My Song for You: A Pushing Limits Novel (18 page)

This time when I woke up from a dream about fucking Callie, she really was with me. No waking up to an empty bed in my apartment.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even. Her shiny copper hair framed her face like a flame, but at the same time, it gave her a sweet, innocent aura. My already hard cock hardened some more.

Her dark eyelashes fanned against the faint half circles under her eyes. She’d had them since the first time I bumped into her a few weeks ago, but they were more noticeable without her makeup on. She was exhausted, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Her entire life revolved around my son: the unsatisfying job that let her get home early to be with him, the online courses she worked on in the evenings so she could eventually give him a better future, the freelance design jobs she did to earn more income. No wonder she was so tired and didn’t have time for her art.

A small sound came from Logan’s room. Careful not to wake Callie, I slipped out from under the covers, quickly dressed, and closed the door behind me. It clicked shut, the sound quiet enough not to wake her. It was only six-thirty, and Callie didn’t have to work today.

Logan was playing with Legos, his new stuffed puppy next to him on the floor. At my movement, he looked up.

“What are you doing?” I signed, even though it was obvious what he was doing.

He signed his reply, but the gestures were well beyond my simple ASL skills. The only part I understood was when he spelled out “Lego” with his fingers.

“I help you?” I signed back. He nodded, and I reattached his audio processor.

We spent the next fifteen minutes creating some unique-looking vehicles. General Motors had nothing on us.

I signed to Logan, “Are you hungry?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to go for a drive and get some breakfast? Just you and me while Mommy sleeps?”

I left Callie a note on the floor in front of Logan’s door, sent my sister a text, and grabbed my car keys and wallet. Then we headed to my favorite place for pancakes—the Pancake Cafe.

We arrived well before the usual Saturday morning crowd. The hostess seated us next to the window, giving us a not-so-scenic view of the side street. Luckily Logan wasn’t fussy about that. He was too busy studying the pictures on the menu.

I pointed to the kid-friendly selection, with the photo of a small stack of pancakes with sliced strawberries and bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles. “These are really good. So are the ones with blueberries. And these are great too.” I indicated the ones that looked as if chocolate had exploded all over the pancakes and whipped cream.

The waitress returned. Logan and I ordered the chocolate explosion pancakes. Logan also asked for chocolate milk. I ordered coffee.

While we waited, Logan colored the giraffe on the paper place mat with a red crayon. I worked on the elephant with the blue crayon. By the time we were finished, it would be a freaking masterpiece, even if we only had the three primary colors to work with.

“What’s this?” Kristen said, approaching the table.

I startled. I’d been so involved in coloring the picture with Logan, I hadn’t paid attention to anyone else in the restaurant. The clatter of dishes and customer chatter had faded into the background.

With Emma in her arm, my sister grinned at me. “My little bro up at the crack of dawn? Will miracles ever cease?”

I waved at my niece. She made a cute sound that I translated as “Hi, Uncle Jared!”

“You’re a real comedian, sis. Besides it isn’t
that
early.”

“It’s seven-thirty Saturday morning. For you, that’s early.”

She had a point. For the pre-Logan me, seven-thirty on a Saturday morning had been pretty much unheard of. “Logan, do you remember Emma and Auntie Kristen?” The word “auntie” slipped out before I could stop it. I held my breath, waiting to see if he caught the mistake.

“Hi,” he said brightly, waved at his cousin, who returned the wave, and went back to coloring the giraffe.

Kristen sat opposite us with Emma on her lap. The toddler leaned forward and grabbed the fork in front of her.

“Where’s Callie?” my sister asked.

“She’s at her apartment. It’s just me and Logan for breakfast.”

“So what’s going on with you two? You finally dating or something?”

“No, just friends.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. There was nothing wrong with being friends, but I wanted more. I just didn’t know if “more” was a good thing at this point. Not when we had to consider what was best for Logan.

“Really? I could’ve sworn there was something more between you two. I’ve seen the way you look at her, all googly-eyed.”

I snorted a laugh. “You’ve been watching way too many of Emma’s favorite TV shows.”

Kristen’s gaze darted to Logan. I had no idea what Mom had told her, and I had no idea if she was aware that he was my son.

The waitress returned with our food. Logan’s eyes widened at the tower of whipped cream on his plate. He grabbed his fork and dived in.

“Would you like to order now?” she asked Kristen.

Emma banged her fork against the edge of the table. Maybe I could introduce her to Mason, then her first words would be enough to distract her mom from whatever she was thinking when it came to Callie and me. Kristen was a romantic at heart and believed in happily-ever-afters. Would she even approve of us being together, given my career? She had always loved Callie like a sister. She would hate to see either of us get hurt.

As she placed her order with the waitress, Kristen removed the utensil from her daughter’s chubby hand and returned it to the table.

Logan was busy eating the whipped cream off his pancakes. A white streak decorated his upper lip. The rest of the cream was brown, thanks to him stirring the chocolate syrup into it.

“I made mud,” he said proudly.

I laughed. “Now you just need gummy worms and it will look like worms and dirt. Do you want me to cut your pancakes?”

