My Song For You (Pushing Limits Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “He can’t always hear. It helps if you can sign to him when he can’t hear you. Like at bedtime. And Callie wants him to be familiar with ASL because he is deaf. He’s part of the deaf community and she doesn’t want to take that from him, but he’s also part of the hearing community.” It was one of those difficult decisions she’d had to make on her own about my son. Everyone had their own opinion on the topic. I didn’t know how she’d done it, but she had. She’d wanted to do what was right for Logan, and that was part of the reason I loved her. But Logan wasn’t the only reason I loved her. Why couldn’t she see that?

  While Mom helped Logan gather everything he’d brought with him, I texted Sharon, asking her if she could watch him for a short time. Fortunately she didn’t ask why I required her help, although there would be no avoiding the truth once I brought Callie home.

  After putting Logan to bed, I drove to the lounge where Callie and Hailey had gone. Raindrops started spitting on my car.

  I entered the lounge and scanned the area for the two women. Callie had changed outfits since I’d last seen her. Now she was wearing my favorite dress. The green sundress emphasized her copper hair and hugged her curves. The thin straps revealed her soft, creamy shoulders and the spattering of freckles that I thought were adorable on her—another thing I appreciated about her over Tiffany. Tiffany would’ve freaked if she found a freckle on her body.

  Clearly I wasn’t the only man taken with Callie’s skin. The douchebag she was with decided to become intimately familiar with it and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  She leaned away from him. I couldn’t tell from where I stood if that was because she wanted to remove his hand from her body or if she was swaying due to the amount of alcohol she’d consumed.

  Her head turned in my direction and her eyes widened. “Jared, what are you doing here?” The words held a slight slur.

  “I came to get you.” I nodded at Hailey. She smiled softly back, the relief that I was here unmistakable.

  The guy stared at me. I recognized his expression: I looked familiar to him but he couldn’t place me. “Who are you? Her taxi service?” His fingers returned to her shoulder. If he didn’t remove them from her soon, I would rip them off for him.

  Callie shifted in her seat. “Chris, this is Jared.” She gestured at me. “He’s the guy who proposed to me because he needs a nanny for his son and figured this was an easier way to get one. Jared, Chris is the guy who dumped me because my sister died and left me your son to care for, and Chris didn’t want . . .” She cocked her head to the side. “How did you put it? To be responsible for another man’s castoffs.”

  The asshole’s mouth dropped open. I had no idea which of Callie’s assessments of the situation shocked him more. Either way, neither of us looked too hot in her view.

  Hailey jumped up from her seat. “Okay, Callie, I think it’s time to get you home.”

  Callie pouted. “What if I don’t wanna go home yet?”

  “You don’t have to leave.” Chris eyed her like he was remembering one of their fuck sessions and had every intention of reexperiencing it with her . . . tonight. “I can drive you home.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told her, doing everything in my power not to slam my fist in his face. I could guarantee that if I hit him, the media would pick up news of the assault. I couldn’t take that risk.

  He glared at me. “Why don’t you run along? Callie and I have a lot of catching up to do. And from the sound of it, she’s not interested in being your live-in nanny with benefits.”

  I shoved his shoulder hard. He stumbled back a step. “It’s not like that,” I snapped.

  “Okay. I’m ready to go home now.” Callie stood up and gestured to the waiter for their tab. “Is Logan still with your parents?”

  “No, Sharon’s looking after him.”

  “Why are you here, Jared?” she asked, voice low and soft.

  “Because I care about you.” I craved to tell her that I loved her, but she was drunk. The first time she would hear those three words from me would be when she was sober.

  With my arm around her waist, I started to guide her to the exit. Hailey followed us.

  “Wait,” the douchebag said. He handed her his business card. “Call me.”

  I fisted my free hand but didn’t say anything. Not that I had to. As soon as we were outside, she crumpled up the card and tossed it in a trash can.

