had apparently been drafted into. “Shopping for what?”
Before Noah could answer, Carl came padding into the room, immediately alert the second he saw movement, tail already wagging as if he had been included in whatever decision making process was happening.
That alone told her everything she needed to know.
“Okay,” she said finally, sighing as she pushed the blankets aside, “everybody get dressed. If I’m being dragged into shopping plans before coffee, I need full participation from all involved parties.”
Noah gasped like this was the best thing he had ever heard.
Ayden just yawned.
Carl wagged harder.
By late morning, they were out of the house and already halfway through what Mallory had loosely categorized as “light shopping,” though that term quickly lost meaning the moment Noah had discovered he was allowed to pick out things for snacks and Ayden decided that he would be opinionated about everything in the store. Riley’s mom had joined them partway through, moving through aisles with the ease of someone who had long accepted that grocery trips with small children were less about efficiency and more about the survival.
Noah proudly explained every item he picked up as if he were making life-altering decisions, while Ayden quietly trailed behind, occasionally pointing out things with surprising seriousness, and Mallory found herself laughing more than she expected as the morning unfolded into something easy and ordinary in the best possible way.
Carl, of course, was banned from the store itself but acted as though he had suffered deeply from this injustice and now required emotional support snacks the moment they returned home.
By the time they made it back to the house, the afternoon sun was already warm over the backyard, turning the pool into something bright and inviting. The boys didn’t even make it inside before asking when they could go back out, and Mallory, still unloading bags onto the counter, simply pointed toward the backyard without looking up.
“Go change,” she said.
That was all it took.
The pool day resumed almost exactly where it had left off, as if the house itself had been waiting for them to return to it. Noah immediately took charge of imaginary games that involved far too much running and far too little safety, while Ayden settled into his usual role of observing before participating, slowly being pulled into chaos whether he agreed with it or not.
Carl had stationed himself at the edge of the pool like a guard dog who did not trust water, children, or happiness in general.
Mallory eventually settled into a lounge chair, sunglasses on, watching it all unfold with the kind of quiet contentment that only came when everything was exactly as loud as it needed to be.
That was when her phone rang. The name on the screen made her pause for just a second longer than she expected.
Johnathan Riley.
She answered immediately, shifting slightly in her chair as she brought the phone up. “Hey big head.”
His voice came through slightly tired but familiar in a way that softened everything around her instantly. “Hey mamas.”
Before she could respond, Noah was already moving.
“DADDY !”
Ayden followed a second later.
“Dad?”
And just like that, the pool, the sun, the entire backyard shifted into chaos again as both boys scrambled toward the phone, dripping water and excitement as Mallory barely managed to steady her grip.
Riley laughed through the speaker, the sound warm and full. “My number one fans .”
What followed was exactly what it always became the overlapping voices, excited explanations, interrupted sentences, Carl barking once like he felt personally included in the conversation, and Mallory sitting in the middle of it all, watching her family talk to the one person who always somehow made everything feel even more complete.
And for a moment, in the middle of summer heat and water splashing and laughter that didn’t quite settle, it felt like he wasn’t really gone at all.
By the time the clock above the kitchen stove flickered over to 10:43 p.m., Mallory had already lost count of how many times she had walked the same stretch of hardwood floor between the sink and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The house had finally settled into that familiar late-night quiet, the kind that never truly felt empty but instead carried the soft evidence of a full day lived inside its walls. Even now, there were reminders of her sons scattered everywhere she looked: a plastic cup left half-filled with water beside the couch, a small pair of socks abandoned near the base of the stairs, and a crayon drawing still taped unevenly to the refrigerator door, the colors slightly smudged where tiny hands had pressed too hard in excitement.
Mallory stood at the sink with warm water running over her fingers, slowly rinsing the last of the dishes from dinner while her thoughts drifted in the direction they always seemed to go at night. Somewhere far away, across state lines and time zones she no longer bothered keeping track of, Riley Green was standing under lights brighter than any kitchen bulb could ever hope to be. She could picture it without trying too hard, the roar of a crowd vibrating through an arena, guitars echoing through speakers, and her husband standing in the center of it all with that easy confidence that had first made the world fall in love with him long before she ever did.
