Page 37 of Tortured Tones

As my driver drove toward my home, I dug into my backpack and ripped out a fresh black T-shirt. I yanked my sweaty one off and pulled on the clean shirt. Sitting beside me, Ava scanned every inch of my chest, raised an eyebrow, then looked straight ahead.

She wasn’t the first women to admire my physique. Most chicks did it with their hot mouths and hungry tongues. But Ava often looked at me like she wanted to skin me alive with the knife I was sure she had concealed on her body somewhere.

I slumped in the seat. “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” she asked.

“Drop everything and rush home to be with your kid.”

“When they’re your responsibility, you have to. No matter what you’re in the middle of doing or working on, you have to stop and go to them.”

“This sucks.” I dropped my head back, hitting the leather headrest. “I need to be with the band.” Shit! What if this happened in the middle of a show?

“No. You want to be with your band. You need to be with your child.” She stared out the car window. “Some days being a parent can be hard and frustrating. Guilt can consume you.”

I didn’t need to be a parent for that. Guilt consumed me every day. She had no idea how much.

“It’s okay to have a career, hang out with friends, pursue things that you love, but sometimes they have to be put on hold or pushed down the priorities list when you have to take care of your family.”

“I can’t do that.” The guys would be joking around, working on coordinating their stage moves, and I was sitting in a car...missing out. Shit! I’d never suffered from FOMO before. I was always with my friends, invited to the hottest parties, out on the town. Damn. This was a first. “The tour is my priority.”

“It is for now, but that won’t last forever.”

No, it wouldn’t. But at this point in my life, it took up nearly every waking moment. “Paul goes home on Saturday.” He’d been staying with friends in Pasadena. “Hannah will be around all the time. This won’t happen again.”

She swiveled her head toward me. “Don’t be delusional. Your daughter getting sick isn’t a one-time event, nor is having to put her needs before your own.”

“Fuck.” I thumped my head against the seat. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Time?” She sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly. The muscles in her jaw tensed. Was she mad at me? What had I done? She closed her eyes and lowered her voice. “Then why did you agree to take Charlotte? Why not let someone who will love her take care of her?”

The anguish in Ava’s tone caught me off-guard. She was usually so blunt and cold and full of tough love, but this was new. This was personal for her. She hadn’t told me the full story about her ex and why she didn’t have custody of her kid. I hadn’t meant to upset her with my own messed up situation.

Why did I take Charlotte? It was the right thing to do. She was my reckless mistake I had to take responsibility for. “Because she’s mine.” My heart struggled to beat. I didn’t want my life to change, but every time I was in the same room as Charlotte, something in my head and heart altered. I had no control over it and wanted it to stop.

“Then be the father she needs.” Ice shot through Ava’s tone. “If you don’t spend time with her or show her that you love her, she’ll grow up resenting you. Is that what you want?”

My heart twanged. I wasn’t going to be like my parents. No way. “No. It’s not.”

“Good. Don’t be an asshole. There’s already enough of them in the world.”

“Point taken.” I liked Ava. Like my friends, she didn’t kiss my ass. She wasn’t trying to hit on me or get me in the sack. She wasn’t part of my sphere of music. I didn’t need a pity party. Not ever. I’d deal with my shit. She was the right dose of harsh reality I needed to keep me grounded in the middle of my chaotic storm.

I’d take this fathering thing day by day.

I could look after a sick kid.

At home, I rushed through the front door and headed straight into the living room. Ava followed close behind. My breath hitched, shuddering through my chest. Charlotte lay stretched out on the sofa in a yellow tank top and panties. Hannah sat beside her head, wiping Charlotte’s brow with a damp facecloth.

I’d seen people passed out from drinking too much, flaked out on drugs, high to the heavens, but nothing freaked me out more than seeing my kid limp on the sofa.

Her little round cheeks were bright red. Damp strands of sweaty hair clung to her brow. Her eyes were closed, and her head had lolled to the side. Shit! I fell to my knee beside her and stroked her soft curls. She didn’t even flutter an eyelash. The back of my eyes prickled. All I wanted was to see her better. “Hey, Char. I’m here.”

“She’s just fallen asleep.” Hannah handed me the facecloth. “But her temperature has come down.”

I touched the back of my hand against her forehead. Her blazing skin burned my fingers. Fuck. I had no idea how to deal with this. “Are you sure she doesn’t need to go to hospital? She’s so hot.”

“She’s better than before. Your doctor should be here in ten minutes. He’ll tell you what to do.” Hannah rushed over to the dining table and grabbed her purse. “I’ve got to go. Keep her cool and hydrated. I’ll be back after dinner.”

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