by Lisa Suzanne
“Is he contagious?” Hannah asks.
The doctor shakes his head. “If he develops a cold from the infection, that will be contagious. But the infection itself is not.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Hannah says, and then the doc gives a few more instructions. We both let out deep sighs of relief as a nurse returns with the meds and discharge papers, and we’re on our way back to the hotel a little before two in the morning.
Her words come back to me in the car as we travel back. I don’t know which risk is bigger—trying this with her or not giving it a try.
Every relationship I’ve ever been in has failed with the exception of the guys in my band. I was in other bands. Those failed. I tried to stay with the same women longer than a single night. It failed every time. Even my relationship with my family is one big fat fucking fail.
Hannah clutched the sleeping baby to her chest in the hospital, and I had the sudden urge to hug him to mine, too. I’ve only held him a few times, but the relief is enough to tell me that somehow, I care. Out of nowhere, this kid and this chick walked into my life, a life I was perfectly content with, and they tilted it.
I thought there was no chance in hell that I’d ever want kids, but now that I have one...I want to get to know him. I want to experience fatherhood. I want to be a guy this kid can look up to instead of the mess I’d allowed myself to become. I want to drop everything to be there for him, and not just when he needs me like I did tonight, but always.
And maybe some of that starts with giving this thing with Hannah a try. If we communicate our expectations and neither of us go in blind, maybe we can figure out a way to make it work. And if it doesn’t go well, maybe we can leave it behind us and still find a way to make our situation work.
She kisses the top of the baby’s head just before she lays him in the crib every night. Once we’re back at the hotel, I stand beside her for this usual routine. I nod toward him, and she hands him to me. I hug him close to me, and then I lay him down in the crib.
Her eyes are on me when I turn to look at her, and hers are full of emotion. She turns away from me and heads out to the living area of our suite, swiping at her eyes. When she turns to face me out there, her eyes are red and I can see the emotion written all over her pretty face.
I move toward her and pull her into my arms, and her arms come immediately around my waist. I lean down to breathe in her coconut hair as I try to act like I’m simply letting out a sigh of relief after the scare we just had.
But it’s more than that. So much more. It’s the comfort of having her close. The coconut calms me, and the feel of her frame against mine quiets the tempest.
She breathes in deeply and lets it go, too, and I wonder whether she was doing the same thing I was in drawing in a sip of my scent through her nose.
“I’m glad he’s okay,” I murmur.
“Me too. We did the right thing bringing him in.”
“I don’t know how to be a parent,” I say, and I don’t try to hide the fear in my tone. I want to expose what’s in my heart the same way she did to me at the hospital.
“Neither do I. But I think maybe nobody does. It seems to be a learn as you go kind of thing.”
“Kind of like life,” I mutter.
She nods against me and then she pulls back a bit to look me in the eyes, her arms still wrapped around me and mine around her. “Exactly like that.”
Only one dim lamp in the corner lights the entire room, but I can still see the emotion on her pretty face. When I mentioned to her how different she is than the usual plastics I’ve been with, I failed to mention her beauty. I didn’t want to make it about appearances because her physical beauty isn’t what draws me to her.
But it’s still there, luring me in ways I hadn’t expected the night I named her Mousy Chick in my phone. She’s not mousy at all. In fact, it’s her quiet beauty that’s one of the most beautiful things about her. She doesn’t need big fake tits or fillers in her lips, and she doesn’t need weekly facials or manicures. She just simply needs to be, and that’s gorgeous in and of itself.
Her eyes flick down to my lips, and I can’t help but think how goddamn much I want to kiss her. How much I need to kiss her.
I reach up and cup my hand around her neck, her skin soft and delicate beneath my calloused hands. Her eyes flick back to mine, and hers have the smallest bit of fear in them as they heat over with anticipation. I lower my face toward hers, and I nuzzle her nose with mine for just a beat as my chest tightens.
She may not be the mousy girl I first thought she was, but she’s still a bit like a dear caught in headlights. I need to take this slow even though every nerve in my body screams at me to get inside her any way I can. Mouth on mouth first, and then we’ll work on the rest.
Slowly.
I finally brush my lips to hers, and that lip gloss she wears is coconut flavored and Jesus Christ I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at another coconut again without thinking of her and getting a boner.
But there’s something more at play here than just being turned on. I feel it in the knots in my stomach—knots I’m not sure I’ve felt before around a woman. At least not in the last decade. Maybe back when I was a high school junior and I asked senior Jasmine Kelly to the prom and I tried to kiss her during our first dance.
My fingers curl around her neck then move up into her hair as my lips are firm against hers. We kiss with our mouths closed a few seconds, and then I press gently at the seam of her lips with my tongue as I open my mouth to hers. She gives me access as she moves slowly and tentatively, but then she opens her mouth and moves her tongue to brush mine.
She tightens her hold around my waist as my one hand grips her hip and the other grips her hair, and God do I want this to lead into a bed, but I can’t. Not with her. Not tonight. She deserves more than a quick fuck and duck, particularly after we both overcame the terror of taking a baby to a hospital.
And I will give her more, just not tonight.
