by Skye Jordan
Gypsy blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Deanna helped them to the car with kisses for Belle and a supportive smile for Gypsy. Once on the road, Gypsy used her console to put in another call to Wyatt.
The call immediate connected to his voicemail, and Gypsy’s heart dropped. Her mind darted to possible solutions to this situation. She could call Dylan or Emma, Miranda or Jack, but they were all working, and there was no telling how long it would take them to get free.
She had to accept it. There was no way Cooper was getting to the doctor’s office in time for his appointment, which meant there would be no superhero camp for her boy. Emma could sign off on his physical, but she couldn’t disobey hospital protocol regarding vaccinations without jeopardizing her job. Gypsy’s only hope was that Emma was working in the ER and could vaccinate Cooper while also treating Belle’s arm.
She put in a call to Dylan.
“Hey,” Dylan answered. “What’s up?”
“Hi. Sorry to bug you—”
“You never bug me. How many times do I need to tell you that?”
Gypsy wondered if she’d ever feel like she wasn’t bugging her family. Maybe when she could stop using them as overnight babysitters. “Thanks. I’m calling to see if Emma’s working today.”
“No, no,” he said. Their daughter’s sweet cooing sound came over the speaker. “She worked noon to twelve yesterday, so she’s sleeping. She has today off, but she’ll probably be awake in a few hours. I’ll have her call you.”
Gypsy’s last hope circled the drain, right along with her self-esteem. “No, that’s okay. But thanks. I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow.”
Gypsy stopped at a red light and closed her eyes on a flood of self-recrimination. She’d made her share of mistakes with Cooper, but there was no doubt that this was her biggest mom-fail to date.
And, shit, he was only three years old.
Right then and there, she reupped her dedication to focusing on giving Cooper everything she’d never had in a mother, which meant keeping men out of her life.
Even Wyatt Jackson.
17
Wyatt and Paisley strummed their guitars while they sang the lyrics they’d written together.
Paisley stopped singing and reached over her guitar for the pencil to make a note on the music sheet. “You’re right, that last note should definitely be a G.”
They played it again with the new chords and smiled at each other, knowing they’d gotten it right.
“Man,” Wyatt said, setting his guitar aside. “My agent’s going to be stoked that we finished this.”
“Mine too.” Paisley stood and stretched. “It’s amazing how much work you can get done when you’re hidden in the basement.”
Wyatt would hardly call this space a basement. It was a completely soundproofed music studio with all the bells and whistles. And he’d really enjoyed his time with Paisley. It felt good to work again. To sing and play and compose again. He loved his work. He also loved the idea of building his own studio so he could continue working and producing while staying closer to Gypsy and Cooper and Belle.
They had a sweet little family forming, and the idea of it made Wyatt smile. Made him tingle inside.
A knock came at the studio door, then it opened, and Paisley’s son bounced in. He was a little younger than Cooper and dressed in footy pajamas, his hair wet like he’d just come out of the bath.
Pajamas. Bath. A strike of fear pierced Wyatt’s chest.
While Paisley cuddled with her son, Wyatt cut a look around the studio for some reference to the time, but there were no windows, so he couldn’t look outside. He reached for his phone in his back pocket, but it was gone. He cut a look around the horizontal surfaces and caught sight of it through the windows to the mixing room.
He pushed to his feet with the weirdest sensation of panic trilling across his nerves. “What time is it?”
“It’s got to be almost eight,” Paisley said, running a hand over her son’s wet head. “Eight is Sammy’s bedtime.”
Eight? Eight o’clock at night?
“Oh, Jesus.” Panic created a fiery spiral straight down his spine. Kailey’s mom had offered to watch Belle until dinnertime. But, damn, it was way past. “I’m late.”
He moved into the mixing room and swept his phone off the counter, relived to find there weren’t a ton of voice and text messages. He breathed a little easier. Kailey’s mom had probably taken it in stride. The kids were probably happily playing. He’d definitely have to pay Kailey’s mom twice what she’d asked for.
With a sigh of relief, he tapped into his phone and called Kailey’s mom to let her know he’d be there soon. He held the phone to his ear and waited for the dial tone, but nothing happened.
“Oh, you won’t get service down here,” Paisley said easily, as if it didn’t matter. “You’ll have to get to the top of the stairs before—”
He didn’t wait to hear the rest of that sentence. He bounded up the stairs and tried to place the call again. But before the call went through, a series of dings chorused in the air, signaling numerous text messages. But they weren’t from Kailey’s mom. They were from Gypsy.
Where are you? Let me know you’re all right, please.
Belle was hurt at school. Why did you put me on as her emergency contact? Where the hell are you?
Call me when you get this. As in yesterday.
“Oh my God.” Wyatt wiped a hand down his face. His stomach dropped to his feet. A steel strap tightened around his chest. “Fuck me.”
He passed Paisley and dropped his guitar into the case. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Send me the rough sheet,” he said on his way to the stairs again. “We can set up another time to polish it.”
“Sure.”
He bolted up the stairs two at a time, his heart beating in his throat. He couldn’t connect the dots to get an idea of where Belle would be now. Jesus Christ, he’d lost track of a kid. A kid who depended on him for stability.
