* * *

* * *

(1)

*NOW*

Brantley hadn’t intended on hitting Harry square in the jaw, but that’s just what happened when you ran your mouth at a hot headed drummer.

As Harry stumbled back, his hands reached out, trying to grab something to hold onto. He managed to, however, clear off his entire desk as he fell to the floor, landing on his ass. That’s when Brantley lunged forward, really unsure what he was going to do next. Maybe beat Harry until he stopped talking. Maybe pick him up and apologize.

Brantley grabbed Harry by the shirt and pulled at him.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Brantley growled. “Understand me?”

“Christ, Brantley,” Harry said. He rubbed his jaw. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t ever ask me about my kid like that again.”

“All I asked was if you were going to see him.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” Brantley said. “Got it?”

Harry licked his lips. His lip then curled like a pissed off animal. “You know what? It is my business. Willow Son is geared up for another leg of a tour. You’re due in the goddamn studio to finish some new songs. And the one thing you asked me to do I had been doing. For you. Keeping this a secret from the rest of the guys. There was one catch, Brantley. What was it?”

Realizing his error, Brantley stepped back. He offered his hand and helped Harry to his feet. He then touched his own jaw, nodding.

“Come on,” he said. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me, Harry. Make it fair.”

“Serious, B, what is wrong with you?”

Brantley kept tapping his jaw. “I got worked up. Hit me. Right now.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll make you. Let’s talk about your family, Harry. All the skeletons in your closet. Huh? How’d that work out for you? You ever get on the road with us and chase some tail? I bet you have. Probably dropped our name to get some groupie to drop her panties.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. He cocked a fist back and threw it forward.

Brantley took the punch with a sense of pride.

Then Harry ruined the moment as he let out a squealing yell and grabbed his hand. He jumped back and cradled his hand, yelping.

The punch had been better than Brantley expected. He licked the inside of his cheek and tasted blood.

“Not bad,” Brantley said. “Not bad at all, Harry.”

“So what’s the goddamn plan here?” Harry asked through gritted teeth.

“You’ve done all I asked,” Brantley said. “Thanks for that. But this is a family problem now. My family.”

“Your secret family,” Harry said. “You haven’t even told the band yet. You have a son that’s in the hospital right now.”

Brantley moved at Harry again. “I fucking know that.”

“Then do something!”

Brantley grabbed Harry’s shoulder and put him against the wall. He brought a fist back, ready to really get Harry to shut the hell up.

The door blasted open and in came, Colby, Jett, Ryker, and Van.

“Whoa!” Colby yelled.

“Holy shit,” Jett said as he ran forward.

“What the hell…” Ryker said.

Van assisted Jett and they pulled Brantley away before he could hit Willow Son’s band manager again.

“Brantley, what the hell is going on here?” Van asked.

“Wait,” Jett said. “Are you bleeding?”

“Harry hit me,” Brantley said.

“He hit me first,” Harry said.

“What is this?” Ryker asked. “A school fight?”

“No,” Brantley said. “We’re fine. We’re good.”

Brantley shook the guys away and walked away.

“You good?” Jett asked Harry.

Harry fixed his tie. “Yeah. Great.”

“What’s going on?” Colby asked.

Brantley saw the guys look at Harry, then at him. Harry still kept his mouth shut. He was fiercely loyal, but paid a ton of money for that loyalty. Brantley knew he was in the wrong in the situation though. Everything falling apart around him was his fault.

Because of one night and one agreement made after that.

“Shit,” Brantley said. He sat down in a chair and ran his hands through his hair. He looked at the band, his brothers, the five of them that made up the biggest rock band in the world.

“I’m going to go grab a coffee,” Harry said. “Then call Portis and see what’s happening this week and next. We have to keep our schedules fluid.”

“Fluid?” Colby asked.

“That’s what I said,” Harry said. “That’s all I’m going to say.” Harry took a few more steps and then stopped and looked at Brantley. “I don’t want an apology for this shit, B. I want you to talk to them. Right now.”

Brantley made fists and clenched his teeth together.

He knew it would end up like this.

Of course it would end up like this.

What kind of man was he to pay off the woman who had his son?

(2)

*THEN*

She wore a leather jacket and a tight, white shirt under it. She danced by jumping up and down, bouncing her head side to side, jamming to the music.

From the second Brantley saw her, she became more intoxicating than the beer and whiskey he’d been drinking all night.

The crowd was big, maybe one of the biggest for the band, but it was manageable. Brantley took advantage of nights like these because he knew it was only a matter of time before things were going to get crazy for the band. Soon they’d be ushered around backstage, telling security guards what girls from the show to invite backstage.

Some of that started to happen already.

When Brantley stood up and walked forward, carrying his beer, a few people ran up to him, grabbed for his shirt. They were fans, wanting a picture and an autograph. Brantley stopped, smiled, signed a ticket and the top of a left breast, and then continued his voyage through the bustling crowd. It was in between bands, the crew up on stage hurrying to get one band’s shit off and set up another’s. Music blasted through the house system and that’s the music she was dancing to. Off in her own corner, arms up, acting like there wasn’t a single person in the club.

Chances were she was drunk or high, but that didn’t bother Brantley. This was about having fun. Another city, another woman, another wild night. That’s what the dream was about. Women, music, and money. They were all actually making a decent living already. A few record companies were sniffing around and their current deal was up in a few months. That’s when the seven figures would roll in easily.

Brantley made it halfway through the crowd when someone bumped into him. He dropped his beer on the floor and it disappeared in a sea of feet.

“Ah, fuck, sorry,” a guy said. He turned and grabbed Brantley’s shoulder. “Hey, man! You’re that guy! The drummer! Holy shit. Willow Son rocks.”

The guy shook Brantley and Brantley shook him away. He grabbed the guy’s arm. “Easy, man. Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Whoa. Calmness, brother.”

Brantley looked forward and started to move.

But by then the woman was gone.

Shit.

The guy grabbed his shoulder again and squeezed.

“Hey,” Brantley yelled. He threw an elbow into the guy’s ribs and knocked him back. “I said not to touch me, man.”

“I pay your salary,” the man yelled. “I bought a fucking ticket to bring my girl here.”

“That’s fine. But don’t touch me.”

