Текст книги "Tie Me"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Ten

Dawn shoved the pillow off her head and blinked in the bright sunshine streaming through the open blinds of her bedroom. It had to be close to noon. Why was she still so exhausted? She smiled as memories of the night she’d shared with Kellen filtered through her thoughts. She couldn’t wait to add to her pleasant experiences today. She was a bit disappointed to find his side of the bed empty, but she vaguely recalled him murmuring her name to awaken her and her foolishly demanding coffee. Who needed coffee with that man as her wake-up call? She’d just been a bit groggy and obviously out of her mind. She was wide awake now. Still naked, she slipped out of bed and padded down the hall to the stairs.

“Kellen,” she called down into the foyer below. “I changed my mind. I don’t need coffee. I just need you.”

When he didn’t answer, she continued down the stairs. “Kellen, come out, come out, wherever you are.”

She entered the kitchen and noticed a full carafe of coffee sitting untouched in the coffee maker. The power was obviously back on. It had been sweet of him to make coffee for her, but why hadn’t he rejoined her in bed once he’d finished making it?

“Kellen, are you down here?” she called, peeking over the breakfast bar into the family room, where the piano sat as silent as a stone. Bits of rope littered the piano’s lid and the floor. Dawn smiled. She would always remember the feel of it pressing into her skin and opening her eyes to truths she hadn’t recognized about herself. It was a shame that the rope had been cut and was now unusable. She wondered if there was any spare rope in the garage beneath the house. If not, she was all about making a trip to the nearest hardware store for supplies.

She wasn’t sure where Kellen had wandered off to. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or maybe he’d taken a walk on the beach. She always found the most interesting goodies washed up on the shore after a storm. She completely understood the draw of the water. She turned back to the kitchen. When she opened a cabinet, she noticed the broken mug in the sink. She picked up a large shard of ceramic and caught sight of the big yellow house next door. Kellen’s house, she realized with a smile. She looked again at the broken mug, at the full coffee carafe. At Kellen’s house. Her smile faded. Sara’s house, she corrected herself.

Shit. He’d left, hadn’t he? Saw that gorgeous, empty house across the way, started thinking about her again—Sara—and ran away.

Even after all they’d shared the night before, he still hadn’t given up that other woman. What a jerk! If all he’d wanted from her was sex, he could have just been straight with her. He didn’t have to pretend to be so wonderful. She was a big girl. And even though her heart was aching so badly she could scarcely breathe and her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably, Dawn was not going to cry over this. She refused to let a single tear fall. She kicked a lower cabinet as hard as she could and winced when her toe exploded with pain.

“Damn him,” she muttered. “He could have at least had the decency to tell me to my face that he wasn’t interested.”

Determined to have a great day despite the dark cloud that was suddenly obscuring her sunshine from the inside out, Dawn poured herself a cup of coffee and went to sulk—contemplate life—at her piano. She righted the piano bench, which had been overturned during all those wonderfully sensual activities she refused to dwell upon, and plopped down. She dribbled coffee down her bare front when she noticed Kellen’s handwritten note.

She snatched it from the music stand and read it three times before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it on the floor.

“Entertaining evening,” she muttered under her breath. “Was that what it was to you? Because it was magical to me, you ass!” She didn’t know why she was yelling at her piano, but it felt right. “You’re sorry it didn’t work out between us. How could it work out? You didn’t even give it a chance. I hope you choke on your guitar.” She wasn’t sure why he’d have his guitar in his mouth, but she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to come up with better ill wishes.

She turned sideways on the bench and pulled her legs up against her body, hugging both shins and burying her face against her bent knees. She was not going to cry over him. Not going to cry. Those hot, wet droplets coming from her eyes and running down her thighs were not tears. Nope. Not crying for a guy who’d love another woman until the day he died. Not crying over a man who had taken a chance with her but decided he’d rather return to a dead girl. She sniffed. She really wished she could hate him for that, but it just broke her heart.

When she decided she’d wallowed in misery long enough, she turned to her piano and practiced her new song. Kellen’s song. She would always think of it as Kellen’s song, even if she did name it “Dawn.” She began to feel better almost at once. The joyful melody lifted her spirits until her tears were forgotten and she was smiling to herself. She had to call her agent. He had to hear this song.

She dialed his number and had his secretary patch her through. As soon as she had him on the line, she interrupted his usual, “Any luck?” As if luck had anything to do with composing.