It still struck her sometimes how different their lives looked depending on the hour of the day. While he spent his nights giving pieces of himself to thousands of strangers at a time, she spent hers navigating bedtime routines, negotiating with stubborn little boys who suddenly developed opinions about pajamas, and searching for stuffed animals that always seemed to disappear right when they were needed most. There were days when the contrast between their worlds made her laugh quietly to herself, not because it felt unfair, but because somehow, against all logic, it worked.
A soft vibration broke through her thoughts as her phone slid slightly against the counter. She didn’t need to look to know who it was, but she did anyway, and the name on the screen made something in her chest ease in the same familiar way it always did.
Johnathan Riley.
She answered before the second ring could finish. “Hey, you.”
There was a pause, followed by the low sound of his voice traveling through the speaker, slightly rough around the edges in the way it always was after a show. “Hey, mama,” he replied, and just like that, the distance between them felt a little smaller, even if only for a moment.
Mallory leaned back against the counter, letting herself settle into the sound of him the way she always did after long days apart. “You sound tired,” she said gently, though it wasn’t a question so much as an observation.
“I am tired,” he admitted, and she could hear the faint movement of people around him, the backstage chaos still alive in the background even though the show was clearly over. “But it was a good night. Crowd was loud, everything went smooth. I can’t complain.”
“You always say that,” she replied softly, a small smile tugging at her lips even though he couldn’t see it.
“Because it’s usually true.”
Mallory shook her head, though affection softened the gesture. “The boys had a big night too.”
That immediately shifted something in his tone, as it always did. “Yeah? What happened?”
She glanced down the hallway instinctively, lowering her voice slightly even though both boys were asleep. “Noah decided he was going to keep a frog as a pet. Fully planned it out. Named it. Explained its diet. The whole nine yards.”
Riley groaned through the phone, though she could hear the amusement underneath it. “Oh no. That sounds like trouble.”
“It was a very serious situation,” she said, holding back a laugh. “He almost had me convinced until he tried to bring it inside in his hoodie pocket.”
That earned a full laugh from him this time, warm and unfiltered, the kind that made her picture his head tilting back slightly the way it always did when something truly amused him. “That’s my boy,” he said proudly.
Mallory rolled her eyes even though she was smiling. “Absolutely not your boy. That is entirely your influence.”
“I take full credit.” he said without hesitation.
Before she could respond, the sound of small footsteps padded softly down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable presence of one of her sons appearing in the doorway. Ayden Tucker stood there in oversized pajamas, his curly hair in every direction as if sleep had tried and failed to settle him. Behind him, a second shadow appeared a moment later slightly smaller, slightly quieter, but equally determined Noah Johnathan , rubbing one eye with the back of his hand as though he had been unfairly interrupted from something very important.
Mallory exhaled softly, already knowing what was coming before they even spoke.
“Daddy?” Ayden ’s voice came first, quiet but hopeful, like he wasn’t entirely sure if the sound of his father would still be waiting on the other end of the phone.
Riley must have heard it immediately because his tone changed instantly, softening in a way that only ever happened with them. “Hey, buddy.”
That was all it took.
Both boys were suddenly awake in a way that defied all logic, scrambling closer to the phone as Mallory adjusted her grip so they could see. What followed was the familiar chaos she had come to expect whenever Riley called. Two overlapping voices trying to explain everything that had happened in their day at once, interruptions mid-sentence, dramatic retellings of extremely minor events, and Riley listening to every word like it mattered more than anything else in his world.
Mallory stood quietly in the middle of it all, watching them with a softness she didn’t try to hide. Because no matter how loud the house got in moments like this, no matter how exhausting the days could be, this was what it always came back to. Not fame. Not schedules. Not even the distance.
Just family.
And somewhere on the other end of the phone, Riley Green smiled like a man who already knew he was exactly where he was meant to be, even if he wasn’t physically home yet.
When a woman is consistently spoken to softly & treated gently, she becomes a new woman. You're helping her heal her nervous system, you're helping her heal generational trauma, you're allowing her feminine energy to flourish, you're helping her to remember who she is.
All I think about is love. Giving love, making love, embodying love, loving to the highest degree, being loved. Love consumes me, love runs me, love is me.
Please, keep looking. Not for a person, but for your passion, your love, your courage, your goals, your dreams, your happiness, yourself. Keep looking. Explore yourself before you explore another. Know your worth, know yourself. Only then will you know what you need over what you want. You need yourself to become your own.
dededos
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
areudirty
