Call on Me

by Roni Loren

  Pike stared at the words, the news he’d so long awaited there on the screen. But he couldn’t find an ounce of excitement in it.

  He tossed the phone on the seat.

  Maybe Oakley had been right. What the hell did he have to offer a kid? There were things he was good at. Staying in one place wasn’t one of them.

  Maybe he wasn’t that different from his dad after all.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Oakley tried to focus on the kids as they rehearsed one of the songs in Pike’s studio. None of them could stay still or on key, the excitement of being in a real studio too much to contain. But they had limited time here today and needed to make the most of it. She had to take control and calm them down. But she was having trouble doing that when she couldn’t calm herself.

  Pike was there, helping with everything, guiding the kids, but she and Pike may as well have been strangers sharing the same room. They’d only talked once since that morning in the kitchen—and even then, it’d only been through text. He’d wanted to know when she would know for sure if she was pregnant or not. She’d told him at least two weeks. Now a week had passed and the only interaction they’d had was during rehearsals.

  She’d pushed him away, so she wasn’t surprised he was keeping his distance. She’d basically told him that if she got pregnant, the child didn’t really need him in its life. She’d seen the hurt those words had inflicted. You’re not needed. You’re not worthy. That kid who’d been discarded by his family had surfaced. And she’d felt like an absolute bitch for doing that to him.

  That hadn’t been her intention. She’d wanted to give him his freedom. She knew her decision not to take the pill wasn’t logical or fair to him. She’d taken the choice completely out of his hands, so she’d wanted him to know he still had one. But her words had come out all wrong.

  She had expected him to be thankful for the out, to walk away with clean hands. But he’d declared the exact opposite. If there was a baby, he’d be involved somehow, a part of the child’s life. She had no idea what to make of that, but it both comforted her and terrified her. She wouldn’t be all alone this time. But she’d have Pike in her life indefinitely. She’d have to watch him live his life, date other people, move on. All while raising a new baby …

  God. The thought of another baby had kept her awake at night for a week. She’d made double money at the night job because as long as she was taking calls, she wasn’t thinking about everything else. When things got quiet, the blind terror came. She had no idea how she was going to manage a baby. Those first few years with Rae had been so impossibly hard.

  But even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to take that pill. She’d stared at the thing all that night, trying to talk herself into it, knowing it’d be the saner path. But then she’d flash back to when she’d been at the clinic at seventeen. She’d been way less equipped at that time than she was now. If that girl could handle an unexpected pregnancy, this one could, too.

  And all the worry was probably for naught anyway. It’d been one broken condom. She was older, surely less fertile. She had friends her age who’d tried for months and sometimes years to get pregnant. It didn’t happen that easily.

  But the what-ifs were going to kill her.

  Pike was going to kill her.

  Sharing a room with him and not going to him was proving to be an exercise in torture. The drama between them hadn’t quelled the effect their night had had on her. She’d fallen for the guy—recklessly and totally. Stupidly. She’d been halfway there already, but when he’d stayed up to watch over Rae, she’d been a goddamned goner. She’d failed the casual-hookup test spectacularly.

  “Why don’t you try to sing it, Reagan?”

  The question broke Oakley away from the nonstop hamster wheel of her thoughts. She looked over at Pike, who’d positioned Rae in front of a microphone.

  Rae glanced over at her, worry in her eyes. “I’m not the singer.”

  “I know,” Pike said. “But Madison has a cold, and I think this song might be better suited for your voice. Just give it a try and see.”

  Reagan wet her lips, clearly tempted. The poor girl had been chomping at the bit since they’d gotten here, but her cast prevented her from playing her guitar and participating. “Mom, what do you think?”

  Pike’s eyes met hers.

  Oakley’s knee-jerk response couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know, baby.”

  The thought of Reagan’s voice being recorded and out in the world could open her up to all kinds of attention. Oakley knew her daughter had something special, and Oakley’s instinct was to cocoon her from all that. She didn’t want Rae to even have a chance at being sucked into that world like she was.

  Reagan’s head dipped. “It’s okay, Mr. Pike. I don’t think my voice is good enough for the song anyway.”

  Her daughter’s response hit Oakley right in the chest. And Pike’s words rang in her ear—Reagan doesn’t think you like her singing.

  God. The last thing Oakley wanted was for her daughter to think she didn’t believe in her or see her talent as beautiful. Reagan stepped away from the mic, shoulders hunched.

  “Wait.” Oakley’s voice came out too loud and all the kids turned her way, including Rae. She walked over to her daughter and put a hand on her cheek. She had to work to get the words past her tight throat, but she knew they had to be said. “No, you should sing it, Rae. You’d sound amazing on this one. I know you would.”

  Reagan’s eyebrows knitted, suspicious. “Really?”

  Oakley smiled. “Really. Give it a try.”

  In her periphery, she caught Pike’s lips curling upward. He stepped closer, putting a hand on Oakley’s elbow and squeezing as he moved past her. “All right, kiddo. Let’s get your headphones on so you can rock this.”