Now everyone was looking. This was all Brantley needed. To get in the middle of the crowd and start a fight. The guys were pissed enough when he lingered away from backstage, let alone be in the mix of the fans there to see Willow Son.

“My girl just wants to see you,” he said. “Got it?”

“Where is she?” Brantley asked. “I’ll be over there.”

“Hey! Emma!” the guy yelled.

Brantley moved through the crowd, nodding to fans, stopping for a couple autographs, joking with a few fans about the guy that grabbed him.

Then he felt someone tug on his shirt.

He looked back, ready to snap.

He opened his mouth and lost his breath and voice for a split second.

There she was.

Standing right behind him.

Brown curly hair that was a mess but in a sexy way. Her eyes matched her hair and she had a big smile on her face. She touched his wrist and then grabbed his hand. Brantley felt his hand squeeze right back.

“Hey,” he said.

“This is crazy,” she said. “You’re…”

“Come here,” he said.

Brantley pulled the woman behind him.

They went to the opposite side of the club and moved behind one of the gates. That’s where they had a little privacy and a little more room. And it was a little bit quieter so they could talk.

Brantley realized he hadn’t let her hand go.

That’s okay. She’s not going anywhere unless it’s with me.

“I’m Brantley,” he said.

“Duh,” she said. “You drum for Willow Son. I love you guys. I’ve never seen you live before.”

“Well then. You could stand right here the entire night. Check out the show from the side.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Brantley said. He touched her chin, feeling the smoothness of her skin. “Someone as pretty as you doesn’t need to be in the crowd. Hey, I saw you jumping around, dancing. You kind of stole my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked with a flirty grin.

Goddamn…

“Yeah. But don’t get too excited, it doesn’t take much.”

“You liked that I was jumping up and down,” she said.

“Yeah, I did. But you’re wearing a leather jacket. So I really didn’t get the full effect.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Here…”

She stripped herself of her leather jacket.

Brantley felt himself tighten in all the right spots. Inside, he was sighing, wishing the goddamn band didn’t have to go on stage tonight. Then again, there was still about forty minutes to kill.

The white shirt hugged her body perfectly. There was a sliver of skin showing, enough to have Brantley reaching for her, wanting to touch her. Of course, he’d be a gentleman about it and at least find out what her name was before kissing her. But after that, there was no stopping it.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s your name, sexy moves?”

She giggled. “Sexy moves? Can I please tell all my friends that the hot drummer from Willow Son gave me a nickname?”

“Sure. As long as I can tell all my friends that the beautiful woman dancing in front the speakers thinks I’m hot.”

Brantley was close now. His hands touched her sides. She put her hands to his. They looked at each other. He felt something spark inside himself. That was okay. There was nothing wrong with deeper feelings that went beyond what was going to happen after the show. Not that those feelings mattered. Brantley fell in love each and every night. That was the wonder of his life.

He inched closer, moving in for a kiss before he could calm himself.

“Your name,” he whispered. “Give it up.”

“Make me,” she whispered back.

“You’re going to regret messing with me, sexy moves.”

“That’s my name then,” she said. “Now you know it.”

“I want the real name.”

“Again… make me.”

Brantley was an inch away from sexy moves’ thin, sweet looking lips.

Then he heard a voice bellow, “EMMA!”

Her head turned and she pulled away from him.

“Over here!” she yelled and waved.

Brantley looked and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the same asshole that had been grabbing at his shoulder. Sexy moves was the asshole’s girlfriend.

“Whoa, wait a second,” Brantley said. He reached for Emma. “That guy…”

She looked back at him and grinned.

“Did you get your autograph?” the guy asked.

“I’m good here,” Emma said. She then pulled at the gate, opening it to get through, back into the crowd.

Brantley grabbed the gate and watched as she walked away. The asshole guy put his arm around her shoulder. Emma looked back and smiled big. She then puckered her lips.

Brantley shook his head.

He then mouthed to her, Come right here after the show.

***

Brantley stood up from the drum kit and was out of breath. The crowd had been freaking insane. They were so into the music, singing every word of every song right back to the band. As he ran his hand through his sweaty hair, Brantley looked out to the crowd with one intention in mind.

Finding Emma.

It bothered him that she was with someone else. They had come so close to kissing… and she had a boyfriend? What the hell was that about? Brantley had no shame if a woman wanted to fool around, but to be that bold… it was sexy.

Emma was locked in the back of his mind.

Brantley scanned the crowd and couldn't find her. He sat back down as Ryker’s guitar let out a long feedback squeal. He looked at Brantley and nodded. Brantley hit air with one of the drumsticks as a four count to go into the final song.

It was the band’s big radio hit right now.

The second Ryker played the first part of the riff, the place erupted.

Colby stood at the edge of the stage, holding the mic out, cupping his ear. One thing Brantley knew for sure was that Willow Son wouldn’t be playing little clubs for long. Colby was too good as a singer and he had a knack for working the crowd that made the experience special for everyone there.

Brantley played his heart out on the final chorus, ending the show with a little bit of a drum solo. The next time he stood up, the show was officially over. He tossed his sticks out to the crowd, not caring who ended up with them. He walked to the front of the stage and stood there with the band. They all waved, the crowd cheered, and another show had come to an end.

Backstage, they dried their sweat and went right back to drinking.

Brantley snuck away and went to the side of the stage. The crew was busting their ass, collecting all of Willow Son’s equipment so they could load it up in the van and get it to the next show. Harry was at the bar with the club owner, talking business. Their merch manager was shutting down the table, leafing through a big pile of cash.

Everything was in full motion.

Brantley kept his eye on the gate where he had been with Emma.

There was no damn sight of her.

That didn’t surprise him though. She had her little flirty moment with a rockstar and now she was gone home with her boyfriend. At best, Brantley would slip into her mind when they were in bed later.

Brantley smiled.

“Cheers,” he whispered and took a drink of beer.

“Got one for me?”

Brantley spun around and there she was again.

“Emma,” he said.

“Brantley.”

“Sexy moves,” Brantley said.

Emma closed in on him. She clutched to his sweaty t-shirt and slid her other hand to the back of his neck. “I think we were about here before…”

“No,” Brantley said.