Self-loathing burned a path down his torso as he hit the top stair and swung the door to the main floor open.
At the front door, more messages pinged his phone. These were voicemails. His heart slammed against his ribs as he tapped into the first voicemail from Gypsy.
“Jackson,” she said, her voice tight. “If you’re not dead, you’re going to wish you were when I get ahold of you. Belle broke her fucking arm at school. What were you thinking, putting me on the list as her emergency contact without asking?”
Wyatt dropped his head back and closed his eyes. His stomach burned with fear, his throat thick with regret. “Ah, fuck.”
In the next message, the heat had drained from her voice, leaving her sounding irritable, exhausted, and oddly detached. “We’re still at Vanderbilt. Get your ass down to the emergency room when you get this.”
18
Gypsy was exhausted—physically, mentally and emotionally. And her heart felt like an empty shell that would crack with any more pressure.
Belle and Cooper were both sprawled across Gypsy, asleep. Both kids wore streaks on their faces where tears had made multiple tracks down their cheeks. Gypsy couldn’t look much better. After they’d fallen asleep, Gypsy had cried as well. For their pain, their disappointment, their fear. And for disappointment in herself.
She’d fucked up her life in a lot of ways, but since she’d discovered she was pregnant, Gypsy had purposely and deliberately started down another path. For Cooper.
But she’d let him down today, in a big way. And she hated herself for it.
The tingle in her left arm was so intense, it ached, and she had to shift beneath the dead weight of two sleeping children to inch herself into a better position, careful not to jostle Belle’s bad arm. The break turned out to be worse than first thought. Deanna was right about the broken wrist, but Belle had also cracked her ulna and had to have a full cast placed.
By then, Cooper had figured out they’d missed his doctor’s appointme
nt and kept asking if he was still going to camp. As soon as she’d told him the truth, he’d joined Belle in meltdown mode. His disappointment had broken Gypsy’s heart and made her feel like the worst mother in the world.
By the time she realized she wasn’t going to make it to the bar by the time it opened, she’d had to call in Miranda to help get Brandy acclimated, which was made worse by the fact that Jack had gotten home today after being gone a week, and Gypsy had, yet again, pulled Miranda away from him.
They’d been in the ER almost five hours, much longer than usual because of a multi-victim trauma that had come in and taken priority, and Gypsy was long past ready to get out of here. She still didn’t know what was going to happen with payment for this visit. She certainly didn’t have the cash to pay a bill of this kind, but to get out of here and get home, she’d be willing to put it on a credit card. Belle had pain meds and X-rays and cast setting. Gypsy wasn’t even sure the limit on her credit card would cover the expense.
A nurse’s aide stopped in the doorway and popped her head through the break in the curtain. In a whisper, she asked, “Can I get you anything?”
Some common sense.
A time machine to rewind several days of her life so she could let Wyatt deal with his own shit.
“Release papers would be nice,” she said instead.
“Your nurse is working on them right now.”
Gypsy nodded. “Can I get a couple of juice boxes? They’re not going to be in the best moods when they wake up.”
“You bet.”
“Thank you.” When the girl moved on, Gypsy closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the chair. She felt hollow with disappointment. Heavy with a sense of abandonment.
She sat here holding someone else’s problem, literally. Again. It really was a theme in her life. One she’d worked so hard to overcome. She’d taken care of her step siblings for her father and stepmother. She’d taken care of celebrities for her club. She’d taken on sole responsibility for Cooper when his douchebag father wanted to abort him.
She tried so hard to break the ugly cycle. She’d stayed in the States when her family had moved to Switzerland. She’d quit her job at the club to free herself of the celebrity garbage. She’d bargained for full custody of Cooper, and she’d bought and run her own successful bar.
She’d actually started to feel in control of her life for a change.
And then…Wyatt.
Fucking Wyatt.
God, would she ever learn?
Voices drifted through the ER. People passed the room again and again. Gypsy had caught snippets of a hundred different conversations.
Then the slide of metal along metal brought Gypsy’s eyes open to Wyatt standing in the doorway.
A rush of relief brought on a flood of tears. Until right this second, she hadn’t realized how worried she’d been that something had actually happened to him.
His gaze darted to the kids, held on Belle’s cast. Pain flashed in his eyes. He slid a hand down his face, paused over his mouth, and murmured, “Oh my God,” with all the shock and guilt the situation warranted.
Before she could ask where he’d been, Cooper stirred. His whiney “Mommy” signaled a very tired, very frustrated, very upset three-year-old tantrum on the near horizon.
Belle on the other hand, didn’t budge. She was sacked out and rightfully so. She’d spent hours in fear and pain.
“Gypsy…” Wyatt started.
“Take Cooper,” she told him, “or he’ll hurt Belle.”
Wyatt slipped his hands around Cooper’s middle and lifted him off Gypsy. “Hey, buddy.”
The nurse’s aide came in with juice, along with the nurse and the discharge papers.
“Can you help me with Belle?” Gypsy asked the women. “I’m afraid to move her arm.”