“Listen,” she said and put him on speaker phone so he could hear her. She played the piece from beginning to end. When the last note rang out, she stared at the phone, her heart hammering with excitement. The song was wonderful. Perfect. She knew it was. But she had to hear it from someone who would give it to her straight. “Well?”

There was a long pause. “I… I’m speechless,” he said.

What? Speechless? What did that mean? “Thanks for sharing. But is the song any good?”

“It’s phenomenal. I almost hate to hand it over. It’s too good to be closing credit music for some movie.”

“But it will be heard, Wes. Well, by those who stay for the credits, at least. I’m just glad I finally wrote something worth listening to.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Dawn. Everything you write is inspired.”

She rolled her eyes. He thought that because he only ever heard her finished pieces. He’d never heard her bang out angry renditions of “Chopsticks” because it sounded better than the crap she was coming up with.

“So do you think you could get me an extra few days on my deadline? It’s finished, but I haven’t exactly written it down yet.”

“So write it down now.”

“I have something important that I need to do today,” she said and before her impetuous mouth had even completed the sentence, she knew it was true.

“More important than keeping a movie studio happy?”

“Yeah. Much more important than that. Have you ever heard of the band Sole Regret?”

“The metal band out of Austin nominated for best new artist Grammy last year?”

She knew Wes would have heard of them. “That’s them.”

“I don’t know them, but I do have business connections with their manager. Why?”

Wes knew everyone in the music business either directly or by some outside contact. He loved to drop names. “I need to be on the VIP list for their show in Beaumont, Texas tonight. Can you make it happen?”

“Can you fax me a rough draft of your masterpiece in the next hour so I can get this producer off my back?”

She sighed loudly. “Yes, I’ll fax you a rough draft.”

“I’ll make your groupie wishes a reality then.”

“I’m not a groupie,” she said testily.

“Oh. Are you writing music for them now?”

“No, I’m not writing their music. They’re kind of out of my genre, don’t you think?”

“Groupie,” he teased in a high-pitched voice.

“Watch it, Wes. I know where you live.”

“As soon as I have that rough draft in my hand, I’ll get you on the list.”

She grinned because she knew he’d deliver for her. “Slave driver,” she muttered.

“Virtuoso,” he countered.

“You really suck at insults, Bloodsucking Agent.”

“And you really suck at lying, Groupie.”

“Expect a fax in an hour,” she said, already scribbling down notes as fast as her hand could move.

“I’ll pull all the right strings in the meantime. Great work, doll. I think there’s an Academy Award in your future.”

Dawn paused to glare at the crumpled note on the floor. “Yeah, you aren’t the first to make that prediction today. I’m just glad the song is finally done.”

“And I’m glad you’re a groupie.” He laughed, and she could picture his overly white teeth gleaming in his overly tanned face. “We’ll talk soon.”

He hung up before she could reach into the phone and choke him. Groupie? How could she be a groupie if she’d never even heard Sole Regret’s music? She just needed closure or an opening—one or the other and preferably the latter. She wasn’t sure if Kellen would even talk to her, but she had to try. She had to find out why he’d left and if he had any interest in her beyond one amazing night. But first she had to get their song on paper and then she should probably consider putting on some clothes. While she was pretty sure Kellen would understand her need to be naked today, the public probably wouldn’t be so understanding.

Chapter Eleven

“Are you okay?” Sara said as she trotted down the steps, stopping on the bottom one so that it was impossible not to notice her belly. She patted Kellen’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Not Sara, he told himself. Lindsey. The girl Owen had been talking about on the phone before they’d been disconnected. She’s not Sara. Yeah, tell that to all the hairs on the back of his neck, which were standing on end.

He took a deep breath and clenched his shaking hands into fists.

“Where’s Owen?” Kellen asked, staring at her pregnant abdomen and doing mental math. Could it be… Was this what Owen had been trying to tell him about? No. Not possible.

“I think he’s talking to her again,” Lindsey-not-Sara said. He glanced up in time to catch her rolling her pretty blue eyes. “It was good seeing you.” She kissed his cheek and stepped off the final step. “If anyone is looking for me, I’m going to buy some food. I swear, how do you guys live like this?”

Still dumbfounded, he watched her walk over to Jordan, who was taking one of his hundreds of daily breaks, and with a few bats of her eyelashes and rubs of her belly, Jordan was on his feet and escorting her to the rental car he was responsible for returning. Completely transfixed, Kellen watched her get into the car. Lindsey really was a beauty. She definitely rivaled Sara, but was no comparison to Dawn.

Shit. He couldn’t let himself think about Dawn right now.