“Uh… listen… about him…”

Brantley put his lips an inch from Emma’s. “This is where we left off. And this is where we’re going.”

Brantley pressed his lips to Emma’s.

She tasted as he had hoped.

Beautiful yet dangerous.

***

Brantley couldn’t get into the hotel room fast enough. Emma had her hands up his shirt and was demanding it off his body. He let the door shut behind him and tossed his shirt to the floor. He turned and her nails dug into his skin and went to his neck. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around him.

That put her eye level with him.

“You know, this is the least amount of work I’ve have to put in to get a woman in bed,” he said.

“One,” Emma said as she kissed him. “We’re not in bed yet. And two” - she kissed him again - “I never ever do this.”

They kissed hard, their tongues touching, wrestling, Brantley sliding his hands under her shirt. That fucking white shirt stood no chance against him now.

Emma broke the kiss. “That guy… was an asshole…”

They kissed again.

“I know,” Brantley said.

“It was a really bad first date. The last date too.”

“Good to know.”

“Just so you know I’m not cheating.”

“I wouldn’t care either way.”

“You’re disgusting,” Emma said. Then she kissed him. “Take me to the bedroom.”

“You’re wild, sexy moves. I haven’t showered yet since the show.”

“I don’t care,” Emma said. “I’m not here to smell you.”

Brantley laughed. He started to walk, carrying her. “That’s not what I meant. You and me, sexy moves, are going to start in the shower and end in bed.”

“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve heard all night.”

“I don’t do romance.”

“Neither do I.”

“So then we’re perfect for each other.” Brantley kicked open the bathroom door. He put Emma down. “You better be naked by the time the water gets hot.”

Brantley wasn’t joking when he said it yet he was surprised when he turned to face Emma and she stood there, beautifully naked. The curve of her hips in flesh was intoxicating. The smoothness of her belly, the way her breasts were so perfectly full with erect, rose pink nipples. And she stood there with a sense of confidence that turned Brantley on even more. He stepped toward her, gently, slowly, wanting to savor the moment.

Why? Just put her in the shower, man.

His hands touched her sides and then cupped her breasts. Emma groaned and put her head back, exposing her neck. Brantley kissed her neck and smelled her. She smelled like the show. Perfume, sweat, beer. He kissed to her mouth and then stared at her.

Their foreheads touched and Emma began to open his jeans.

When she touched him, Brantley gritted his teeth.

Emma had a cute little smile but her eyes were full of vixen lust.

Something occurred to Brantley in that crazy moment… he didn’t want the night to end.

***

They were in bed, finishing just as Brantley had said they would. Emma was on her right side and Brantley on his back, staring at the ceiling. He never did the whole best sex ever ordeal because he never knew what was coming the next night, but one thing was for sure - Emma knew how to use her body. So much so that Brantley couldn’t wait to go at it again.

He rolled to his shoulder and touched her shoulder. His hand spread across her and he pulled at her.

“Hey. You okay, sexy moves?”

“Fine,” Emma said. She took Brantley’s hand and placed it on her breast.

Their bodies then touched and Brantley realized he was breaking one of his unsaid rules. No cuddling. No touching unless it was going to lead to more sex. And if she wanted any of that shit, she had to go.

“I hope your night got a little better,” Brantley whispered.

Emma rocked her hips, teasing him. “Best night ever.”

He kissed her shoulder. “I agree.” Then he kissed her neck.

The tip of his tongue flicking at her skin. She reached up and moved her hair out of the way.

“I like it there,” she whispered.

Oh, fuck…

Brantley knew this was a dangerous game to play right now. He couldn't stop kissing her though. And when he kissed her cheek, Emma turned her head and looked at him. Their eyes met again and it was deeper than ever.

“It was a really shitty night,” Emma admitted. “Really shitty. It wasn't just about seeing your band, Brantley. I just needed an escape.”

Brantley pulled his arms tighter around her. “You have it right here. I’ll be your escape.”

“Right now,” Emma said.

For a second she looked ready to cry.

It caught Brantley off guard.

Then they started to kiss. Fast. Hard. Wildly.

They had almost slipped in the shower and started without any protection.

This time, when Emma slid her hand down and touched him, he caught himself losing his mind. A second later, he was on his knees, touching her inner thigh. She groaned, wanting him. Brantley touched her body and entered her body. All he could think about was her pleasure and the feel of her.

Nothing else mattered.

They were each other’s escapes and nothing else.

There would be no strings attached.

(3)

*NOW*

“What are you trying to tell us?” Colby asked. He leaned against Harry’s desk.

“I mean, it’s a great story,” Ryker said. “You stole some dude’s girl for the night. Like we haven’t done that ourselves?”

“It’s more than that,” Brantley said. He stood up.

“Then give it to us,” Jett said.

Van put a hand to Brantley’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”

Brantley shook Van away and made a fist. “I’m in the mood to fight. Don’t mess with me.”

“Then quit fucking around,” Van said. “What the hell is going on with this band right now? We’re supposed to have secrets from each other?”

“There’s only one of us that has a secret,” Ryker said.

Brantley nodded. “Fair enough. I never said anything because it was painful to do. There was an agreement made between me and her and I don’t think many people would understand it. And truthfully, it hurt me for what I did. To her. To us. Then time sped up and…”

Standing at the window, Brantley looked out across the city.

She was out there. She was probably at a hospital. Probably offering up every piece of her life in exchange for anything that resembled realness. A chance to give her son a healthy life.

Her son.

“Brother,” Colby said. “You have to just spit it out.”

Brantley looked over his shoulder. Spit it out. He nodded. “Okay. Here is it, guys. I have a son… and he’s sick.”

(4)

Emma didn’t want to be at the bar. She didn’t want to sit at the end of the bar, picking a few fries, smelling the freshly cooked burger, her mouth watering, desperate to eat it. Everything made her feel guilty. The worst feeling in the world was not being able to help your sick child. There was nothing she could do for Seth though. A rare immune disorder left him constantly battling with illnesses. Something as simple as a head cold for normal kids sometimes put Seth in the hospital for days, fighting for his life.

The last scare had been one of the worst.

A bout of pneumonia had Emma starting to accept that her Seth might not see grade school. The doctors had told Emma they could keep treating him as needed. A couple doctors told Emma that if it got worse they wanted to do a blood transfusion. Of course, in the spirit of Seth, he had a rare blood type.

