My heart stopped beating as I did the mental math. There had to be a mistake. Logan couldn’t be my son.
I looked at where the father’s name should’ve been listed. Alexis hadn’t declared his name. What were the odds the baby hadn’t been mine after all?
Without thinking, I opened the other envelope. Inside it were legal documents. I skimmed them very quickly, realizing that they named Callie as Logan’s legal guardian.
The question about the odds that Logan wasn’t mine was not the only one firing around in my head. Why was Callie claiming Logan was her son? She had given up on her dream of working as an animator for Pixar, but why? And where was Alexis? Had she gotten up one morning and decided that being a mother wasn’t in her plans after all? That Doctors Without Borders was more important to her?
The questions kept circulating, but one specifically kept coming back—did Callie know who the father was, or had Alexis lied to her? Or maybe Alexis didn’t know who the father was. She liked sex. There could’ve easily been other guys. Any one of them could’ve been responsible for creating Logan.
I could’ve asked Callie, but what would I say? I was snooping in her drawers. She wouldn’t appreciate that. And Callie had been lying to me about her relationship to Logan. Who was to say she wouldn’t continue to lie about the real father, assuming she knew who he was?
I returned the birth certificates to the drawer and yanked my phone from my back pocket. I needed answers, and there was only one person I could think of who could give them to me. But I no longer had Alexis’s number, nor did I have any idea where she lived—or if she was even in the United States. Maybe she was working overseas as a nurse after all, and Callie was looking after Logan while she was gone. But then why was Callie lying about being his mother? And what kind of mother left her young child so that she could volunteer overseas for a few years?
I ignored the loud voice in my head pointing out that maybe Callie’s parents weren’t the only ones who had died in the car accident.
I sent Callie a text: What’s Alexis’s #? I need to talk to her.
She finally responded an hour later, confirming my worst fears.
Callie: She was in the same car accident that killed my parents. She also died.
When I was fifteen and playing football, I’d been about to hurl the ball to my teammate when one of the guys from the opposite team forgot what the “touch” in touch football meant. His shoulder made contact with my stomach, hard, causing me to land on my ass and knocking the air out of me.
That was the best way to describe how I felt after reading Callie’s text. I sat down on her bed, struggling to get the air back into my lungs.
Callie’s text was followed up a moment later with: Why did you need to talk to her?
“Because I want to know if I’m Logan’s goddamn father,” I muttered. “The only biological parent he has left.” But instead of telling her that, I typed: I’m sorry, Callie. I didn’t realize. Don’t worry. It’s nothing important.
I waited a minute, hoping she would text me right back and admit that Logan was my son . . . but she didn’t. And why would she? She had no idea that I knew Alexis was his biological mother.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard as I deliberated if I should ask her if Logan was my son. No, not yet. Before I could confront her with what I knew, there was one other person I needed to consult with first.
I skimmed through my list of contacts.
16
Callie
“You’re on break now,” Alice said, walking past me on her way out of the diner kitchen.
“Okay.” I returned to my locker and checked my phone to make sure everything was all right at home. Not that I expected there to be a problem. Logan was still at school.
Jared had sent me a text: What’s Alexis’s #? I need to talk to her.
My heart slammed to a standstill at his words and my mind spun with all kinds of reasons as to why he wanted to know—including the one involving last night’s kiss. He’d kissed me and realized how much he wanted Alexis back in his life. He’d never wanted me. It was always my sister.
I deliberated all the possible answers I could give him, which included that I had no idea what her number was or where she lived. But then he would want to know what had happened to cause this apparent rift between her and me. Despite the six-year age difference between Alexis and me, I had loved my sister. I couldn’t lie and pretend otherwise.
With an ache in my chest at what I had to tell him and at how he wanted her back—and how our kiss had made him realize that—I responded with the truth.
Me: She was in the same car accident that killed my parents. She also died.
And because I obviously felt the need to torture myself some more, I added: Why did you need to talk to her?
A moment later he replied: I’m sorry, Callie. I didn’t realize. Don’t worry. It’s nothing important.
Don’t worry, it’s not you I want, his real meaning shouted in my head. It’s your sister. It’s always been your sister.
I swept the pieces of my heart into the dusty corner, then headed outside for my break.
17
Jared
Fortunately, that afternoon during band practice Mason didn’t give me a hard time about the similarities between Logan and me. I might have exploded if he had. We threw ourselves into what we had to do for the next few weeks. Yes, Callie had lied to me—making her no better than her sister, if my suspicions were correct. But I couldn’t let her betrayal and the news about Alexis sidetrack me from what was important to the band and me.
Hailey wasn’t here this time, but Logan kept himself busy. When he wasn’t watching us, he sat on the couch and played a game on my iPhone.
I tapped him on the shoulder and signed, “Time to go home.”
Back at his apartment, I opened the door and the delicious smell of dinner greeted us. Callie entered the hallway and smiled at her nephew. Her yoga pants and plain green T-shirt skimmed her curves, reminding me how amazing she had felt in my hands last night.
