Page 29 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“Get back here,” Fender growls. “We’re not done with this discussion.”

I glare at him. “Just because you want to be a father doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

“Want has nothing to do with it. You are going to be a father. You need to deal with your shit if you want to be part of the baby’s life.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be part of the baby’s life.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares back at me. “You’d be happy for there to be a child of yours running around the world who you have nothing to do with?”

“You’d abandon your child?” Gibson adds.

“It’s not…” I begin but I can’t continue the lie. I can’t claim it wouldn’t be abandoning my child. “Of course not,” I snarl.

I would never abandon my child. Not the way I was. But I can’t be a father either. I don’t know how to be a parent. I don’t have the first clue how to raise a child. How to teach him or her the ways of the world.

“But I can’t be a dad,” I murmur before bounding up the stairs.

This time my bandmates don’t try to stop me. I’m not naïve. They’re not done pushing me on the subject. My bandmates are the pushiest people I know. They don’t let me get away with shit.

But I need time to figure out what to do. To wrap my head around the idea of someone having my child.

And not just someone. Aurora. The woman I wish I could have but I can’t. I can’t chance hurting her. I won’t.

Chapter 11

Friends – come in all sizes and packages

Aurora

I throw myself on the bed at the Inn on Main. I knew Jett wouldn’t handle becoming a father well but I didn’t expect him to claim the baby isn’t his and march off without another word.

What did I ever see in him? Why in the world did I harbor a crush on the man for ten years? He’s an asshole. The supreme asshole of the universe. I should get him a t-shirt with those words on it. But first I need to concentrate on mending my broken heart back together.

“Housekeeping!”

“Go away!” I shout and immediately regret my mean tone. I’m not a bitch. “No thank you.”

“Housekeeping!”

“No thank you!”

“Try the door.”

“Is it locked?”

“We can’t break into her room.”

“Ellery said we could.”

“Ellery didn’t say we can break in.”

“Open the door already. We can’t leave her alone.”

Ugh. I know who those voices belong to. Those women are not going anywhere. They’re as pushy as their partners. And the members of Cash & the Sinners put the word pushy on the map.

I roll off the bed with a groan and make my way to the door. I fling it open. Indigo, Virginia, Leia, and Mercy immediately force their way into my room. Except for Mercy, I’ve met all of the girlfriends of the band members of Cash & the Sinners.

“Hi! I’m Mercy. I’m Gibson’s girlfriend.”

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