And that’s what put everything into motion.

“Are you going to eat or stare at it?”

Emma looked at her father, Mike. He had age spread across his face but had a set of brown, lively eyes. Here was a man who lost his wife when his daughter was just ten years old. Never did it stop him, crush him, or make him give up on pushing forward. He was Emma’s inspiration. The little bar had no name but Mike ran it so that it provided himself a life, Emma a life, and was a place to hide when needed.

“Docs said there’s nothing you could do right now,” he said. “The little man is resting up and waiting to come home.”

Emma nodded. “And his mother is at the bar.”

Mike laughed. “You’re kidding me with that bullshit, Emma. You’re here to eat something your old man cooked for you. You’re not partying it up, drinking and sleeping around.”

Nope. Those days are long gone now.

“I know. I just feel guilty.”

“That’s okay to feel guilty. Don’t let yourself lose to it though.”

Emma nodded.

There was more than just Seth weighing on her.

It was about Ricky (dubbed ‘the asshole’ years ago) and the way he reacted to finally understanding that Seth wasn’t his son. Not that he really took care of them anyway. Ricky was more or less convenient. He fixed the car, took care of a leaky faucet, and on more than one occasion gave Emma the physical comfort she needed, even if he wasn't what she wanted.

The second the notion of a blood transfusion came into the picture, Emma went into a panic. Her blood wasn’t compatible, meaning if they tried, the cells would be attacked, rendering it useless. Ricky demanded he step in and prove that he was Seth’s father once and for all. No matter how much Emma tried to tell Ricky he wasn’t, he fought against her. When his blood type didn’t match, all hell broke loose.

That was the least of Emma’s worries though.

She knew there was one person to try and call.

If it was going to save Seth’s life, then it was worth making that call.

To track down Seth’s rockstar of a father…

***

*THEN*

Emma stared at the pregnancy test.

Hmmm…

Logic took her back to one night but that night seemed way too impossible to be the result of this. Then again… they had gone at it without protection. That second time, when they just lost their control. When Brantley thrust into her, she had reached for her stomach, wanting to push him away and tell him to go get something. But it felt good. Really good. She had been kind of taking birth control. It was more or less a when I remember kind of thing.

Standing up, Emma realized she had been sitting on the toilet the entire time, waiting. She fixed herself and checked the pregnancy test again, in case the answer changed.

It didn’t change.

It wasn’t going to change.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

I’m going to be a single mom to a rockstar’s baby.

Emma was the forced to survey her life in that moment. A journalist at a local paper, writing about music and art, getting paid almost nothing, living in a small apartment with an annoying roommate. The apartment was no place for a baby. Hell, Emma knew her life wasn’t a place for a baby.

She touched her stomach and felt the weight collapse upon her. She leaned forward, grabbing the edge of the sink. Her hands shook and her eyes filled with tears. She looked up, something she always did, remembering her father explaining to her that her mother was above them.

All the times he’s said that to me, I’ve looked up and have never seen her there. Just once, could I see her? What about right now? Why can’t I see her?

The entire night played back in her mind.

Meeting Brantley instantly set something loose inside her. She wanted him. She craved him. It was an instant obsession and wasn’t just about the rockstar thing. Something about Brantley stuck. Emma never got the chance to explore that. Funny as it was, Brantley didn’t kick her out of the hotel room, she left on her own that night. After they had fallen asleep Emma woke herself up and gave Brantley a kiss on the cheek. She then snuck out of the bedroom, wrote her cell number down on a piece of paper, and never expected to hear from Brantley again.

Now things were very different.

Emma needed to see Brantley.

Right now.

She would need to find him, meet him, and then tell him he was the father of her unborn baby.

The notion caught up to her and she leaned forward, getting sick right into the sink.

Her roommate, Steph, came barging in a second later.

“Emma! Don’t throw up on my toothbrush!”

Emma looked at Steph. “Really?”

“I told you not to drink vodka. This is what happens.”

Emma shook her head. She hadn’t been drinking vodka. She hadn’t had a drink in over two weeks because two weeks was when she realized she was very late for her period. She told herself to just wait it out. It would come. It had to come.

It never came.

And now there were two lines on a pregnancy test.

Emma went to her room and grabbed her laptop. She searched for Willow Son and found out where they were playing next. They had three shows in and around Seattle. Then they were coming back down the coast. That put it at about two weeks until she could attempt to get to Brantley.

That was enough time to take ten more pregnancy tests, go see a doctor, get an ultrasound, and figure out a way to approach Brantley without sounding like some crazy groupie looking for a winning lottery ticket. Rumor had it that the band had extended their record contract with a heavy advance against their upcoming album. So, yeah, that meant Emma would be showing up at the perfect time to look as though she wanted to dig into his pockets.

Emma started to search for pregnancy pictures, knowing the gist of what was going to happen to her. However, too many of the pictures that popped up showed a man standing behind the woman, touching her very swollen belly, both of them smiling.

That won’t be me.

***

“Are you pouring that whiskey for you or me?”

“Emma,” her father snapped. “You can’t drink. Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m just trying to ease the mood.”

“This will help,” her father said. He took a sip and smacked his lips together.

“Is that because of me?”

“Emma, everything is because of you. You’ve given me the craziest ride of my life, darling. But I love you. You’re my daughter. You’ll understand that love soon enough.”

Emma felt her heart twist. Her lips started to quiver. “I just wish…”

Her father reached across the bar and wiped a tear off her cheek. “I wish it everyday, too. But your mother is watching from a different place. Now, the reason I’m drinking this whiskey is because of what’s going to happen next.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t have much to offer,” he said. “But you’re my daughter and I’ll give you everything I have. You’re going to move back into the house with me. I could use the company anyway. It gets lonely.”

“I’m not doing that,” Emma said. “You should be with someone…”

“Emma, you are not going to argue this. You need a place to stay. The baby needs a home. I’m going to provide that.”

“Please don’t hate me for this.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I know who the father is,” she said, as though it were some accomplishment. Honestly, it made Emma feel whorish and she felt like she let herself down. “I’m going to talk to him. But I don’t… Dad, he’s a musician. A rockstar. He’s wild…”

“Then you do what you need to do,” he said. “You talk to him but don’t expect the world in return. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You’ve seen the doctor, right?”

