But I also didn’t have a choice when it came to Jared looking after Logan. Sharon was right. I couldn’t bring him with us, but I couldn’t let her take the bus.
I let out a hard breath. “All right, but are you sure about this?” I asked him. “You don’t exactly have experience looking after kids.”
“We’ll be fine. In case you’re forgetting, I used to be one.” That was hardly reassuring. “Plus I have a niece. So I’m not totally inept when it comes to kids.”
I told them I’d be right back and entered Logan’s room. “I have to take Mrs. Rogers to the doctor’s. Are you okay if Jared stays with you till I get back?”
“Jared plays with me, yes?”
“Yes, Jared is going to play with you.”
He grinned, and I could’ve sworn in that moment I’d never seen him look as happy as he did at that news. A pang in my heart warned me this was a bad idea, but I really didn’t have a choice.
At the sound of the man a few seats down coughing with that phlegmy noisy that always made my stomach churn, I subtly turned my body away from him and flipped the magazine page. A familiar model stared back at me, her makeup and glossy black hair making me feel grossly inadequate. Not that her micro-mini and sequined halter top helped much either. But even if she’d been wearing the same baggy jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt as me, she would have looked sexy.
She would have looked nothing like me.
But while Tiffany Grainger might’ve been a supermodel and might’ve had guys drooling over her, I had one thing she didn’t—Logan. Sure, she never had to worry about a guy turning his back on her because she had a child. But she also didn’t know how it felt to have a child love her like she was the most important thing in his world.
Too bad Logan was the only male who would ever look at me that way.
I closed the magazine and searched for one that wouldn’t remind me just how lonely I really was. Which meant no magazines with articles on finding Mr. Right or how to give Mr. Right an orgasm he’d never forget.
As I was deliberating whether it would be better to read the home-decorating magazine or the five-month-old issue of Sports Illustrated, Sharon walked over to me.
I stood up. “What did she say?”
“I have pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia?” I squeaked. “Will you be okay?” Of course, you idiot, she’ll be okay. She has pneumonia, not the plague.
“I’ll be fine. She prescribed antibiotics and told me to rest until I’m feeling better.” She cringed at what that meant.
I gave her my most reassuring smile. Or at least I tried to. “Don’t worry. Logan will be fine. I’ll figure something out.”
I was completely, utterly screwed.
11
Jared
When I was a little boy, I was a major book nerd. I couldn’t get enough picture books. Twice a week, Mom would take Kristen and me to the library so I could borrow new ones. A picture book had inspired me to want to learn to play the guitar.
Next to Logan on the couch, I pointed to the cat in his picture book. “What’s the sign for cat?”
He and I had been playing this game for the past ten minutes. I’d point to an animal on the page and he’d show me the sign for it. My sister had explained the importance of reading to young kids, but try telling that to her daughter. She hadn’t inherited my book-nerd gene. Emma never stayed still long enough to listen. Logan was the opposite. This was the third time I’d read him the story since Callie had left to take Sharon to her doctor’s appointment.
Logan pinched his thumb and index finger together and brushed them against his cheek.
“Is that like the cat’s whiskers?”
He nodded. “Cat whiskers.”
“Do you like cats?”
“I want dog.”
“Can you say ‘I want a dog’?” I felt like an idiot correcting him, but figured Callie would’ve done it if she were here. Besides, Logan didn’t seem bothered by having to repeat the sentence. He was used to it.
“You want a dog too? Can I see it?”
I laughed. “No, I’m not getting a dog. My apartment building won’t allow it. And who would look after it while I’m on tour?”
He grinned. “Me!”
I laughed again. “I don’t think your mom will go for that, but would you like to visit my friends’ puppy?”
Logan jumped off the couch, grabbed hold of my hand, and attempted to tug me up. “Let’s go.”
“Not now. I have to ask them first if it’s all right with them.”
The front door clicked open, and I glanced toward the hallway. Logan sat back down next to me, flipped the page, and waited for me to read the words. It was like he hadn’t even heard the door open.
A minute later, Callie entered the living room. “Hi.”
“Mommy!” Logan didn’t sign the word this time. He catapulted himself off the seat and raced over to his mom. Callie barely had time to squat before her son launched himself into her arms.
“I missed you,” she said, hugging him.
“I missed you. Did you miss Jared?”
“Of course. Did you have pizza?” There was no missing how quickly she changed the topic.
Logan nodded. She tickled his tummy, and he giggled. She smiled at him, but something was off about it.
I pushed myself off the couch. “How’s Sharon doing?”
“She has pneumonia.” Callie did her best to fix the fading smile on her face. It didn’t work. “So I have to find someone to look after you tomorrow while I work,” she said to Logan.
He pouted. “Where Mrs. Rogers going?”
“She’s not going anywhere, but she’s sick and can’t look after you for a few days.”
Logan hugged my legs. “Jared look after me and take me to see puppy.”
“Sweetie, it was nice that he helped out so I could take Mrs. Rogers to the doctor, but he has to work too.”