The nurses stepped in and helped Gypsy move a still-sleeping Belle to the gurney, while Cooper very loudly told Wyatt all about the biggest disaster of Cooper’s little life—missing out on superhero camp.
Now, divested of the two sweaty little Klingons, Gypsy took a deep breath and shook out her tingling limbs. She thanked the nurse’s aide and took the juice boxes, then asked the nurse, “Can we have a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
The two women left, pulling the curtain closed behind them. Gypsy stepped forward and pulled the glass door shut. Having Wyatt walk into the ER was sure to be in the entertainment news before they’d even walked out. No need to give the leeches any more material than necessary.
“Gypsy, I’m so sorry.”
The pain in Wyatt’s voice was genuine, but she was too far gone for it to affect her. As soon as she’d seen that he was safe and well, all her walls clicked into place. She’d already overextended herself, and Cooper had paid the price.
“I was working with Paisley on our duet, and we were in her home studio, and it’s in the basement. I guess the soundproofing killed my cell service…”
The more he explained, the angrier she got. Gypsy ripped the plastic straw from the outside of the juice box, pulled off the plastic, and jabbed it into the hole, then handed it to Cooper.
His diatribe then turned to Cooper. “Man, I’m so sorry about camp, buddy, I’ll—”
Gypsy leaned in and covered Cooper’s ears with her hands, meeting Wyatt’s gaze directly. “Don’t you dare make him any promises.”
“But I can get him in. I’ll call the camp. I don’t care if I have to donate a new building, I’ll get him back into that fucking camp.”
She uncovered Cooper’s ears, and he rested his head against Wyatt’s chest, sucking on his juice. The sight broke Gypsy’s heart. This could have been so good—for Gypsy, for Cooper, for Belle, for Wyatt. But fate had her own ideas. At least she’d shown her hand before Gypsy was in even deeper with Wyatt. As it was, she felt like there was a hole where her heart usually lived.
“I’ve told you before that you can’t fix everything by throwing money at it.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen—”
“I realize that.” She cut him off, unwilling to hear everything she’d heard so many times before. “This situation is as much my fault as it is yours. I knew better than to get involved with you, but I didn’t listen to my instincts.”
“Wait, what?”
“Getting involved with someone automatically changes your priorities. I knew that, but somehow, I guess I hoped… It doesn’t matter. All that matters to me right now is being there for Cooper. And I failed today, in a big way.”
“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
She released a frustrated breath and took Cooper from Wyatt’s arms. “If I hadn’t gotten involved with you, you wouldn’t have put me on Belle’s emergency contact list. And if I wasn’t on her list, I would have gotten to Cooper’s doctor’s appointment. Not only would I have a happy kid now, I could have trained my new manager myself instead of calling in Miranda—who I already depend on too much.”
Wyatt rubbed his face with both hands. “Don’t do this, Gypsy. It was a mistake. An innocent mistake. I messed up and I feel horrible about it—”
“I believe you. And I agree, it was an innocent mistake. But it was a mistake that reminded me why I stopped dating. I can’t do this with you. You’re a good friend and a good guy, but we can’t be involved. I’m sorry.”
She reached out and pulled open the glass door.
Wyatt put a hand on her arm. “Come on, Gypsy. There’s got to be some middle ground here. Let’s talk it out.”
She shook her head. “No. The kids are too young to be complicating priorities with a relationship. They need us on our best game, and this isn't our best game. We’re both better than this.” She glanced at Belle, and tears stung Gypsy’s eyes, but she still met Wyatt’s gaze directly. “She’s a brave little girl, and she deserves better. So do I, and so does Cooper." She laid her hand on the papers sitting on a silver bed tray. "These are your discharge instructions."
1
9
Wyatt was about to reach for her again, but she stepped away, exiting the emergency room without looking back.
His heart dropped to his stomach, but frustration still tightened his shoulders. She was acting like he’d been out partying, purposely abandoning Belle.
“Uncle Wyatt?” Belle’s weak, tear filled voice dragged a razor down his spine.
He spun toward her and stepped up beside the bed, running his hand over her forehead and into her hair. It was all tangled, with knots that would be hell to get out. Her face was pale, her cheeks tearstained.
“Hey. You had a pretty rough day, huh?”
Sniffles and tears started up. “Where were you?”
There was no accusation in her tone, just honest bewilderment, but the fact that she had to ask almost took his legs out from under him. He leaned on the gurney. “I was working, honey. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
She looked at her cast, and the tears started to pour. “I don’t like this. I want it off.”
“I know, honey. How did you hurt yourself?”
“On the swings.” She pushed her tears off her cheek with her good hand. “I fell off.” She started crying harder. “I want Mommy. When is M-Mommy coming h-home?”
Belle wanting her mother and Gypsy walking away were the final cracks in his unstable life. All the weaknesses in his world gave way, and he felt his life crumbling.
Wyatt eased Belle to the far side of the gurney, then climbed on beside her. He pulled her close and stroked her hair, something that calmed her at night. She pressed her face to his chest and sobbed. Wyatt’s heart cracked. He closed his eyes and rested an arm across his eyes.
But when Belle showed no signs of calming, he knew it was time to do what he’d sworn he wouldn’t do. He pulled out his phone and dialed.