Emma reached into her bag and took out the ultrasound picture. She put it on the bar and slid it across for her father to take. He lifted it and his eyes went wide. His eyes became glossy and a smile grew across his face.

Everything was a complete disaster but the hope on her father’s face was going to save it all.

“This is beautiful,” her father said. “So beautiful. Emma, you do what you need to do in all this. I’m going to support you. You already have an idea of what will happen with this guy.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Emma said. “It’s just a bad situation.”

“Okay. I’ll respect that. But that doesn’t mean I won’t give him a swift kick in the ass for what he’s done.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Her father gave the ultrasound picture back and Emma had to go. She had a forty minute drive and would then get her chance to see Brantley. It would be the hardest and weirdest conversation of her life.

What Emma didn’t expect… was that when she saw Brantley again, she would start to fall in love with him.

(5)

*NOW*

Willow Son walked into the small bar and it erupted in cheers. They all gave a wave, signed some autographs, took pictures, and then made it very clear they were there to just hang out like everyone else.

Yeah, there was a small stage in the back of the bar.

Yeah, there were several guitars just sitting there, begging to be played.

Brantley saw the guitars and knew he would drink first, play guitar second.

Being on the tour bus for as long as he’d been, he learned how to play guitar from Ryker and Jett. He was nowhere as good as they were, but he could string together some chords and feelings, making some music. He was best kept behind a drum kit, his hands busy making noise.

The band sat in a corner booth and ordered a round for the bar. The owner came to see them and Brantley made it very clear that nobody else was allowed in the bar and that everyone that was there drank for free. The band then took a picture with the owner, who insisted he was going to blow up the picture, frame it, and hang it in his office.

“You never really gave us the whole story,” Colby said. “Not that we want to poke at you.”

“But we do,” Ryker said. “I want to know everything. It’s not everyday a guy who is supposed to be your brother confesses he’s got a four year old kid.”

“Fuck off, Ryker,” Brantley said.

“Take it easy guys,” Van said. “The situation is touchy.”

“No, it’s not,” Brantley said. “I got her pregnant. I kept it a secret from you guys. I’ve known since he was a baby that he had a condition. There was an agreement to keep distance between us and I kept my part of that. The only thing I made sure of with Harry was that if anything really bad happened, I wanted to know. Why? I don’t know. My father took off on me when I was four. He left me stranded, man. He bailed on me every weekend. He missed birthdays, holidays, and would then show up with a card with the wrong age on it. How could I be a father? That’s what I grew up with…”

“Christ,” Jett said. “That’s why you’re not in this kid’s life?”

Brantley looked at Jett. “Don’t question me. You don’t know what was said and what was arranged.”

“Aside from that,” Colby said. “She contacted you, right?”

“She contacted Harry. That was part of things.”

“Okay. She contacted Harry.” Colby grabbed his beer. He tilted the bottle toward Brantley. “But she contacted someone. She said something’s wrong. You need to figure that out, bro. Forget the rest of this for a second. That’s a kid. That’s your kid.”

“I’ve been doing what I can,” Brantley said. “Bad enough I fuck up and get her pregnant, the kid has to have a problem?”

“You’re a dick,” Ryker said. “Self pity bullshit.”

Brantley punched a bottle of beer at Ryker, spilling it. Ryker lunged forward and grabbed for Brantley. The two then started to throw punches until the band broke them up.

“Fuck you,” Brantley yelled.

“You’re calling for attention,” Van said. “Both of you.”

“I’m just saying it like it is,” Ryker said. “Don’t put guilt on anyone else, B. You do whatever you want to do. But you hide this from us? That’s low, brother. That’s really low.”

Brantley pushed from the booth. He made fists and put them on the table. “You don’t know everything. That’s my fault, I know that. I’ll explain as much as I can when I can. This hurts me. I wanted her to have an easy life without me. I wanted her to have the baby and just be normal. Who the hell wants to have a guy like me in their life?”

“Was it just some hookup?” Jett asked. “Just some chick in some city?”

“Yeah,” Brantley said. “But it meant more. It meant a lot more. I just… we broke big, guys, and she was having a baby. But she was being taken care of by her father. Me and her talked and we decided together…”

Brantley turned away from the table.

“Ah, shit,” Colby said. He stood up. He grabbed Brantley. “I’m sorry.”

The rest of the guys stood up.

Ryker stepped in front of Brantley and slapped his face. “I’ll punch you until you talk, brother. And each hit is my way of hugging you. I’m sorry for whatever you feel. But if you have a kid and that kid is sick… you need to give a second, man. What if you could do something?”

“Like what?” Brantley asked. “Show up and look cool? The rockstar Dad? Come on…”

“You don’t know,” Ryker said. “Hanging around a bar right now won’t fix that.”

“I just want to play music right now,” Brantley said. “Because if this shit happens… I don’t want to screw you guys over. If I can’t be in the studio. If I can’t be on tour. If I see her again and I feel the way I felt before…”

“Jesus, man,” Van said. “It’s okay to open your heart. It’s okay to get hurt. It’s okay to love.”

“I don’t want any of that,” Brantley said. “I want the kid to be okay, you know? I mean, shit, how is that fair…”

“It’s not,” Colby said. “But you could change that. At least you could try to.”

Brantley knew the guys were right. From the second Harry said something to him about Emma calling, he knew what he had to do. He had to call her. He had to help in any way possible. The thing was though… almost five years ago it all made sense.

“Let’s play some music,” Ryker said. “Then let’s have a few drinks.”

“And then you’re going to figure out this kid thing,” Colby said. “Shit, he could end up being the replacement drummer for you, Brantley. Once we get sick of you, we can boot you out and bring him in.”

They all laughed, even Brantley.

As he walked to the small stage, the entire bar cheered. Brantley heard it only as a muffle. He thought about right and wrong and the blurred lines in between that. That’s where he had nestled himself for years.

On stage, Brantley looked out to the people. They were standing, holding up drinks, whistling, taking out their cell phones. They only knew Brantley as part of Willow Son, which was their job to do. Nothing else mattered.