  “I wanna walk,” she suddenly said. She broke free from me and stumbled in the opposite direction from where she lived. Then she paused and looked up at the sky. The rain had picked up since I’d arrived at the lounge and was coming down hard. She smiled and raised her hands as if in offering.

  “Will you be okay with her?” Hailey asked.

  “I’ll be fine. As long as she doesn’t trip and land on her face.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” I placed my hand on Callie’s lower back. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you, Jared.” She wobbled on her feet. “This nanny with benefits is closed for business. Yep.”

  “Exactly how much did she have to drink?” I asked Hailey.

  “About four or five martinis.”

  “How many did you have?”

  “One. I’m driving.” She gave Callie a hug and told her she would talk to her soon, then ran to her car. Callie and I walked in that direction to make sure Hailey was okay. The rain still didn’t bother Callie. Her wet dress clung to her curves, revealing the outlines of her bra and pebbled nipples. My dick hardened in appreciation.

  We walked in silence. I had no idea what she was thinking, and I was too nervous to ask. We needed to talk, but this wasn’t the way I wanted to have the conversation, with Callie soaked and drunk, and with me sporting a hard-on.

  Ahead of us, a large puddle stretched across the sidewalk. Before I could grab her hand and lead her around it, she ran the short distance and launched herself into the water.

  Her sandaled feet landed in the puddle with a big splash. Dirty water splattered her bare legs, but she didn’t care. She laughed like she used to when we were younger, back when she loved splashing around in puddles.

  A smile tugged at my mouth. I couldn’t help it. I’d forgotten how adorable she was when she jumped in puddles. Sober or drunk, she didn’t care what other people thought. She splashed around in them because it made her feel good. Made her feel alive. It was something Tiffany and Alexis never would have done.

  “I love this puddle,” she said, and splashed again. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on, Jared.”

  And that was where she was wrong. I knew exactly what I was missing out on. This goddess of a creature in front of me was what I was missing out on. But I couldn’t tell her that now, not this way. So I did the only thing I could—I joined her.

  I jumped into the water, splashing both her legs and mine. She laughed harder. If anyone drove by and saw us, they would’ve thought we were completely insane. And maybe I was insane. I certainly had been crazy for taking forever to see what was in front of me.

  I reached for her and, against my better instincts, pulled her against me. She stopped laughing and vulnerability instantly filled her eyes. I wasn’t thinking—one second I was staring at those gorgeous blue eyes, and the next I was kissing her.

  The kiss started out tender but quickly escalated and became more heated. Callie’s breasts pushed against my chest and I had the sudden urge to find a quiet place and make love to her in the rain. To let the water wash away the pain and heartbreak she had dealt with for so long.

  A voice deep inside me, where logic ruled over emotion, reminded me this was wrong. Callie wasn’t in any state for me to make love to her. I needed to get her home to bed. I needed to temporarily give her space, to let her sober up.

  “Sing to me,” she said.

  “Can we start walking again?”

  She considered it for a second and nodded.


  “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” I began as we walked.

  She giggled. “No, I want you to sing one of the band’s songs like you did the other night.”

  “Any particular song?”

  She picked “This Last Time,” a song I’d written after my breakup with Alexis. It was about love and betrayal. Not exactly the song I wanted to sing to the woman I loved. I just hoped she hadn’t picked it because it reminded her of everything our relationship had been about in the beginning.

  I finished the song and she smiled. She didn’t say anything else the rest of the way. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  My phone pinged. Another message from Nolan: Remar called. Meeting with band tomorrow at 10 am.

  Me: On a Saturday?

  Ronald Remar was the president of the label. I could count the number of times on one hand that the band had met with him. We weren’t a big enough act yet to warrant his attention, so what the hell did he want to talk to us about?

  We entered the apartment, Callie doing her best to be quiet. Sharon didn’t say anything beyond wishing us goodnight before leaving. If she was disappointed in Callie for getting drunk, she didn’t show it.