Kellen climbed the bus steps and spotted Owen sitting at the dining table and staring intently at his iPad. He looked up when Kellen slid into the booth across from him. He smiled.

“So you’re back. Have you given up on blue balls permanently or was it a temporary thing?”

“Had to be temporary.”

“Had to be?”

Kellen nodded curtly. He didn’t want Dawn to have to deal with his baggage. He had to forget her so she would forget him. “So Lindsey…”

“She’s around her somewhere.” Owen flicked his wrist at the expansive bus cabin.

“Yeah, I saw her. Is she…” Kellen’s eyebrows lifted.

“Pregnant?” Owen nodded and went slightly pale. “Yeah. She thinks it’s mine.”

“Yours? But you wore a condom when you did her; how could it be yours?”

“Well, it’s someone’s from that night, assuming she isn’t lying about not screwing some other dude after she finished with her Sole Regret band and crew orgy. When I left you alone to untie her, you didn’t do anything with her, did you?”

“No.” He hadn’t been inside a woman for five years. Until Dawn.

Shit. He couldn’t let himself think about Dawn right now.

“I didn’t think so. Just making sure.”

But Kellen had come on Lindsey’s belly, so he supposed it was possible that in all the groping and fondling and fucking, some mighty Kellen sperm had somehow gotten inside of her. Possible, but not likely. Still, he felt he was going to throw up. What if it was his? What would he do? He could never bring himself to hook up with some girl he didn’t feel a connection with just because she was the mother of his child, but he wouldn’t be like his asshole of a father. He wouldn’t leave the mother to fend for herself and ignore the existence of his own child until seeing his flesh and blood served his own purpose or agenda or whatever the fuck had made his father reach out to him after sixteen years of no contact. More than never meeting the fucktard, Kellen regretted not telling him what a worthless piece of shit he was when he’d had the chance. He didn’t want Lindsey’s unborn baby to ever have to feel that level of rejection.

“I figured you’d be smiling more,” Owen said.

Kellen looked at Owen as if he was doing the Chicken Dance. Again. Why would he be smiling? This situation had the potential to fuck up someone’s life in a pretty major way.

“About Lindsey being pregnant?” Kellen asked.

“About getting laid. Tell me about her. I can’t wait to meet her. I’m assuming she has blond hair and blue eyes.” Owen rolled his eyes at Kellen’s presumed predictability.

Kellen shook his head. “Redhead. That deep, dark red shade. Almost burgundy. And her eyes are hazel, with pretty flecks the color of spring leaves.”

Owen snorted and burst out laughing. “I forgot how corny you get.”

“Corny? What do you mean?”

“When you like a girl. You become the reincarnation of John Keats or some shit. So is she gorgeous? She must be to get your dick out of your pants.”

“Stunning. And you’ve seen her before,” Kellen said.

Owen went another shade paler. “I didn’t fuck her, did I?”

“No. Believe it or not, there are still women out there who haven’t taken a bareback ride on your lap.”

Owen winked. “Are you sure?”

Kellen nodded. “A few.”

“So if I didn’t fuck her, where did I see her?”

“At the Grammy’s last year.”

“Oh God, did I say something stupid to her?” Now Owen looked like he needed a tanning session. “I was so wasted that night.”

And he probably didn’t remember the elegant beauty who’d graced the stage to accept an award for best instrumental composition.

“She won a Grammy for one of her compositions. She plays piano. And she had no idea who we are, but she remembered us getting thrown out for your air-horn incident and heckling the rapper who got our award.”

Owen cringed. “Yeah, that was pretty obnoxious. I apparently thought I was attending a hockey game. Why’d you guys let me drink so much?”

Kellen chuckled. “We all drank that much. You’re the only one who couldn’t hold his liquor.”

Owen raised fingers one at a time as he said, “So gorgeous redhead. Grammy. Gives Kellen a boner.” Tapping his ring finger, he screwed up his forehead in concentration as he went over his clues.

“Her name is Dawn O’Reilly,” Kellen said. He didn’t want the guy to blow any overtaxed synapses.

Kellen had forgotten Owen had his iPad right in front of him. He immediately did a web search.

When Dawn’s picture came up on screen, Kellen’s heart froze in his chest until a rush of tangled emotions thawed it again. Standing before the awards’ ceremony backdrop, she looked radiant in a floor-length green gown, holding her Grammy clutched in both hands at her waist. Dawn. He could almost hear her voice whispering to him in the darkness. Making him feel that everything would be okay. Was he really going to push her away? Give her up? Go back to feeling so alone that he shut out everyone in his life except Owen?