Brantley strummed a chord. He took a deep breath.

It was a simple G chord. To anyone listening, it meant nothing. To Brantley, it meant everything…

***

*THEN*

The crowds were getting bigger. Like dangerously bigger. Harry had his horns locked with two lawyers and a club owner over a poor decision to let an extra hundred people into a maxed out club and two people ended up passing out and needing medical assistance. It got some bad press for the band but they stayed ahead of it, going to the hospital to check on the injured fans to make sure they were okay.

Tonight was no different.

The bars weren’t cutting it anymore. Now it was small arenas. Selling out seven thousand seat buildings like nothing. The floor jammed packed with fans all dancing, singing, doing anything Colby said to do.

The old nights of roadies arguing and fist fighting over guitar cables, duct tape, and nonsense stuff was gone. They were organized now, paid by the record company, complete with equipment and the Willow Son name spray painted on it.

“Okay, listen up!” Colby yelled into the mic. “We’re officially at curfew here.”

The crowd boo’ed.

Colby waved a hand.

Brantley stood up. According to his set list, they weren’t done quite yet.

“Here’s the thing,” Colby said. “We’re rockstars. What the fuck does a curfew even mean?”

The crowd erupted.

Brantley hit the bass drum a few times.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Colby said. “So here’s what we have to do. We are supposed to pack it up right now. Say our goodbyes and go home. But looking out to you crazy fuckers, you don’t want that. Right?”

The place got even louder.

“So, Ryker?” Colby asked.

“What?” Ryker asked.

“Do we want to play one more?”

“Fuck yes,” Ryker said.

“Jett?”

“Yes,” Jett yelled.

“Van?”

“I’m not taking this bass off yet,” Van said.

Colby turned and pointed to Brantley. “What about you, B? You out of breath yet?”

Brantley leaned over his drums to a boom mic that he sang into for backup vocals. “No. I’m not done yet.”

From the side of the stage, Harry waved his hands. He pointed to watch and then literally started to pull at his hair.

“For every minute we play over curfew,” Colby said, “we’re going to get fined. So this is going to be the most expensive song we’ve ever fucking played. Are you ready to do this with us?”

The crowd went wild.

Brantley sat down and the band went into the final song. A very expensive final song.

It was worth the fine because it felt good to be wrong. It felt good to spit in the face of anything that resembled authority. The last few weeks had been too much bullshit with lawyers, signatures, and other business shit. That night, that show, that song, that was about music and rock n’ roll.

After the show, they all took a verbal beating from Harry. The five of them sat in metal folding chairs, drinking beer, watching Harry pace back and forth, slapping his hands together, screaming. It was like they were all kids being punished by their father.

Eventually, Harry disappeared and the night finally began.

Outside, Brantley stepped onto the small bus. He grabbed one of Ryker’s guitars and sat down. He had been practicing a little lately. It wasn’t much fun trying to drum on tables when they were on the road. Everyone else knew how to play guitar and the band had a dream of recording an acoustic only album someday. And being able to play acoustic songs during their sets.

Brantley put his fingers to the guitar and strummed a G chord.

As he literally strummed down, the bus door opened.

Harry appeared. “There you are.”

“What’s wrong? Not done yelling?”

“Someone is here to see you. She’s willing to get arrested to see you. She swears she knows you. She, uh, well… she’s got a convincing story.”

With his fingers still in position to strum the G chord, Brantley watched as Emma stepped onto the bus.

“Sexy moves?” he asked.

She smiled. “Hey.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. He stood up and put the guitar down.

“I’m stalking you,” she said.

“That’s weird,” Harry said.

“Harry, go away,” Brantley said.

“Good luck,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry to do this,” Emma said. “I just…”

“You left,” Brantley said.

“As opposed to what? Staying with you?”

“Sure. We could have gotten breakfast.”

Emma laughed. “Sure thing. I thought that would make it easier. I figured that was your style.”

“Maybe, yeah. But you’re here now.”

“Yes, I am,” Emma said. “Can you sit down?”

“Can you get closer to me?” Brantley asked. “I’ve been hoping to see you again for a long time, sexy moves.”

Emma got closer. But she was hesitant.

Brantley looked to her left hand, wondering if there was going to be a ring on her finger. Not that it mattered. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple months. Even then, it was a one night stand. No big deal.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Emma said. “Sit down.”

Brantley sat down.

He watched as Emma’s eyes dropped. She looked terrified of something.

“Hey,” he said. “Is that asshole out there? Are you with him?”

Emma shook her head. “No. I’m here…”

Before finishing her sentence, Emma reached into her bag.

She plopped down a picture in front of Brantley.

It took Brantley a few seconds to realize what he was looking at.

At first, it looked like static.

But it wasn’t static.

It was a baby.

(6)

*NOW*

Emma didn’t even want coffee. She would have preferred a stiff drink. But she wasn’t comfortable drinking in front of Cassie. Cassie was the happily married with two kids sort of a best friend that lived down the block. Her mother was a widow and had a major crush on Emma’s father. The whole thing was weird, trying to play matchmaker for her own father. But he was far from interested, even if he did help Cassie’s mother out whenever she needed.

“So what comes next?” Cassie asked.

“We wait,” Emma said. “He’s going to need the transfusion. Just to try and boost him up a little. That’s the hell of this. He can be fine one second, sick the next, and the medicines kill the infection, but they also do more damage to his system. It’s like he’s just bouncing in the middle. I hate it.”

“I hate it too,” Cassie said. “More coffee?”

“No. I’m done.”

“Are you sure you’re okay alone?”

“Cassie, I’m fine. I’m happy to be home. Finally. Being in the hospital sucks. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Seth. He’s so brave though. I think he’s just used to it all by now.”

“He’s got you for a mother,” Cassie said. “Of course he’s tough.”

“Thanks.”

Cassie finished her coffee. She then took a piece of a sticky bun and ate it. Cassie could never come over without bringing food. It was just her thing.

She had moved into the neighborhood with her husband, Ted. Ted was two years older than Emma and went to the same school that Emma did. Cassie was from Oregon.

“I can stay here. I’ll tell Ted. As long as I’m back before he goes to work tomorrow.”

“I’m fine here,” Emma said. “It’s my house. I grew up here. I’m not worried.”

