I've never wanted to be a fly on the wall until tonight while watching Liam talk to Katelyn. I wanted to know what he was saying. I tried not to lean forward and listen, but I caught myself doing just that a few times. When Josie sat down and started talking about inconsequential things, I wanted to kindly ask her to be quiet so I could maybe hear what Liam was saying.
But I didn’t.
The bus is quiet. I hate quiet. I need noise to feel at ease. Everyone’s gone to bed except for me and JD, although being asleep in the chair is close enough. I pull out my phone and push the button for GPS. We are a still a few hours away from our hotel, but there’s not enough time for it to matter if I sleep now or later. The plan is to take an early morning nap at the hotel before we hit the theme parks in the afternoon.
I’m excited about going to Disney, mostly because I’m looking for any excuse I can get to be close to Katelyn. I know she’s struggling with Peyton. I’ve racked my brain trying to think of ways I can help, but short of finding a spell to raise the dead, I’m no use. Not that I’d actually do that. I thought that Quinn might be the answer, but he’s never known his mom, so it’s hard to say he’s been there.
A door shuts quietly behind me. I turn and see Katelyn coming down the aisle. She’s dressed in an oversize t-shirt and for my sake I hope she has shorts on underneath, because all I can see are her legs and they are very bare. I have to bite the inside of my cheek in order to keep my mouth closed.
I wish I knew how to talk to her in a way to get her to open up. Since moving to Beaumont, I haven’t given another woman a second glance. With Katelyn, I’m not only giving her a second one, but a third, fourth and fifth whenever she’s in the room. I could live a day without water if I was granted the permission to just stare at her.
I can’t look up and make eye contact with her, even though it’s probably the right thing to do. My eyes follow the steps she takes as she passes me. I wonder if she’s sleep walking or if I’m even awake. Maybe I’m dreaming and she’s not really here - standing in my general vicinity - half naked.
I swallow hard when she sits down and tucks her legs underneath her. Does she not see me sitting here? Of course she doesn’t, I’m invisible. I need to find a way for her to see me, the real me on the inside and not the graffiti’d man she sees when she looks at me. I see the way she looks at my arms. I have no doubt that the wheels are turning in her head wondering why someone would cover their arms with ink. All she has to do is ask and I’ll tell her. I’m an open book once you crack my cover.
I clear my throat, but that doesn’t get her attention. What the hell? “Hi,” I say loud enough to cause JD to adjust in the chair. I wish he’d wake up and leave now that she’s here. I want to bask in her presence without an audience.
“Hi.” Her reply is soft, quiet. Is she afraid to wake up the log-sawing machine?
I look over at JD and shake my head. “Sorry. He’s not usually like this.”
“It’s okay.”
At least she’s answering me. It means that she’s actually awake, although I’m not sure I am. I look back at her and see that she’s rubbing her arms. She’s cold. I get up and go to the closet and pull out a blanket. Sitting down, I unfold it and lay it on top of her.
“Thank you.”
I nod. “Why are you up?”
She looks up at me. Her eyes are sharp. “Do you want me to leave?”
I swallow hard, catching myself from squeaking out an answer. “No, not at all. It’s just that it’s late, or early depending on how you look at things. I thought I was the only one still functioning.”
“I couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
This is the most she’s spoken to me since I’ve met her. “I have a hard time unwinding after a show, especially when I know we’re stopping soon.”
Katelyn looks at me but doesn’t say anything. No acknowledgment or anything. The awkward silence follows. It shouldn’t because I have so many things I want to ask her. Actually that’s not true. I know what her favorite color is, her favorite food and how she takes her coffee. I’ve paid attention these past few months, learning how she functions and what makes her tick.
I don’t know what to do or say. This is where I fail. This is where I’ve had my status as a drummer work to my benefit. Most women I’ve gone home with don’t care about what’s on my mind or how I like my coffee. They aren’t looking for a meaningful conversation. They just want one thing.
I don’t want that with Katelyn. I don’t want her to be someone that I just bring home when the urge is there, because with her even breathing, the urge is there. I want to know her, inside and out. I want to learn how to fall in love with her as my partner.
I can’t keep staring at her or off in to space. I don’t know how to proceed. I don’t want to push her into talking to me. I pick up my book and flip to the page where I left off. The words blur in my mind. I’m not going to make heads or tails of these pages as long as she’s sitting one cushion away from me.
Katelyn adjusts and lets out a long sigh. I close the book, setting it back down on the floor.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Raise Quinn by yourself.”
I turn and face her, but keep my eyes focused on the outside. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t raising him by himself. I know there are things that only a mom can do, but I try to be both. I’ve read a lot of books on how to be an effective parent and provide him with the right tools, but it’s hard. I’m the only parent he knows. Our situations are different. He didn’t lose his mom the way you and the girls lost Mason.”
“Where’s his mom?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know? Doesn’t she call?”