Kellen closed his eyes and swallowed. Yes. He was going to do exactly that. He’d been weak for one night, but would never give in to that weakness again.

“Wow,” Owen said. “She’s hot. I’d tap that.”

Kellen’s eyes flipped open as a surge of panic flooded his chest. Owen could seduce anyone if he put his mind to it. Probably even Dawn. “What about Caitlyn? I thought you really liked her.”

“I do,” Owen said. “I wouldn’t tap that now, but a couple days ago, before I met Caitlyn, I would have totally tapped that. She’s stunning. And she plays piano. Musicians are hot.”

Kellen chuckled when Owen pointed at himself, pursed his lips, and offered a suggestive toss of his head.

Turning to his iPad again, Owen tapped a few screens and stirring piano music began to play from the device.

“She more than plays piano,” Kellen said. “It’s as if her soul comes pouring out of the instrument.”

Owen looked up at him and then snorted before bursting into laughter. “Oh God, man, you have got it bad for this chick.”

Kellen shook his head. “It was just a one-night hook-up.”

“Riiight. Keep telling yourself that until you believe it. So I’m ordering flowers for Caitlyn. You should get some for Dawn O’Reilly.”

He would not be sending Dawn flowers. She might think he was still interested, which he was, but he didn’t want her to think that.

“Flowers already?” Kellen asked. “Didn’t take you long to mess up.”

“It wasn’t my fault. When Lindsey showed up, Caitlyn flipped out and left. Not that I blame I her. I mean”—he made explosion sounds and opened his hands in bursts around his head—“mind blown.”

“And no one is claiming this kid besides you? You weren’t the only one who had sex with the girl that night.”

“A paternity test will straighten it all out in a few months, but she’s under enough stress, you know. It doesn’t hurt to be nice to her and treat her like a human being.”

Kellen wouldn’t expect anything less from his friend, but his kindness might just come back to bite him in the ass. If Lindsey got too attached to him, he might be stuck with her for life, even if he wasn’t the baby’s father. But maybe Owen wanted that. He liked people to depend on him. Which was good, because Kellen depended on him in a big way.

Owen pointed at images of flowers on his tablet. “So should I send her roses or a mixed bouquet? And chocolates too, right? Too soon for jewelry?”

“Owen, I’m not sure…”

“You’re right. She’s not the kind of woman who wears much jewelry. What do you think she would like? Perfume? Or… I could send her chicken panties. Yeah, that’s perfect. She’d get a kick out of that.”

Chicken panties? Kellen was afraid to ask why she’d think chicken panties were the perfect gift.

“Some women feel uncomfortable when you buy them gifts,” he said. “Especially early in a relationship.” And Kellen took Caitlyn for that type of woman.

“I just want to keep her thinking about me,” Owen said. “And let her know I’m thinking about her.”

“Did you call her?”

“Yeah, like five times. She keeps joking that she has to get something done besides talking to me all day.”

“So she knows you’re thinking about her.”

Owen smiled as he purchased whatever silly pair of panties had caught his eye. “Should I send them to her office?”

“Panties? Uh, no. I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

“Then I need her home address.” He started texting on his phone.

Kellen slapped himself in the forehead. So much for Owen following any advice. But he was smiling as he read Caitlyn’s reply. Owen looked so fucking happy that Kellen hated to put a damper on things, but he really needed to talk to him about the elephant that was always in the room these days.

“Owen,” Kellen said, “we need to talk about…” He took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks. Jeez, this was going to be even harder than he imagined. “…about all that kinky shit we did together.”

Owen read from his phone and typed Caitlyn’s address into his tablet. “Which kinky shit?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He looked totally disconnected from the conversation, and Kellen really needed him to be serious. “Do you mean me assisting you with tying women up so you could eat them out because you were afraid they might touch you?”

“No. I mean the other stuff.” He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “The touching each other stuff. That we did. To each other.”

“It was good for me. Was it good for you?” He laughed, and Kellen should have known Owen would try to make light of it. Getting him to confront anything serious was near impossible. So Kellen would just have to plow ahead and hope Owen took his words to heart.

“I want to apologize to you.”

“For what? Making me come really hard? I honestly didn’t mind.”

“I only touched you because I wanted someone to touch me back.”

“And there’s always a girl waiting to do just that.” Owen lifted his gaze from his cellphone before he’d finish sending his latest text. “So is this the conversation where you tell me you’re gay?”