Her father had given her the house two years ago when Emma tried to move out. He preferred a smaller place and lived above the bar he owned. It pained Emma to see all that happen, but her father insisted upon it. A friend of the family fixed up the house with some needed repairs, including the upstairs, allowing Emma to turn her childhood room into a master bedroom.

Life was good and life was simple… right until something happened with Seth. When he got sick, it was like the world stopped.

“I just need a good night’s rest here,” Emma said.

Cassie reached across the table and took Emma’s hand. “You know, it’s never really come up between us, but maybe it’s time to talk to his father. He might be a match.”

“I agree,” Emma said.

“You never talked about it.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I understand. I’m not asking, Emma, but if you need someone to talk to.”

“He’s a traveling kind of person. So it’s not like he lives in the next town. I’ve been in contact and all I can do is wait. Wait and take care of my son.”

“What about Ricky?”

Emma scoffed. “He never got it. He really thought he could somehow be Seth’s father. But the weird thing was he never took care of Seth. I think he just wanted to find a way to force himself on me. You know?”

“That’s not right.”

“No. And I think he told people he was Seth’s father. Like blood related. So when he couldn’t help Seth… you know, he got so angry, I almost took it as a romantic thing. Like he was genuinely upset. The truth was that he was embarrassed by it. I haven’t heard from him in days and I have no intention of talking to him right now. I can’t have that in my life. Or Seth’s life. It’s weird.”

“Well, if you need help with anything. I mean anything. You just call me. I’ve got room at my house. I can stay here. I can beat someone up for you. I keep a baseball in my trunk.”

“You’re the creepiest woman I know,” Emma said with a grin. “You bring sticky buns and have a baseball bat in your trunk.”

Cassie stood up. “Don’t forget that either.”

Emma walked Cassie to the door. They hugged and Emma finally got relief. There were plenty of times when being alone hurt her. Lots of long and lonely nights scarred her heart but tonight, she welcomed it. She crashed to the couch and traveled back in time. Her days of rock n’ roll journalism were short lived. Now she worked as an editor, able to do most of her work from home, and make a small enough living to keep the lights on. She worked the bar on the weekends with her father, either having Cassie help with Seth or friends of the family did.

Lately, it had been hard to do though. It seemed every cut or cough with Seth turned into a hospital trip. The poor kid didn’t deserve that kind of life. Emma blamed herself for it. Always being on the run in life. That night with Brantley. Getting pregnant. Still going to concerts and trying to be defiant about her career. She never put herself or her baby in danger… but still…

The doctors told Emma - hell, they insisted over and over - that there was nothing she could have done to prevent Seth’s condition.

Still, she was his mother. That came with the entitlement to guilt, right?

Emma went upstairs to check on Seth. It was his first night without machines hooked up to him. She told herself she wasn’t going to obsessively check on him. She wasn’t going to be in fear and panic. But she had just spent how many days and nights smiling and acting tough in front of her sick son?

Inching into the room, Emma realized Seth was used to people checking on him. He didn’t wake up when the nurses checked on him. Emma stood at the side of the bed and stared at Seth. For a split second she swore she didn’t see his dinosaur blanket rise and fall with one of his breaths. She tore the blanket off him and put her hand to his chest, the other to his stomach. His heart beat just fine and he took a breath, just fine.

Emma ended up on her knees, gently touching Seth’s neck to count his pulse. He was taking big and clear deep breaths. No crud in his nose or down in his chest. He was actually healthy for once. For now.

Seth’s eyes flickered and he looked at Emma. “Mommy?”

“Sorry, baby,” she whispered. “I was just checking on you. Get some sleep.”

“Mommy, I’m happy I’m home now.”

“Me too, Seth.”

“I want to stay home, Mommy.”

Emma felt her throat tighten. She leaned forward and kissed Seth’s forehead. “Just get some sleep. We’ll talk and play in the morning.”

Seth already had his eyes shut and was sleeping again.

Emma fell back to her butt and sat against the nightstand. One of Seth’s tiny hands hung from the bed. She reached for it and held his hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to keep it together.

We had an arrangement. It was weird. It was maybe wrong. But it worked. I was never going to hold him back or get in his way. He always knew the door would be open.

Right now, Emma needed him to walk through that door.

She needed to be saved.

Their son needed to be saved.

Emma forced herself to leave the room. She believed in vibes. Good vibes brought good things and bad vibes brought bad things. Her father joked with her and told her it was all just hippie shit.

Either way, Emma wasn’t going to sit there and cry for Seth. Seth was the brave one. The strong one. He was the one sleeping, wanting to wake up and have waffles with extra syrup and watch his favorite cartoons.

Back downstairs, Emma went to the dining room table. She cleaned up the coffee mugs and spotted her cellphone on the counter. She pressed a button and the screen came to life.

There was a missed call.

No voicemail.

There was also a text message… from the same number that called.

Hey, it’s Brantley. We should talk.

***

Brantley drank until he was full. By full, that meant drunk. The guys helped him up and carried him out of the bar. The night of music had been amazing, but it didn’t help the emptiness he felt.

They got him back to his place and dropped him into bed.

They all left the room except for Colby.

“Brother, I’m putting a trashcan next to the bed. I’m going to sleep on the couch in case you need me.”

“No,” Brantley said. “No, man. Go home. Go to Tessa. Take care of her.”

“Ah, shit,” Colby said. He sat down on the bed. “You’re feeling it, brother. I get that. You admitted a lot of stuff to us. I appreciate that. But you know what comes next. That’s it. I’m not going to force you. The band isn’t going to force you. You can’t use the studio and touring as an excuse for anything. Not when it’s family. And you have a son. That’s family.”

“I just assumed it,” Brantley said. “That he’s mine. I trusted her so much without… does that make me wrong to think that now?”

“Probably. But if you feel otherwise, do something about it. Talk to her about it. Get your shit together, bro.”

“I will. Give me my phone.”

“Right now?”

“Better late than never.”

“Christ, man. You’re full of something.”

Brantley reached for Colby. “I love you, man.”

“I love you too. Now figure this out. There’s a kid out there and he’s sick.”

Brantley took the phone and Colby left.