Besides, half the fun of all this will be the anticipation...if by fun I actually mean torture.
I keep the kiss slow and sensual, and then even though I feel like I could kiss her forever, I taper it off. I close my mouth, and we share another few beats of lip on lip, and then I pull back. I look down at her, and her eyes are still closed as if she’s savoring the moment, her lips are just a little puffy from our kiss, her cheeks are rosy, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life.
I mentally record the image for the days I know are ahead—the ones where the fear of a relationship trample over the potential rewards of one, the ones where I’m tempted by somebody else, the ones where we fight over how to parent a kid that belongs to me even though she’s far better for him.
I know those days are ahead, and at this moment given how I’m starting to feel about her, I hope I’m strong enough to find a way through them.
CHAPTER 30: BRETT
Fear still wraps around me in the morning when I wake and she’s cuddled into me, but at least I was more prepared for it this morning versus the blindside of last time.
Keeping my hands off her is proving difficult after that kiss, but I’m doing my best. I run for the shower where I’m able to have a private moment to relieve myself, but it does little to calm the raging need inside of me.
She’s still sleeping when I emerge and get dressed, and then I hear a little cry from the crib. I move quietly around the room so as not to wake Hannah. I want to give her the extra few minutes of sleep she needs after what’s been a harrowing few days...weeks...months...life for her. As I glance over at her still sleeping peacefully, I realize for the first time that I want to give her more than just sleep.
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it’s definitely something.
I pick up the baby from the crib, careful to handle him the way I’ve seen her do. I carry him out to the living area and quietly close the door behind me, and then it’s just me and this littl
e dude.
What, exactly, am I supposed to do with a nine-month-old?
I change his diaper first, and then I stare down at him. His sleepy eyes stare up at me. His face isn’t as flushed as it was last night, but I have no idea how to tell if a baby has a fever. He doesn’t seem extra hot anywhere, and he’s not super cranky, so I’ll take that as a win.
I look around for a few beats as I try to figure out what comes next. Usually she gives him Cheerios in the morning. I spot the little travel chair she straps him into, but it’s not actually on a chair.
I can’t hold a baby and strap him into a chair.
Do I set him down on the floor?
What if he crawls into the table headfirst?
Yeah, floor is a bad idea.
I strap him into his carrier, and he tilts his head and looks at me the same way she does when she’s trying to figure out my next move.
I can’t help my laugh.
I pick up the baby seat contraption and stare at it as I try to figure out how the hell it works. There’s little buckles pushed into the sides of it, so I pull those out and secure them around one of the chairs at the little table in our room.
And then I get the kid out of his carrier and move him over to the seat. I put a handful of Cheerios on his tray, and then two more handfuls because it doesn’t look like enough, and then I set to work on finding his bottle to give him some formula.
I rummage through the diaper bag she’s always carrying around and procure the bottle, and I’m in the middle of reading the directions on the back of the formula when the bedroom door flings open and a wide-eyed Hannah comes flying out. Her head whips around the room until her eyes land on Chance, and then a calmness seems to wash over her. “Oh!” she gasps, and her hand flies to her chest.
Her eyes find mine as she pants a little, and I can’t help but think how cute she looks. Her ponytail’s a mess from sleep with half her hair up and half sticking out wildly, and her shirt’s a little disheveled, and her glasses make her look intellectual despite the chaotic nature of the rest of her appearance.
“I woke up and he wasn’t in his crib,” she explains.
I flash her a grin. “I took care of it.”
“How’s he doing this morning?” She walks over toward him and leans down to pepper his cheek with kisses. She sets the back of her hand against his forehead. “I think the fever broke.” She glances up at me. “You gave him Cheerios? And figured out the Bumbo?”
“The Bumbo?” I repeat.
“The baby seat,” she clarifies.
“Oh,” I say, nodding. “Yeah. I figured it out.”
She regards me for a beat.
“I just wanted to give you a little extra sleep,” I say. “You looked so peaceful and I figured you could use the rest after last night.” I leave out the details about not knowing whether it was okay to put a kid on a hotel floor. I’ll learn.
She steps toward me slowly, and then she closes the gap. She sets a hand on my jaw, and I nearly find myself leaning into her touch. She reaches up on her tiptoes and presses a small kiss to my cheek. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and she starts to back away.
I grab onto her waist and pull her back into me, and I press a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re welcome.”
She’s a little dazed as I let her go. She finishes making the formula and brings it over to Chance, and I watch her as she interacts with him. She talks to him and asks him how he’s feeling, and I realize only now that I was totally silent as I worked with him. If I’m following her lead, it appears that I’m supposed to talk to the kid, ask questions, and basically narrate everything I do.
We order up some breakfast, and afterward I head over to Tommy’s room to check in.
“How’s the kid?” he asks, wrestling his way into a shirt as he kicks the door shut behind me. I walk into his suite. It looks just like mine minus the kid and the girl.
“Much better.” I flop down onto an easy chair by the window. “Just an ear infection.”
He flops down onto the couch. “You wanna find some pussy after the show tonight?” His tone is cautious, and I realize I haven’t been very much fun on this tour so far.