  Callie was wet and muddy, but she wasn’t in any condition to shower alone, and I wasn’t about to go there with her while she was drunk.

  I escorted her to her bedroom. She sat down hard on the bed, almost slipping off the edge. Water dripped from her hair and clothes onto the bedding.

  “I’ll be right back.” I returned with a glass of water and a couple of aspirins, both of which she swallowed without complaint. I also returned with a towel and wet washcloth.

  I gently cleaned the mud from her body and dried her skin. Usually she slept naked with me, but after what her ex had insinuated about our relationship, I searched her room for clothing that resembled pajamas. I found a pair of cotton shorts and matching T-shirt, both covered with hearts and bunnies. I didn’t want to leave her in her wet dress, but I also didn’t want Logan to wander in tomorrow morning and find her naked.

  This wasn’t the first time I had stripped Callie of her clothes, but she had been fully coherent those other times. This time it felt awkward, like I was violating her privacy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was fully awake, but she could barely keep her eyes open.

  It didn’t help that I missed caressing her soft skin, exploring her body, tasting her. I couldn’t get enough of Callie, but none of that mattered just then. The only thing that was important was to get her changed and let her sleep off the booze.

  After removing her dress and bra—my gaze on her shoulder so as to avoid looking at her breasts—I helped her with the T-shirt. I laid her on the bed and eased her cotton shorts up her legs. I was used to taking clothes off women, which was a lot easier than putting them on.

  Callie murmured in her sleep, but I couldn’t make out what she said. I wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I watched her for a minute or two. Part of me longed to crawl under the covers and hold her to warm her up. To let her know that I loved her and that I meant everything I had said when I told her I wanted to marry her. But not because of Logan. I wanted to be with her and only her.

  I leaned down and kissed her temple. She murmured again, the words still unintelligible. Even in her inebriated state, Callie looked at peace.

  I kissed her again. “I love you,” I whispered against her temple. “I think I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now, but I was too much of an idiot to realize it until recently.”

  She made a soft sound and shifted in her sleep.

  When I returned a minute later with a bowl from the kitchen in case she was sick during the night, she hadn’t moved. I placed it on the floor near her bed, so she couldn’t miss it if she woke up. I set a glass of ice water next to the bottle of aspirin on her bedside table and sat in the armchair.

  I spent more than an hour in her room brainstorming ways to show her how much she meant to me. Some were clichés. Others were outlandish. But when I finally snuck out of the apartment sometime after midnight, there was no question about what I had to do to prove to her that she was mine.

  Now I had to hope the guys in the band would go for it.

  38

  Callie

  “Mommy!”

  Logan’s voice somehow broke through the hammering in my head. Whoever had invented alcohol needed to be shot. Although I guessed that by this time he was long since dead.

  But that was a moot point. The sentiment was still the same.

  I opened my eyes. The Sahara had more moisture than my eyes did after last night. Taking a chance that the pounding in my head wouldn’t worsen if I sat up, I gave it a try. My stomach made its presence known, but it promised to behave if I promised never to drink another drop of alcohol again.

  That could definitely be arranged.

  Logan signed that he wanted to watch TV. Since I wasn’t up for any Mother of the Year awards, especially after last night, I could get away with him watching it all day while I recovered from my hangover.

  A glass of water sat on my bedside table, along with a bottle of aspirin. I was positive I wouldn’t have left them there last night before falling asleep. A vague memory slipped in of Jared walking me home from the lounge, of jumping in the puddle, of Jared helping me change into my pajamas. I glanced down. Yep, it hadn’t been a dream.

  Unlike before, Jared hadn’t stayed with me during the night. He’d helped me into bed and left. But what did I expect? He had proposed yesterday and I’d rejected him.

  But it wasn’t like he’d meant it. He’d done it for the wrong reasons. He would quickly get over it. I wouldn’t be so lucky.