I shake my head. My finger starts playing with my lip as I process her question. “His mom… she showed up one day and just left him on my living room floor. He was three days old.”
“Wow. Why didn’t you marry her before all of this happened?”
It’s not going to matter how I answer this question. She’s going to see me as the quintessential rocker who sleeps around. I couldn’t be farther from that image. I shake my head and let out a small growl in frustration. I cover my face with my hands, rubbing my hat back and forth.
“Quinn is a product of a one night stand –”
“So –“ she starts to interrupt me, but I hold up my hand asking her to stop. I need to have this all out so there’s no misunderstanding.
“His mom drugged me. After a show, we went to the bar and I’ve never been much of a drinker, but that night I got hammered. I remember waking up with her, but I don’t remember anything else. Few months later, she knocks on my door with a carseat carrier and kept calling him it. She clearly didn’t want him and honestly, neither did I.”
“What did you do?”
“Called my mom and told her I was in trouble.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Mom?” My voice breaks as I call out for her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m in trouble.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.” She hangs up, but I don’t move. My phone is glued to my ear listening to the silence on the other end. The baby… it whimpers. I look at the contraption it’s in and mentally tick off the seconds it takes my mom to get to my place. I’m afraid it’s going to start crying. I don’t like crying. I’ll have to leave the room if it does.
My front door swings open, banging against the table that my mom placed there. She said it was decorative and added character, but apparently now it’s a doorstopper.
“Harrison, what’s wrong?”
I love my mom. Along with my sister, she’s my best friend and my confidant. She’s standing in front of me, her eyes full of worry. I point and she looks behind her before looking back at me. Her eyes squint and I see the confusion written all over her face.
“Why are earth would you ever offer to babysit?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t.”
“Is there a baby in that carseat?”
I nod. “The mom just left it here.”
“It?”
“She didn’t say —”
“Oh, Harrison,” my mom gasps as she removes the blanket that has been covering the baby. She bends down and does something with her hands and before I know it, she’s holding the baby against her shoulder. She starts rocking back and forth, patting the baby’s back.
“What’s his name?”
His? I shrug. “Don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
I stand and start pacing. “The mom… his mom just dropped him off. She left him here.”
“When will she be back?”
I shake my head pulling at the ring in my bottom lip. I look at my mom. My brows furrow. “She said…” I point to the baby. “Is mine.”
“Yours?”
I nod, biting my cheek.
“You have a son.”
“What did your mom do?”
I lean back and get comfortable. If Katelyn wants to know about my past, I’m going to tell her. I’ll say anything just to keep her talking. She mimics my position. The blanket slips, showing me more leg than she probably intends. Flashes of my hand caressing her leg play in my mind. My fingers itch to touch her. To feel her against my skin would be heaven. My hand clutches the back of the couch to keep myself seated. I don’t trust myself not to lunge across the open space and press my lips to hers.
“Harrison?” I snap out of my fantasy when she says my name, wishing it was more reality than anything. I just need a sign from her, anything to show me that she might be at least interested in getting to know the real me.
“Yeah?”
“What did your mom do?”
“She moved in and taught me how to care for a baby. She lived with us for about a year until I hired a full-time nanny.”
“Where’s Quinn’s nanny now?”
“I let her go when we moved to Beaumont.”
“Oh,” she says. She rests her head on the backside of the couch. She looks tired. I wish I could offer her a place to sleep… on my chest. I could hold her in my arms. Rub her back until she falls asleep. I’d never let go. I’d never let her nightmares haunt her. I can make things better for her. When her eyes close, that’s my cue. We’re done talking. I pick up my book and start reading again. I need something to keep my hands occupied or I might end up doing something I regret.
I see her shiver out of the corner of my eye. I grab another blanket and drape it over her. I can’t resist. I sit down next to her. Her legs are bent just enough to give me space. My fingers brush her hair away from her face, just like I did earlier. I’m not imagining it when she leans into my hand. I stay there and relish in how her cheek feels against my palm.
I drop my hand, feeling like a creeper. She doesn’t like me the way I like her. I shouldn’t be touching her while she sleeps. She’d hate me if she knew. With my elbows pushing into my thighs, I rest my head in my hands. I’m so screwed. There’s no way someone like Katelyn will give me the time of day. I need to find a way to get over her, and fast, before the pain is too much to take when she finally decides to start dating again.
I look down when I feel something brush against my thigh. It’s her hand. I look at her and deduce that she’s dreaming. She has to be. She’d never willingly touched me like this. I pick up her hand and gently lay it across her waist. My hand lingers longer than necessary, but I can’t help it. Her fingers link with mine. I know I stop breathing while I wait for her to wake and freak out. There’s no way I’m pulling my hand away, even though I know it’s wrong. She has to be dreaming about her husband, not me.
I slide my hand out from under hers, thankful that she doesn’t wake. I need to get away from her and fast. As much as I’d love to take advantage of this sleeping beauty, it’s not enough that I want to ruin any chance I have with her, if ever.