Page 29 of My Song for You
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.
Chapter 12
Jared
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?”