Fortunately, Kristen dropped the topic of Callie and me as we ate our food, our attention mostly on the two kids at the table.

“You know, being a father suits you,” she said at one point as I was helping Logan with his pancakes. My entire body froze. Fuck. This wasn’t how I wanted Logan to find out the truth.

My phone pinged. I glanced at him. He was peering at his aunt, the word “father” having caught his attention. Buying time while I frantically figured out how to talk my way out of this, at least until I could explain things to Kristen, I checked the text from Callie.
How’s breakfast?

Sorry you were so tired that you had to miss out on these amazing pancakes,
I typed.

She responded a moment later.
Are you trying to make me jealous?

Absolutely. Is it working?

Maybe
.

I chuckled and typed,
While we’re gone, you could work on your portfolio to illustrate kids’ books.

You’re not going to drop that, are you?

Nope, you’re too talented to let it go to waste.

LOL. I love you too. See you soon.

At her words, an unexpected warmth seeped in. She hadn’t meant that she was in love with me, but it didn’t stop me from wishing the words were real.

“It’s rude to text while at the table,” Kristen said, barely keeping in her laugh. Mom had reprimanded her about the same thing on more than one occasion.

I rolled my eyes and placed my phone on the table.

Fortunately, before the conversation could return to Kristen’s unexpected comment about me being a father, the waitress answered my silent prayers and returned with our bill.
Thank God!

After I paid it, we headed to the playground Kristen and I had practically grown up on. The equipment had long since been replaced. Now it was made from plastic in bright primary colors.

We were the only people here, other than an older couple walking their German shepherd along the path that cut past the playground.

Logan ran to the slide and scrambled up the ladder. Kristen slipped Emma into the empty baby swing.

“How much did Mom tell you?” I asked.

“About what?”

“About Logan.”

Kristen pushed the giggling Emma in her swing. “He’s a cute kid. I guess I’m just surprised. I hadn’t realized you and Callie had hooked up. And I’m especially surprised that you would have sex with a sixteen-year-old when you were twenty-one. Wouldn’t that have made her a minor?” A twinge of disappointment laced her tone.

Logan called out my name from the slide and waved. I returned the wave and watched him go down it. He ran back to the steps and climbed up again.

“I never had sex with Callie.” At least not back when Logan was conceived. Never mind that she would’ve been seventeen, not sixteen, when it happened. That was beside the point.

Logan waved at me again and slid down the slide once more.

“Oh, God.” Kristen’s gaze swung to mine and her eyes widened. “He’s Alexis’s son, isn’t he? And she’s dead.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that. And he doesn’t know yet that I’m his father.”

Logan bounded over to us and pointed at the swing. I picked him up and hugged him, then placed him on the seat.

I could tell Kristen was itching to question me about her nephew and my relationship with Callie, but she wisely kept her million questions to herself. While the odds were good Logan wouldn’t hear them, it was a risk I didn’t want to take. I still had to figure out how to tell him the truth.

And I still had to figure out how this would all work out in the end. With Logan. With the band. With Callie.

Thursday I spent the morning on my couch, working on the song that had played in my head for the past week. Once Pushing Limits hit the road, the days of writing new material would be over. The more songs we’d written before then, the easier it would be for the third album…if there was a third album. That depended on sales for
Tangled,
which was the name of both our second album and its title track.

I strummed the chord combinations I’d written so far, and made a slight adjustment from the D to the G chord. Better. My cell phone pinged a few times, but given that it was Mason, it could wait until after I picked Logan up from preschool. I’d promised to teach him how to play the guitar today. He had asked me how old I was when I’d begun playing, and when he discovered I’d been the same age as he was now, he asked me to teach him.

The kid-sized acoustic guitar sat proudly in the corner of my bedroom. Logan would feel the vibrations when he played, or at least that was the plan. Whether he could create music was anyone’s guess.

I finished the lyrics I’d been polishing for the past hour and left for Logan’s school. Raindrops splattered against the car windows, which made me think of Callie. Who was I kidding? Everything these days made me think of Callie.

Callie used to love jumping in puddles. The bigger the splash the better. She would say that puddle jumping made everything all right with the world, even if only for a few minutes. To her, it was worth the soaked shoes and socks. I wasn’t so sure about that.

The usual group of moms was already in the waiting area when I entered. Sarina nudged the mother next to her and gave a brief nod in my direct. As a single unit, they looked over at me, and I instantly knew something was wrong. The first thought was that it had to do with Logan, but if that had been true, Callie would have called me.

“Is it true?” Sarina asked.

I shrugged. “Is what true?”

“You’re Logan’s father and Callie is just his aunt?” But the way she said it suggested it wasn’t a question. Even if it was a lie, she had already made up her mind that it was the truth.

My body stiffened. “Where did you hear that?”

“It went viral about an hour ago.” Around the same time Mason started texting me.

One mother handed me her smartphone. The picture on the screen had been taken when Logan and I were at the playground with Kristen and Emma. I was hugging Logan by the swings. Fortunately, my sister and niece had been excluded from the shot.