  I swallowed a couple of aspirins and downed the entire glass of water. Another memory paid a visit—Jared giving me a couple of tablets and a glass of water before helping me out of my dress. He’d saved me from an even worse hangover. He could have just dumped me on the bed, still in my wet clothes, and left, but he hadn’t. He might not love me, but he did care about me. Wasn’t that enough? I could have married him and remained Logan’s mother. I would’ve been able to legally adopt him, and no matter what happened between Jared and me, Logan would still be my son. Wasn’t that all I desired, to still be Logan’s mother?

  Two months before, the answer would’ve been yes. Logan and I were family, the only family each of us had left. I had convinced myself that I wasn’t lonely. That I was perfectly happy being a single mom. Until a few weeks ago, I’d had everything I thought I wanted.

  How wrong I had been.

  After Logan had finished his breakfast, I left him to watch TV while I showered. Then I emailed a couple of friends in San Francisco I hadn’t spoken to in two years. At first, after I moved away, we had emailed regularly, but over time it became harder and harder to keep it up. They were all going one way with their lives, and I had gone in a different direction once I became Logan’s legal guardian.

  I spent the rest of the morning studying my artwork and the pictures in Logan’s books. Jared’s suggestion that I should illustrate kids’ books sneaked into my head. But what did I know about it? It was one thing to create pictures to hang on the wall. It was something entirely different to illustrate books.

  That wasn’t the only thing to sneak into my head and refuse to leave. I kept thinking about Jared. About his tongue exploring mine. About his warm, callused hands skimming across my skin. About how it felt when he filled me up, both physically and emotionally.

  By lunchtime, my head and my body were on speaking terms with me again. My heart, not so much. I took Logan to the local playground, but everywhere we went, I kept thinking about Jared. It wasn’t just because Logan looked so much like him. It was the things he said that reminded me of Jared. It was the places we had visited with Jared.

  I dribbled the soccer ball along the recently mowed grass, almost expecting Jared to steal it from me, like he had when we’d played a week earlier. The air even had the same sweet scent of f
reshly cut grass as back then. I had been edging closer to the goal, which Logan was guarding. Just as I was about to get into position to kick the ball, Jared had hooked his arms around me and swung me away from it. Laughing, I’d squirmed, attempting to escape, and lost my balance. That had resulted in Jared losing his balance. We’d landed on the ground with me straddling him.

  I smiled at the memory. It was one of many that I had of Jared, with and without Logan. Not all involved making out or sex. I missed our talks after we’d put Logan to bed. Jared always knew how to make me smile and laugh. And even though he could have spent his evenings drinking with his bandmates or seducing groupies, he didn’t. He’d spent them with me—making me fall even further in love with him.

  After I settled Logan into bed, I began work on a new digital design. I’d been mulling around ideas inspired by Celtic symbols for the past three days, but I hadn’t come up with the right idea. Until now. The memory of my puddle-jumping fun last night was exactly what I required.

  I spent hours getting lost in the flow of the lines, the colors, the look of joy and wonder on the little girl’s face as she jumped in the puddle. Her fiery copper hair fluttered gently in the breeze. Surrounding her, the woods were a peaceful green, the dirt ground fresh and alive from the recent rain. Water. Fire. Earth. Wind. She was the inner circle of the fivefold Celtic design. She was the element required to bring balance to the picture.

  Noticing how late it was, I checked my phone. The smile on my face waned. Other than a text to see if I was okay after last night’s drinking binge, I hadn’t heard from Jared. He finally sent me another text several hours later, telling me the band would be busy for the next few days.

  And after that, who knew what would happen. Pushing Limits was about to begin their promo blitz for the upcoming album, and following that came the tour.

  Jared was the center ring to my own personal fivefold design and I was losing him, but there was nothing I could do about it. My parents’ marriage had been solid because they’d been in love. I craved what they had, which meant I couldn’t settle for anything less.