I kicked that thought hard in the ass.
She hugged him tight. “Did you have fun with Jared?”
“Yes. I meet the puppy.” He wiggled out of her arms.
“Puppy? Which puppy?”
“His friend’s puppy. You come too?” His face was so hopeful, I smiled despite everything.
For the first time since I’d entered the apartment, Callie looked at me, her lush lower lip caught between her teeth. She quickly turned away, but not before I caught the hurt glistening in her eyes—because I’d inadvertently brought up the past by asking about Alexis.
“When?” Callie asked.
“Next Friday,” I said in a surprisingly calm voice. “Hailey’s working that day, so it’d be after she finishes work. I figured we could swing by and pick you up from the diner on the way.”
For a second it looked like she was going to say no, but I wasn’t the only person who hadn’t built up an immunity to Logan’s expression. Christ knew I had trouble saying no to it.
“All right,” she said to Logan. Then to me she said, “Are . . . are you staying for dinner?”
“No. I already have plans.”
She nodded as if everything was fine. As if we hadn’t kissed last night. As if she hadn’t been lying to me all this time. “Well, I guess we’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again.” She glanced at her nephew. “Logan, say thank you to Jared for looking after you today.”
“Thank you.” He threw his arms around my legs and hugged me.
Fuck, what was I going to do if he really was my son?
Cameron was waiting for me in the lounge when I arrived, with two beers on the table in front of him. The place wasn’t busy yet, but the L.A. Kings were playing on TV tonight (according to Kirk), so I wouldn’t have been surprised if the place filled up soon.
I sat across from Cameron, relieved the nearby tables were empty. This was one conversation I didn’t need anyone accidentally
overhearing.
He slid a beer toward me. “Here, you sounded like you might need this.”
“You might just be right. It depends on what you have to tell me.”
“So, what’s up?”
That was what I had always appreciated about my old classmate—he was straightforward and always to the point.
“You practice family law, right?”
“That’s right.”
I gulped back some beer and sat back in my chair. The irony of the seat being red wasn’t lost on me. It was Callie’s favorite color. The color could also mean so many things. Sex. Danger. Anger. Power. Love. I would’ve been more than happy to take the first and the last one, but those options weren’t available to me right now. And if my suspicions were correct, they wouldn’t be after this conversation either. At least not with Callie.
“I might have a situation, and I’m not sure what to do about it.” I told him about Alexis, about Logan and Callie, and about the birth certificate. The entire time I spoke, he just listened, his calm demeanor not hinting at what he thought about it all.
“Have you asked Callie if she knows who the father is?” he asked once I was finished.
“I’ve tried, but she avoids giving me a straight answer.”
“Is there a chance Logan belongs to someone else?”
“There’s a good possibility. It was a one-time thing. Anyone could be his father.” But not everyone would result in a child who resembled me at the same age. I handed Cameron the photo and pointed out the similarities between Logan and me.
“If you asked Callie, do you think she would tell you?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. I have a feeling she’ll deny it. Is there a way I can find out the truth without involving her? That way, if I’m not the father, she can continue lying about being his mother and it has nothing to do with me.”
“And what if it turns out you are the father? Are you ready for that kind of responsibility, Jared? From what you’ve described, Callie is perfectly happy caring for Logan without any assistance from you. Why not walk away and let her be?” He wasn’t suggesting I do exactly that. His tone implied that I should consider all possibilities before making a move I might later regret.
“If Logan is mine, then he’s my responsibility. I owe it to him.”
“Are you dating Callie?”
I shook my head. “We’re just friends.” But could we still be friends if my suspicions were right and Logan was my son? All she had done since we’d met at the store was lie to me when it came to him. Just like Alexis had done when she said she had aborted our child.
“Your responsibility to the boy would be purely financial, then?”
“Well, no. I want to be there for him as a father too.” Like my father was always there for me.
“So you’re looking at shared custody with the mother?”
“I’m looking at custody, yes. But I don’t know if Callie is his adoptive mother.” All I’d found were documents stating that she was Logan’s legal guardian.
Cameron nodded slowly. “This could get interesting. But first things first. We need to determine if you are indeed the biological father.”
“How do we do that?”
“You and the boy would go to a third-party DNA collection site. I can arrange an appointment for you if you want.”
“Will it hurt Logan?” That was the last thing I wanted to do to him. None of this was his fault.
“No. The technician wipes a swab on the inside of your mouth. It’s easy to do and painless.”
The weight of two tour buses fell from my shoulders at his words, and I nodded. “Does it matter that his biological mother is dead?”
“No. They will only compare your DNA to Logan’s. The results through the lab I deal with are ninety-nine-point-nine percent accurate. If the test comes back showing that you are his father, we can use the result in court if it comes to that.”