I scrolled down and read the article from an online tabloid. In it, my relationship with Logan was outed, and the article mentioned that a high school sweetheart, who died in a traffic accident a few years ago, was his real mother. My mouth dropped open at how much information had been revealed, along with a few bonuses that were far from the truth, but since I couldn’t prove this, I’d have problems getting a retraction. Not that it mattered at this point. The truth was out there for the world to see, and it was out there before Callie and I had told Logan.

Fuck.

“Is it true you’re fighting Callie for the custodial rights to your son?” Sarina asked. “I can’t believe the nerve of her, thinking she has any rights to him. She’s only his aunt.” She made a huffing noise, like the whole idea personally wounded her.

My cell phone pinged. This time I did read Mason’s text:
Would you goddamn respond???

The song I had programmed for Nolan played. “What’s up?” I answered, walking away from the group.

“Shit, man. Have you seen the story that went viral about you and Logan?” he asked.

I ripped my hand through my hair. “Yeah, I just read it.”

“Does Callie know about it?”

“I have no idea. If she knows, she hasn’t contacted me. I do know, though, that she had nothing to do with it.” As it was, she was going to be spitting lava once she learned the truth was now out there.

“What are you going to do?”

“Fuck if I know. I mean, other than telling Logan before he finds out from someone else.” I inwardly groaned. This was exactly what Callie had feared. And if one tabloid had picked up the story, it was guaranteed that others would jump on the chance to tear it wide open too. Everyone we knew would be hounded for details. As it was, I had no idea how they’d even found out that Callie was Logan’s aunt and that Alexis was dead. “How the hell did you deal with it when your story was leaked to the media?”

“Not very well,” Nolan admitted. “But at least I didn’t have to go it alone. I had Hailey.”

“I doubt Callie’s going to be quite as understanding.”

“You’d be surprised. She cares for you more than you give her credit for. Look, if you want to skip practice today, we understand.”

“No, it’s fine.” The classroom door opened and the kids paraded from the room. “I have to go now. I’ll talk to you soon.” I ended the call and waited for Logan.

A hushed whisper fell over the room. Curious glances darted in my direction. If there was ever a moment signaling impending doom, this would be it.

A gray-haired teacher stepped through the doorway and scanned the area. Her gaze landed on me. “Mr. Leigh, if you could come with me, please?”

“Is something wrong?”

The you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me expression was the only answer I needed. I followed her into the classroom. This was the first time I’d been inside it, and it was exactly what I’d expected. The tables and chairs were kid-sized, as were the shelves scattered around the room, with their colorful storage containers. A huge alphabet rug, with pictures alongside their corresponding letters, sat in the reading corner. The classroom had been designed to be bright and cheery, a place where a kid would want to come to learn.

Unfortunately, the four-year-old sitting on a chair was anything but bright or cheery. Logan’s gaze was glued to the table, his arms folded tightly across his small chest. Another teacher was talking to him, but I couldn’t tell if he was listening or had tuned her out.

“What’s going on?” I asked, and squatted next to him. A bad feeling sliced through me, leaving a jagged edge. Sarina had mentioned that the article had gone viral an hour ago, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t seen it sooner.

When Logan didn’t answer, I glanced up at the teachers for help.

“Why don’t we go into my office, Mr. Leigh?” the gray-haired woman said. “Rachel, can you stay with Logan for a few minutes?”

The younger woman nodded.

“Logan, are you okay if I go off with…?” I glanced at the gray-haired woman.

“I’m Mrs. Mansfield. The assistant principal.”

I followed her into her office and took the chair in front of her desk that she’d gestured at. Logan’s classroom might have been bright and cheery, but it was clear that Mrs. Mansfield preferred a less upbeat, blander space to work in. It was simply furnished, with just the basic necessities—a desk, bookshelf, filing cabinet, chairs, all in black. The only artwork on the walls was a single large painting of a mountainous landscape at sunset, done in a fiery red, the harbinger of doom. It was also the only splash of real color in the room.

She walked to her seat and sat back in her chair. An urge struck me to remove my lucky guitar pick from my pocket. I fought back the impulse.

“One of the students came to class this morning,” she said, “and told Logan that you’re his father and Callie was only his aunt. The individual also told him that his real parents didn’t want him, and that’s why Logan is living with his aunt. Understandably, this upset Logan, and he hit the other child.”

Shit.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or do. If I had foreseen all of this, I could’ve been better prepared. As it was, I was still struggling with the idea of being a father. I knew nothing about it, other than I wanted to be like my own father, who I admired and respected.

“I suggest you take Logan home and talk to him about how he’s feeling. And I would like you and Callie to meet with our school counselor.” She released a slow breath. “Is it true you’re involving the courts in a custody battle?”

“I only found out two weeks ago that I’m a father, and I’m still coming to terms with it. Logan loves Callie and I don’t want to destroy their relationship. That’s all I know.” It was pretty much the truth. She didn’t need to know the rest. I was sure she wouldn’t approve of the fact that Callie and I were just testing the waters, with no actual plans of making things permanent between us. That wasn’t what Logan needed.

He needed a family.