“Other than practicing with the band in the afternoon, I’m pretty free tomorrow. I can bring him with me. The guys won’t mind.”
Callie rapidly shook her head, eyes wide. “No. That won’t work. He has preschool tomorrow morning and . . . and he doesn’t like listening to music. It doesn’t sound good with his implant.”
“What time does preschool start and finish?”
“Eight thirty till eleven.”
“I can drive him to preschool and pick him up.” I turned to Logan. “Have you ever felt music before?”
He looked at his mom, uncertain if he had or not.
“Maybe,” she said. “It’s hard to tell. Before he got the implant, I would play music, but I didn’t turn it up very loud. Thin walls.”
“I bet the drum and bass vibrations feel pretty cool when Mason and Kirk play their instruments,” I told him. “We can turn off your implant while the band practices and you’ll be able to feel the beat.” I could tell Callie was torn, as she bit her lip, so I added, “I mean, unless you have someone else who can look after him. But honestly, I don’t mind. What do you say, Logan? You want to hang out with me and the band tomorrow?”
“I get to see puppy?”
“I’m not sure about tomorrow, but we can ask Nolan when we see him.” That was met with an enthusiastic nod.
“Can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?” Callie asked me. After finding a TV show for Logan to watch while we were gone, she indicated for me to join her.
“What’s up?” I asked once we were in the kitchen.
“Thank you for offering to help out, but it’s really not a good idea.”
“So you have someone else who can do it? Or can you take time off work?”
She shook her head. “I wish I could, but someone called in sick. I’m not just working my regular shift. I have to work until eight tomorrow night.”
I shrugged. “So I’ll stay till you get home. It’s no big deal, Callie. He’s a great kid.”
The panicked look from earlier reappeared on her face. She averted her
gaze. “This is such a bad idea,” she whispered, more to herself than for my benefit.
I stepped closer and lifted her chin, her skin soft against my callused finger. Her light perfume, which reminded me of the sweet pea flowers she loved so much as a kid, teased me. Her light blue eyes met mine. The only thing I didn’t remember from our childhood was her lips. Had they always been that full? Had they always looked like they begged to be kissed?
A craving powered through me to run my thumb across her lower lip, to see if it was as soft as it looked. Her lips parted slightly. On instinct, I leaned in another inch.
The kitchen door creaked open. Callie jerked away from me as if someone had scalded her with boiling water. Logan walked into the room, oblivious to what he had almost interrupted.
“What would you like?” she asked him.
“I’m thirsty.”
She rushed to the fridge, unable to get away from me fast enough, and poured apple juice into a plastic cup.
He returned to the living room with his drink, but the moment between his mother and me was over. Not that you could really call it a moment. What I had felt for her in those brief seconds was purely one-sided.
Remember, you used to date her sister. She sees you as nothing more than her big brother. And even if she didn’t see me that way, she wasn’t interested in dating me—for Logan’s sake.
“So what time do you want me here tomorrow?” When she didn’t answer, her mind somewhere else, I said, “Everything’s going to be okay. He knows I’m in a band and that I tour. I’m more like an uncle to him.”
Callie swallowed hard. “Six.”
Fuck, that was early. I usually didn’t get up until closer to eight in the morning. Sometimes even later, if I had stayed up late the night before working on a new song.
She proceeded to write down and explain his schedule and how to get to his preschool. “If you drive him anywhere, you’ll need his booster seat.” The entire time she talked, an odd sort of tension rolled off her. She was nervous as hell, either about the almost kiss or about leaving me in charge of her kid—I couldn’t figure out which. But something made me want to wrap her up tight in my arms and tell her it was going to be okay. That I would be there for her, even if I didn’t know if I could keep that promise.
“I swear, everything will be all right,” I told her. But I got the distinct impression my words did nothing to alleviate her fears.
12
Jared
Thursday morning, while Logan was at preschool, I went for my daily run and hit the local workout park. So far the morning had gone well. I had survived dragging my ass out of bed early, though it had almost killed me.
On the road, as soon as the stage was packed up after the main act was finished, the tour buses would roll out and head to the next town. By then, the guys were asleep. Given how late that usually was, it wasn’t surprising how we would sleep well into the morning—although I was usually the first one up, much to Nolan’s annoyance. I was what he would grumpily refer to as a morning person.
Logan’s preschool didn’t resemble the preschools I’d seen before. It was much bigger. From what Callie had told me, the preschool specialized in working with disabled kids, everyone from toddlers to kindergarteners. The preschool also had a special program for kids who were deaf or hearing-impaired.
A few moms chatted in the small gathering area inside the building when I went to get Logan after school. It had been designated for parents to drop off and pick up their kids. Along one wall, coat hooks had been hung at little-kid height. Beneath them, outdoor shoes waited patiently in a semi-neat line.
One mom looked up and spoke to the other mothers in the group. As a single unit, they turned in my direction. Some, the ones that obviously weren’t too familiar with Pushing Limits or weren’t fans, just checked me out because I was a guy and because I hadn’t been here before. The others had the opposite reaction: they wore the typical expression of our female fans.