A small part of me asked what the hell was I thinking. Cameron was right. If Callie was keeping the truth from me, then why was I so eager to make my life more complicated than it needed to be? But a large part of me couldn’t walk away, just as I hadn’t been able to walk away when Alexis first told me she was pregnant.
“How long before we know the result?” I asked.
“Generally three to five days.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My decision was still the same. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
18
Jared
When we were kids and still believed in Santa, time enjoyed tormenting us. The closer you got to Christmas, the slower each second ticked by—or so it seemed. By the morning of Christmas Eve, it felt like the twenty-four hour clock had added another forty-eight hours and Christmas morning would never come.
The same could be said when it came to waiting for news that could change your life. Tony said something, but I had no idea what. I’d been like this for the past four days, ever since Logan and I had gone to the lab for DNA testing on Monday. I’d been so distracted while practicing with the band, Mason had all but told me to pull up my big-girl panties and get with the program.
Or maybe he had said that. I couldn’t remember.
All I was capable of was staring at Logan on the playground slide, mentally freaking out at what the test result would mean. So far I had no idea what I would do if it came back positive—or how I would feel.
I was just relieved that Logan hadn’t mentioned the trip to the lab or the test to Callie. Guilt stomped through me at how not only had I kept the truth about it a secret from her, I had bribed Logan to keep quiet about it. I’d told him that he and I were just checking that we didn’t have what Sharon had, then took him out for ice cream afterward. That way if he did tell Callie, she would’ve had no idea what we had really been up to.
My phone rang in my back pocket. As I pulled it out, my fingers were shaky, as they’d been each time it had rung in the past four days.
I checked the number and my heart slammed hard against my ribs, possibly fracturing a few of them. Cameron. I accepted the call. “Do you have the result?”
“I do.”
“Hold on a second,” I told him. To Tony I said, “I have to take this call. Can you watch Logan for me?”
“Sure.”
I strode away from the playground equipment, far enough to talk to Cameron in private, but close enough so I could still see Logan on the kiddy-climbing wall. “Okay, give it to me.”
“He’s your son.”
At those three simple words, it was as if the air in my lungs had been squeezed out and not a single molecule of oxygen remained. It felt like a lifetime before I was capable of taking another breath. “So what now?”
“It’s up to you, but I suggest you talk to Callie first before you proceed. For starters, you need to find out the legal relationship between Callie and Logan. The answer will affect how we proceed next. But I ask you one more time, as your legal counsel and friend: Are you sure you want to proceed with this?”
Logan giggled from the platform and waved at me, a wide grin on his face. My heart, which was still slamming hard against my ribs, swelled for a second. “I’m positive.”
“Okay, I’ll wait for your call.” We spoke for another minute or two before ending the conversation. I inhaled deeply and walked over to . . . my son. Shit. What the hell did I know about being a parent? I was just getting the hang of being an uncle to a toddler. A father to a four-year-old who happened to be deaf was completely different.
And how was I supposed to tell Logan that I was his father? I couldn’t just blurt that out on the playground: Hey, guess what? I’m the asshole dad who hasn’t been around in your life. I needed to talk to Callie first, and then I could tell him the truth. Somehow.
Logan rushed over. “Can we eat lunch with Mommy? Want fries and milkshake.”
My insides tightened at his request. Ever since the incident with the kiss and then the damning birth certifica
te, I’d avoided Callie as much as possible. When I arrived at her apartment so she could go to work, she hadn’t had time to talk to me before she had to rush out. And those few moments we did have had been filled with tension. I could only guess that she was still upset about the kiss.
Well, the kiss was now the least of her problems.
“Sure,” I told Logan. “Why not?”
We said goodbye to Ben and Tony and drove to the diner. Alice took us to the same booth as before. Callie showed up a couple of minutes later with the chocolate milkshakes.
She gave me a hesitant smile. Even with the lies and betrayal circulating between us, the smile gave me a weird sense of hope. Added to that was the desire to taste her mouth again—only this time I craved more than a brief kiss.
I seriously needed to have “idiot resides here” tattooed on my forehead.
Like last time, Callie returned with our food and sat next to Logan. “How was preschool?” my deceptive ex-friend asked.
“It was good.” Logan popped the milkshake straw in his mouth and sucked down a good portion of his drink.
“Mrs. Rogers called this morning. She’s feeling better and will look after you again starting tomorrow.” She paused. “I thought maybe we could cook dinner for Jared tonight, to thank him for everything he’s done for us.”
My milkshake went down the wrong way and I started coughing. Sure—I donated the sperm, and you make me dinner to say thanks.
“Are you okay?” she asked with more concern than she had the right to feel.
“I’m fine. Dinner sounds great.” And because I felt like being an asshole, I asked, “So what exactly happened to Alexis and your parents? How did they die?” For a second, regret kicked me hard in the chest, both for being an asshole by asking Callie the question while she was at work and because her parents and sister weren’t just statistics. They were people I knew and cared about in one way or another.
My Song For You (Pushing Limits Book 2) Page 11