“But I’m not gay.”

“And neither am I, so let’s forget about it and move on.”

“I’m not finished apologizing to you.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Owen’s voice rose, as if he were angry that Kellen was even bringing this up. “I don’t want your fucking apology. I just want to drop it, so drop it.”

“But I used you, Owen.”

“I use women all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. You’re my best friend, and I made you do something you wouldn’t normally do.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I know you’ve been suffering, and I’d rather give you the occasional hand job than watch you mope around like your life is over. Your life isn’t fucking over, Kellen. Sara’s life ended, not yours.”

His words were like a slap across the face.

“Do you think you need to tell me that?” Kellen yelled. “I live with that every fucking day of my life.”

“Well someone has to remind you; you’re apparently too stupid to see it on your own. And now you find some beautiful woman who might have a fighting chance of putting Sara in her grave where she belongs, and you can’t even find the balls to tell her you’re leaving.”

Kellen was too stunned to reply. Owen had never gone off on him like that. Ever. He’d always been so understanding and careful to spare Kellen’s feelings.

“Well…” Kellen sputtered. “Maybe I’ll see her again and maybe I won’t. It’s none of your business.”

“You won’t,” Owen said. “I know you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re still wearing Sara’s cuff.”

Kellen looked down at his wrist and yep, there it was, right where he’d promised himself he’d never put it again.

Owen dove across the table and grabbed Kellen’s left forearm in both hands. “Give me that fucking thing. If you won’t get rid of it, I will.”

Owen shoved his back against Kellen’s chest to keep him pinned in the booth while he jerked on the buckles holding the cuff in place. Kellen didn’t know why he was fighting Owen. He’d love for someone to remove Sara’s burden from his wrist, but by the time Jacob wandered onto the bus and pulled them apart, they were both bruised and disheveled. Owen had the cuff in his hand, and Kellen had a scrap of Owen’s T-shirt clutched in his fist.

“What the fuck?” Jacob said, holding Owen in a headlock. “Never thought I’d see the day when you two came to blows.”

“Give me my fucking cuff back, asshole,” Kellen said, yanking his wrist free from Jacob’s steely grip.

“You took his cuff?” Jacob asked.

“He doesn’t need it anymore,” Owen yelled.

“I agree,” Jacob said, “but don’t you think he should get rid of it willingly? It just symbolizes Sara; it’s not Sara. Getting rid of the cuff isn’t going to change how he feels.”

Kellen wasn’t so sure. He’d had a whole lot of fun and shared a whole lot of intimacy with Dawn when the cuff had been off his arm the night before. He didn’t know why he had such an emotional connection to a piece of jewelry. It was stupid. Like a little kid who wouldn’t give up his security blanket because he was convinced the boogie man lived under his bed.

“Then he won’t care if I burn it,” Owen said.

“Don’t!” Kellen’s voice cracked. Already his wrist felt exposed without the cuff in place. “I tried to throw it away last night, but it came back to me.”

“You did?” Owen asked, his stance shifting to one that was still guarded, but not threatening.

Kellen nodded. “I threw it in the ocean and it immediately washed back ashore.”

“Try throwing it into a volcano and see if it comes back to you then,” Owen said.

Kellen glared at him.

Jacob released Owen and pointed at the dining table. “Both of you sit down and talk this out. There’s no sense in letting misunderstandings and petty arguments come between friends when everything can be solved with a simple conversation.”

“Oh, hey, kettle, I’m pot and wow, you’re black,” Owen said.

Yeah, that was some pretty hypocritical advice coming from Jacob.

“What?” Jacob said.

“Uh, you’ve been holding a grudge against Adam for how many years now?” Owen said. “And for why?”

“But you and Kellen never fight. Adam and I have always had differences.”

Owen looked at Kellen and held the cuff in his direction. “Here,” he said. “Put it back on if it makes you feel better.”

Kellen’s hand felt like a leaden weight. His breathing became shallow. His lips trembled. He could feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes as his throat tightened until he thought he’d suffocate. For what? For a stupid strap of leather? It wasn’t Sara. Wearing it didn’t really keep her close. It wasn’t even a tribute to his memories of her. It just made him miserable.

“Get rid of it,” he said breathlessly.

Owen drew his clenched fist to his chest, holding the bracelet against him as if to comfort it. Kellen couldn’t take his eyes off the black strap. He was tracking it like a cat preparing to pounce.

“Are you sure?” Owen said. “You know I can’t stand you to be mad at me.”