  Oakley and the rest of the kids moved to the room on the other side of the glass, and Pike got Rae set up to record. Oakley grabbed a set of headphones so she could hear better and the music started. It was Oakley’s original music and the kids’ lyrics laid on top of it. But all of that faded into the background as her daughter began to sing.

  She hadn’t heard Rae really open up in longer than she could remember. So when the words came through, her voice clear and pure and stunning, tears jumped to Oakley’s eyes. The voice she’d remembered as that of a talented little girl had morphed since she’d last heard it into one of an older-than-her-years songstress—rich and textured and effortlessly on key.

  My God.

  Pike’s gaze found hers through the window. She shook her head in awe and he gave her a little nod. Not an I-told-you-so nod but a reverent one, like he agreed that they were both in the presence of something special.

  The other children in the group had gone still and quiet around her as they shared headsets and listened in. It was no longer a question of who should sing this song for the group. They’d found their voice.

  Rae had found her voice.

  Oakley watched as Reagan, who was a few rows in front of her on the bus, chatted with one of the boys from the group. They’d wrapped up at the studio, laying down a rough version of the main song, and were headed back to Bluebonnet. Normally, Rae would’ve sat with her, preferring her mother’s company to the stress of having to interact with other kids. But Rae seemed to be getting more and more comfortable with the group. She could bond with them over music and have a common topic to talk about. A few years ago, Oakley would’ve never dared to hope that her daughter could navigate being in such a group, but Rae was finding her place in the world and learning how to be in it in her own unique way.

  Oakley leaned back, a small shred of peace coming over her, and she turned her attention to the evening traffic that crept past the windows. But the peace was short-lived. Her seat bounced and she turned to find Pike sliding into the spot next to her.

  “This seat taken?”

  His hazel eyes were golden in the muted sunlight of the bus windows. She could see the green flecks, the striations of
color, could remember how dark all those shades went when he’d been perched above her in bed. She shifted in the seat. “You’re already in it. Kind of late to ask.”

  “How about I ask for forgiveness instead of permission, then?”

  She blew out a breath, knowing he wasn’t talking about the seat. “You have nothing to ask forgiveness for, Pike.”

  He shifted his body to face her more fully, dipping his head so that none of the kids nearby would overhear. “That’s not true. It wasn’t right to storm out on you, especially not when you were so upset. It was a dick move. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, I said some things I shouldn’t have, too. We were both freaking out in our own way.”

  His gaze held hers, searching. “How are you doing now?”

  “Dealing. Working a lot of double shifts.”

  Lines appeared around his mouth, his jaw tightening. “You don’t need to do that, Oakley. You know that if this happens, anything you need financially, I’ll cover.”

  “I know,” she said, not doubting that he would do just that. “But that’s not why I’m working so much. It helps keep my mind clear, and I can only sleep if I’m completely exhausted.”

  He sighed and put his hand on the seat between them, next to hers but not quite touching. “You don’t have to deal with it all alone, you know? You can call me. It’s not like I’m not constantly thinking about it, too.”

  “Thanks, but talking about it is not going to do any good. What’s going to be is going to be. I’d rather not think about it until I know what I’m dealing with.”

  “So you’re of the block-it-out-and-deny school of thought?” he asked, his mouth hitching up at the corner.

  “Totally.”

  “And how’s that working, Ms. Insomniac?”

  “I’m not currently in the fetal position, rocking in a corner, so I’d say pretty well.”

  His amused expression fell at that, concern filling his gaze. “Baby …”

  “Don’t.” She closed her eyes, her emotions riding dangerously close to the surface. “I can’t.”

  His hand moved over hers, a gentle press of his fingers against hers. “I want to be there with you when you take the test.”

  “Pike …”

  “Don’t shut me out of this, Oakley.” His fingers tightened around hers. “This impacts both of our lives. We should both be there.”

  She inhaled a deep breath, working to tuck her emotions back underneath the rug. She couldn’t lose it here on the bus. One screw loosened and everything was going to spill out. But she also knew it wasn’t fair to cut Pike out of things. If there was a child, it was his as much as it was hers. If he wanted to be a part of this journey, he had that right to be.

  She slipped her hand from beneath his and tucked hers in her lap. When she opened her eyes, she dragged her calm mask back into place. “I’m planning on doing it next Saturday. First thing in the morning is supposed to be best.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She peered over at him. “And then what, Pike?”

  He ran a hand over the back of his head, Mr. Unflappable finally showing a chink in his armor. “Then I guess we’ll figure things out from there.”

  “You can still walk away,” she said quietly. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  His jaw twitched and he stared toward the front of the bus. “Then you need to raise your standards of what you expect from a guy.”

  The comment landed square, and her defenses rose. “Low expectations are better than getting blindsided later.”

  He looked at her then, his gaze burning into hers, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “I’m not him, Oakley. And you shouldn’t let me be. You deserve better than that.”

  She rubbed her lips together, her patched-together facade fraying at the edges again. “I don’t know what better looks like, Pike.”