“Hi,” said a woman in her early twenties who was wearing yoga pants and an Oakland Raiders T-shirt. “You’re Jared Leigh, right? I’m Sarina Scott. God, I love your band. You guys are amazing.” She was the woman who’d set off the celebrity-alert system when I entered the room.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you have a child.”
“I don’t. I’m picking up my friend’s son for her.”
Her blond eyebrows jerked up. “Friend?”
“Yes, Callie Talbert.”
The woman tilted her head to the side, and I got the distinct feeling she was studying me. “So you’re not Logan’s father, then?”
“No, just an old family friend. Logan’s regular caregiver is sick, so I’m taking care of him while Callie’s at work.”
“Are you and Callie dating?”
Two moms rolled their eyes. It sounded like one muttered, “Way to be obvious, Sarina,” but I couldn’t be certain.
“No. Like I said, we’re old friends.”
“When does Pushing Limits’s next album coming out?” asked another woman who was several years old than Sarina and bouncing a baby in her arms.
“The first single comes out in four weeks, and the album releases the following week.”
She gave Sarina a quick glance. “And then you’ll be touring?”
I nodded.
“I seriously don’t know how you do it,” Sarina said. “It’s no wonder so many relationships with rock stars don’t last.” Then she quickly added, “Not that I’m saying you can’t maintain a relationship while on the road.”
I laughed. “I’d hardly call myself a rock star. And you’re right. It is tough.” As it was, I had no idea how Nolan and Hailey planned to keep up their relationship once the band hit the road. Touring put a strain on relationships. If the length of time between visits wasn’t enough of a problem, you had to trust that your significant other would remain faithful. More often than not, that tended not to happen. The last band we opened for cheated on their girlfriends and wives all the time.
But Nolan and Hailey weren’t anything like those individuals. They had a strong history behind them and a friendship that had been tight for many years. I didn’t doubt that if Nolan hadn’t originally escaped his hometown after the shit with his old man went down, those two would’ve been together for the past five years instead of what did happen.
The classroom door opened, and seven kids Logan’s age marched into the pickup area. Their teacher said goodbye to them, both through speech and in sign language. Some spoke and signed back. Two only signed.
One of the teachers gave me a brief nod, and I showed her my driver’s license. I’d met her this morning when I dropped Logan off. Callie had already told her that I would be taking care of him for the next few days. Security was tighter here than it was on tour—for good reason.
Logan rushed over and grabbed my hand, then pulled me toward another man who was standing there with a little boy. The man had arrived soon after me but hadn’t joined the group of mothers I’d been with. He’d been talking on his phone.
“This is my friend, Ben,” Logan said. “This is his daddy.” There was both awe and wistfulness in his voice when he said the last word. My heart clenched.
The man held his hand out to me. “Hi, I’m Tony.”
I shook it. “Jared.”
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I’m helping Logan’s mom out. His regular caregiver is sick. Callie and I are old friends.”
“Daddy, can we go to the playground with Logan?” Ben asked.
“Sure, for a short time. If it’s okay with Logan’s da—er, friend.”
“That’s fine. Logan and I are free for a while longer.”
“We’re gonna see his band,” Logan said. “He plays guitar.”
“What kind of music do you play?” Tony asked as we helped the boys change into their outdoor shoes.
“Rock.”
“You do that full-time?” Curiosity marked
his words, which lacked the judgmental tone I often heard when people found out what I did for a living . . . before they learned about the band’s success on the charts with our last album, that is.
“You mean play in a band?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Pretty much. We’re just waiting for our new album to be released, then we’re back on tour again.”
“Album? What’s your band’s name?”
I told him.
“I’ve heard of you guys, but I’m more into country.”
By “heard of,” he no doubt meant the controversies that had swirled around us on more than one occasion.
“So, you’re a stay-at-home dad?” I asked as we walked outside to the playground behind the school. The temperature had already warmed up, the sun bright in the sky.
“No, I have a computer programming company, but I work out of my home so that I can be there for my son more. I used to work for a multinational corporation, but with the long hours expected of me at the office, I was rarely home when Ben was awake.” At least he was home more than I would be if I had a child and was still touring.
The boys climbed onto the swings and asked us to push them. Callie had already warned me not to push Logan too high. The swings tended to make him nauseous.
“So what’s the deal with you and Callie?” Tony asked. “She seems nice.”
At something in his voice, a hint of jealousy sparked in me, and I turned to him, my attention no longer on Logan. But before I could figure out what he was really asking, Logan and the swing slammed against my leg. I fell backward, and my ass landed hard on the gravel.
Without missing a beat, I replied, “She is nice,” and pushed myself up, my pride more bruised than my backside.
Tony and I continued talking while the boys played. I was so used to talking to my bandmates, fans, groupies, media, and people from the record label that it felt weird talking to someone who had nothing to do with the music industry. We chatted about all kinds of things, but mostly about the boys. Tony told me all the stuff he and Ben did together, and that made me think about my own father—and what Logan was missing out on because of Callie’s fear of him getting hurt.
My Song For You (Pushing Limits Book 2) Page 8