“I’m sure. Do it quick before I change my mind.”

Owen brushed past him and hurried down the bus steps. Jacob caught Kellen’s arm when after a few very long seconds, he turned to follow Owen.

“Stick to your guns, man.”

Kellen nodded and sank onto a sofa. He stared down at his bare wrist. It looked as foreign as it felt. The skin was a shade paler than that of his hand and forearm. So even though the cuff was gone, the evidence was still there. He closed his eyes and massaged his arm with his free hand.

“You know what you need?” Jacob said, taking a seat beside him.

“A bottle of whiskey?”

“A wristwatch.” Jacob unfastened the analog watch he sometimes wore before a concert—he was paranoid about being late and had a hard time reading digital clocks correctly. He handed the watch to Kellen. Kellen appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t think it would help. He put it on anyway and while it wasn’t the same as wearing a cuff—the watch band was cold metal, a bit looser, and about half the thickness of his bracelet—it did make his wrist feel less exposed and he wasn’t compelled to massage it, as if he had cuff obsessive-compulsive disorder.

“Thanks.”

Jacob slapped him on the back and then rose from the sofa. “Now you just have to make sure I get to the show on time.”

Ah, so there was a catch.

Kellen reached for the clasp on the back of the watch’s silver band. “I don’t need—”

Jacob’s hand circled Kellen’s wrist. “Wear it until you get your head out of your ass.”

Kellen laughed. “So you’re not expecting this back anytime soon?”

“However long it takes.”

Owen returned to the bus a short while later. Kellen had a bit of blue rope in one hand and was rubbing it with his thumbs, remembering how it had looked against Dawn’s pale skin.

“So you traded a cuff for a watch and a piece of rope?”

Kellen didn’t respond. He didn’t want to talk to Owen at the moment. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he did crave the feel of Dawn’s arms around him and the feel of her soft breasts pressing into his chest. He missed her. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes sparked when she was perturbed. The sound of her voice. The way her fingers moved across her piano keys. Across his skin. Her. He missed her.

Shit. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Dawn right now.

He poked the piece of rope under the cuff on his right wrist.

Owen went back to buying Caitlyn gifts on the Internet and chuckling at various text messages that binged onto his phone every thirty seconds or so. Jacob had disappeared into the bathroom. Kellen wondered where Gabe and Adam were. The bus felt really empty. He had an uncharacteristic need to be surrounded by people and, as a loner, it felt strange to admit that to himself.

“What did you do with it?” Kellen asked in one of the pauses between Owen’s text message alerts.

“I buried it,” Owen said.

“Someplace nice?”

“Yeah.”

Kellen nodded, grateful that Owen hadn’t tossed Sara’s cuff in a dumpster or flushed it down the toilet. Kellen stood, deciding he’d go watch the crew set up the stage. Something to keep him busy so that his thoughts didn’t stray to his missing cuff or the continual turbulence in his soul. Or to the woman who had calmed that turmoil by creating the most beautiful melody he’d ever heard and held nothing back when she’d held him in her arms.

Kellen was halfway to the door when Lindsey climbed the stairs. Their band’s twenty-two-year-old lackey, Jordan, was right behind her, carrying several sacks of groceries and chattering about NASCAR. Kellen retreated toward the back of the bus so he didn’t have to brush against them on his way through the narrow corridor. Lindsey took the sacks from Jordan one at a time and set them on a counter in the kitchenette. She looked so much like Sara it was actually painful to look at her, but pain didn’t stop Kellen from staring. Would Sara have looked that beautiful pregnant? With his child growing in her womb? They’d talked about having kids before she’d gotten sick. At the time, he had been a bit hesitant about all the responsibility a child entailed, but if she’d had a baby, a bit of her would have been left behind. Part of her, mixed inseparably with part of him, would have lived on.

Kellen started when someone bumped into his back. Jacob grasped Kellen’s shoulders from behind and squeezed. “There’s just something sexy about a pregnant woman,” he said. “When Tina was pregnant with Julie, I couldn’t keep my hands off her.”

Uh… Was Jacob lusting after Lindsey? Weird. Especially since the baby was some other man’s. Maybe. At least Jacob liked kids. What if the kid was Adam’s? Adam detested kids. And what would Gabe do if it turned out to be his? A dude could go crazy wondering about such things. It was no wonder that Lindsey had insisted it was Owen’s. Not knowing whose child you were carrying had to be a serious mind-fuck. And what would it be like to give birth to a child created out of lust, not love?