  His eyes creased at the corners, empathy there. “I get that. Once I left home, I expected the worst from every person I met. I looked at people like they were all out to screw me. I know how hard it is to break free of that, to trust someone—especially to trust someone like me. But when I say you’re not alone in this, I mean it. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

  She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She wanted so badly to believe them. She wanted to hope that if this happened, it wouldn’t be as terrifying as last time, that she’d have someone in her corner.

  “Tell me what you need, Oakley. Name it and it’s yours.”

  She shook her head, unable to voice what she wanted most. She couldn’t ask that of him. Wouldn’t. It was dumb to even think it. “I just need to get some sleep.”

  She could see him in her periphery, staring at her, evaluating. But finally he released a long breath and leaned back. “Okay, Oakley. I’ll stop asking.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Oakley adjusted herself on her pillows, trying to keep some enthusiasm in her voice as her caller described what he wanted tonight. He was a talker, so he was making it pretty easy on her as he seemed happy enough with her interjecting oohs and oh, yeahs every now and then. His own talk was what was getting him riled up. The only problem was the steady cadence of his voice was making her mind wander. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to refocus. Just a few more minutes …

  “I would fuck you so hard, Sasha. We’d wake up my neighbors.”

  A quiet buzzing against her thigh made her jump before she could respond to Darren’s dirty talk. She reached for her phone in the dark. A text message lit up the screen.

  Pike: Open the door, mama.

  What the hell? She glanced at the clock. Half past midnight.

  Darren cleared his throat on the phone and she hurriedly said, “Maybe you could shove something in my mouth, keep me quiet.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, then went on with his description of exactly what he would shove in her mouth.

  She typed her reply to Pike.

  Oakley: Working

  Pike: I figured. Let me in anyway. I’ll be quiet.

  She stared at the phone. Letting him in was a bad idea. She couldn’t cut off this call until it was done, and it was the middle of the night anyhow. But Pike was already at her doorstep, and she found herself moving that way despite her misgivings. Maybe he wanted to talk. Maybe he was having a rough night, too. He said he would be there for her. Maybe she needed to be there for him.

  She made her way to the front door and unlatched it. Pike stood on her doorstep, holding a box of Krispy Kremes and giving her his trademark smile.

  She put her hand over her mouthpiece. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged and stepped inside like she’d invited him. “The Hot Donut sign was on. How could I pass that up? I thought you might like to share.”

  “I want you to lick my asshole,” said the voice in her ear.

  Oakley jolted at the intrusion. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Would you do that to me, Sasha?” Darren asked, his voice husky. “I’ve always wanted a girl to try that.”

  She shut the door behind Pike and moved her hand away from the mouthpiece. “Yes. I’d love that.”

  Pike’s eyebrows lifted, a mischievous glint she hadn’t seen since everything had happened lighting his eyes. He leaned forward against the ear not blocked by the headset. “What would you love?”

  She shook her head and mouthed Stop it.

  “Tell me, Sasha,” Darren whispered. “I want to hear you say you’d put your tongue there.”

  Oakley pointed that Pike should go into the kitchen, but he simply grinned and mouthed No way back to her.

  “Sasha?” Darren asked.

  She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, baby, I’d love to lick your asshole.”

  A choked sound came from in front of her. Pike had his hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. She gave him a narrow-eyed glare and pointed again to the kitchen, but he turned and went toward her bedroom instead.

  Holding in a f
rustrated sigh, she followed him, ready to give him hell as soon as this call was done. He set the box of donuts on her desk and took one out. He studied the donut a little too closely, giving her a questioning look.

  She knew him well enough to know where this was going. She put her hand over the mouthpiece again. “I swear to God if you mimic rimming with that thing, I’m going to personally injure you. I cannot laugh on these calls.”

  But despite her threat, a smile tugged at her lips.

  He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “How much longer do you think it will go?”

  “He’s pretty worked up. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get him there. He wants to hear me come first.” She moved her hand off the mouthpiece for a second to talk to Darren, keep him going. “Ooh, I feel so dirty doing this, baby. You’re getting me so hot.”

  She covered the mouthpiece again.

  Pike smirked. “A gentleman, then. Nice. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Go in the next room so I don’t have to embarrass myself in front of you.”

  “No, I should stay because, let’s face it, I’ve never heard a fake orgasm. I mean, there’s never been a need.”

  She groaned. “Pike, stop, seriously.”

  He licked the inside ring of the donut in a lewd, slow glide despite her warning not to, and gave her an oh-yeah nod.

  A full-bodied laugh threatened to burst out of her. She spun to turn her back to him, to concentrate on the job at hand.

  “Tell me what you’re doing, Darren. I want to know.”

  Darren moaned softly. “I’m jacking myself nice and slow, thinking about your tongue inside me.”

  Dammit. Nice and slow was not what she needed. She tried to ignore Pike’s presence behind her. “I’m never going to last, baby. You’ve got me so turned on.”

  “Ah, you’re so sexy. Tell me how wet you are.”

  She put her hand on her forehead, dying a little inside. “Soaked.”

  Heat pressed against her back and she stiffened. Pike slid his hands onto her waist, beneath the hem of her T-shirt and kissed the slope of her shoulder. His lips brushed against her other ear. “It’s not nice to lie to the man. I can help.”