Tonight’s only our sixth performance out of thirty-seven on this tour—not counting the appearances and smaller private gigs we’ve got lined up, but Tommy and I both set our expectations high for a whole lot of WAC—weed, alcohol, and cunts. I had a little of that shit right out of the gate, but I haven’t indulged in much of anything since Hannah and Chance boarded the bus.
“Nah,” I say.
He nods knowingly. “You getting some from your little kitten?”
My brows draw down as I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “My little kitten?”
“Yeah. You know, the girl you’re rescuing.”
I press my lips together. “I’m not rescuing her. I’m just trying to do the right thing in a difficult situation. And no, not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not fucking.”
He sits up and raises both brows. “You’re not? But you’re sharing a bed!”
“Yeah, with a kid three feet away. And it’s not just that. It’s...complicated.”
He twists his mouth. “Mind if I fuck her, then?”
My hackles rise to join the hairs on the back of my neck. “Yeah, I mind,” I say, the volume of my voice rising. “Stay the hell away from her.”
He holds up both hands innocently. “I just figured if you’re not plowing her, one of us should be.”
“She deserves better than your sick ass,” I mutter.
He shrugs. He’s not offended by that—instead, he knows I’m probably right. Most women do deserve better than the way we’ve always treated them, and something about one night with one random chick sits a little funny with me now, and I’m not sure why.
Maybe it’s because I have a kid. What if it was a girl? How would I feel about some guy treating my daughter the way I’ve treated women my entire adult life?
I wouldn’t like it. I’d tear the guy’s limbs off.
It’s a new perspective that I’m not sure I like, but it’s in my head now and I don’t know how to get past it.
“I can’t believe you’re not fucking her,” Tommy muses.
“Yeah, well, I’m not.”
“It shows, dude.” He shakes his head. “You need to get laid. Release some of those endorphins. You’ll feel better.”
“It’s just...” I trail off. It’s just...what? It’s different. That’s the only word I can come up with, and it won’t be good enough for Tommy.
Before I get the chance to finish that thought, he plows forward as he lies back on the couch. “Dude, it’s like I tell Dustin and Tyler all the time when they have bugs up their asses. You release oxytocin when you’re banging, and that helps keep you from being depressed. So get yourself laid and let’s have some fun again.”
“You think I have a bug up my ass?” I raise both brows and basically ignore the rest of what he said to me.
“Something’s going on with you, and I have yet to meet a problem that can’t be solved with sex.”
“Do you really think that’s true?” Would I have thought that was true a few weeks ago? Probably. Then I rammed headfirst into a problem that sex can’t solve.
“Hit me with it and I’ll lead you to the sex,” he says. He stares up at the ceiling while he waits for my confession.
I blow out a breath. “Her sister just died, man. It’s heavier than we’re used to. She feels like she’s responsible for the kid, but in actuality I am since I’m his only living parent. I can’t just hop into bed with her.”
“She’s grieving. I get that. The best way to help that grief is to release oxytocin.”
Maybe there’s something to that. She did seem pretty relaxed after the tub incident, barring the embarrassment, of course.
“In the last few days, I’ve started, uh...” Having feelings for her.
It’s okay to say it. Or, it would be if I w
as talking to someone other than Tommy Stevenson. He won’t understand.
“You like her,” he says flatly.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“So I’m the lone bachelor, then.” His tone is still flat, but I sense the disappointment anyway.
“I’d hardly say that. I don’t know if she’s into me, too, or she wants to give this a try or what. I don’t know what I want. I don’t do this shit and there’s a reason why.” I think over that last statement, and I amend it a bit on a mutter. “There’s a lot of reasons why.”
“Then find another hole to fuck, dude. It doesn’t have to be hers.”
I stand to leave. He’s not helping, and I’m afraid if I sit here much longer, I’m going to say words to him that I’ll regret.
“Where the fuck you think you’re going?” he asks.
“I don’t know. But not here.”
He sits up. “Why?”
“Because I just told you something that’s difficult for me to talk about and your answer is to find a hole to fuck. That’s not useful, Tommy.”
He holds his hands up innocently again, and it’s a bit like he’s trying to calm a rabid child. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t know you were so goddamn sensitive.”
“I’m not.” I blow out a breath. “I think I’m falling for her, and I have no idea what to do about it.”
He presses his lips together. “Yeah, no comment there. Hit up Tyler or Dustin. But if you want to scout some Chicago ass, I’m your dude.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say dryly, and then I take Tommy’s advice and bolt for Tyler’s room.
CHAPTER 31: HANNAH
“Why don’t you go to the show and I’ll stay with the kids tonight?” I suggest to Amanda.
She gives me one of those looks like she never even thought of the possibility.
“Come on,” I goad her. “You know you want to.”
She laughs.
Danielle and I sit on the couch in Amanda and Dustin’s room while Amanda sits on the floor with the kids. We decided to get together for a late morning playdate while I assume the guys are off having some sort of band meeting. It’s a chance for the kids to move around in a bigger space than the bus provides and it also gives us ladies time to chat.