That’s when Brantley sent a message. He had no idea what time it was or if it was too late to text her. All these years of communicating through Harry. That was wrong. Everything about it was wrong.

It took a little while, but a reply came through.

Seeing it made Brantley sit up and suddenly feel sober.

Hey. Let’s talk.

A minute later, Brantley called her.

He was actually calling Emma.

After all these years.

She picked up and the sound of her voice made his heart instantly race.

“Hey.”

“Oh, damn,” Brantley said. “Sexy moves…”

“Are you drunk?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s… I haven’t talked to you in how long? And you call me when you’re drunk. Is this the guilt?”

“Come on,” Brantley said. “What do you want me to do? Everything was okay. Right? I mean, we… our plan and stuff…”

“Nothing has been okay,” Emma said. “For a long time. I appreciate the help, Brantley. The money you’ve been sending. But it’s not good with him. With Seth.”

Brantley felt his heart tug. “Shit. Seth. I forgot that’s what his name was.”

“You forgot? Seriously?”

“I try to block it… I don’t want to screw up your lives. Both of your lives. I thought this was the right thing. A good thing. But it’s not.”

“He needs you,” Emma said. “He…”

Brantley felt a fire kick up. It was an old fire, one that didn’t belong spewed at Emma. But the worst thing happened - that was him being drunk and not realizing what he was about to say.

“How do I know he’s my kid?” Brantley asked.

In his drunk mind, it was an honest question to ask.

“What?” Emma asked. “Did you really just ask me that?”

“Yeah, I did. How…”

“You’re an asshole, Brantley. A real big asshole. You know why he needs you? Because he needs a fucking blood transfusion. Apparently you and him have some special blood type. Everything has gone wrong for that boy and he’s done nothing to deserve it.”

Then there was silence.

Brantley felt his eyes fill with tears. “Okay. Fine.”

“Fine? What’s that mean?”

“Fine. He’s mine then.”

“No. I’m not doing this. Not like this. I get why we had our arrangement now. Thank you for calling and helping me with that.”

Emma hung up.

Brantley dropped the phone and fell to the side of the bed. He clutched the sheets, a mix of anger, guilt, and pain. He let out a long scream and then felt his stomach do a wicked back flip.

He made it to the trashcan just in time.

***

The next morning Brantley stumbled to the kitchen and made coffee. He ordered out for a huge breakfast and ate it like someone who had never eaten before. The entire time he kept his cellphone next to him. Bad enough all the wrong he’d done but last night he tried to talk to Emma on the phone.

He knew what he said to her. He knew how it came across. He didn’t mean it to be that way.

Calling twice to Emma proved nothing. She didn’t answer. He sent her a text, apologizing and wanting to talk to her. He then took a shower, dressed, and met the band at the studio.

They were halfway through a new song, leaving off where Ryker and Jett were debating on a guitar solo.

Brantley got warmed up behind the kit and was ready to rock. They ran through three takes on two songs and then listened back to them, trying to find out what sounded good and what didn’t.

The new music was killer. The riffs were tight, the bass deep, and the drums moving. It was radio friendly - something Portis loved - but it was still Willow Son sound and would sound great as live songs.

Portis made it clear to the band that the more singles they could produce for radio play the better off they’d be. Each one helped to secure their contract for renewal and a lot of promotional opportunity. The last thing Brantley wanted was for a Willow Son song to be used in a car commercial, but hell, if it paid well…

“That’s good,” Ryker said.

“I don’t like the lyrics,” Colby said. “They’re boring. Nothing pops.”

“Write new ones,” Van said.

“How? Think about it… I’m trying to put myself someplace dark for this and it’s not working. I joked with Tessa last night and told her she needed to leave me for a month.”

“I’ll do it,” Brantley said. “I’ll write stuff.”

“What?” Jett asked. “You? Write?”

“What?” Brantley asked.

“Bro,” Ryker said, “you could barely handle writing your name on a deposit slip to cash a freaking check.”

Everyone laughed.

“I’m serious,” Brantley said. “Maybe if I get some of this shit out of me, it’ll help. Because everything we’re listening to… everything we’re playing… it sounds like shit to me.”

That made everyone go silent.

“That’s up to you,” Colby said. “I mean, I could help you through it. We can work into a process together with what you want to say. Are you sure you want that out there? Millions of people hearing it? People singing it?”

“I’m good with it,” Brantley said. “I’ll have plenty of inspiration, I’m sure.”

Brantley stood up. He squeezed his drumsticks tight and then handed them over to Ryker.

“What’s this?” Ryker asked. “You quitting the band?”

“Something like that.”

“What?” Colby asked.

“I have to go,” Brantley said. “We’re set up here with recording for now. I tried talking to her last night and that was a mistake.”

“When you were drunk?” Van asked.

“Yeah,” Brantley said.

“Smart,” Ryker said.

“I need to just…”

“Go,” Colby said. “Do what you need to do. This is family, brother.”

“You’re my family,” Brantley said. “And I’m sorry I never said anything to you about this. We had an agreement of things, okay? I didn’t bolt on a pregnant woman and a kid. It was agreed upon… I made sure money was sent. I did what I thought…”

“Bro, get out of here,” Ryker said. “Stop trying to sell this to us.”

Brantley left the room and stood in the hallway for a few seconds.

He’d played the biggest arenas across the world. Tens upon tens of thousands of fans. But this show was for two people. A mother. A child.

It was the scariest show of Brantley’s life.

(7)

Emma caught herself waking up on the couch. The sun forced itself through the blinds and curtains, spreading across the floor. She stretched her neck and groaned. Sleeping on the couch was uncomfortable but it beat sleeping in a hospital. She got to her feet and went right for the stairs to check on Seth.

Upstairs, she heard noises.

She heard toys smacking together and Seth making sounds.

At the door, Emma opened just a little to spy on Seth. He was up, out of bed, and he was playing. He had a line of monster trucks and cars set up and was pushing them forward, crashing them into each other.

Boys…

Emma smiled and pushed the door open. “Hey, buddy.”

“Mommy,” Seth said.

“Give me a hug.”

Seth climbed to his feet and ran to her. She hugged him and casually put her hand to his forehead to check for a fever. He felt cool and comfortable. He was normal. Himself.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

“Waffles?”

“As many as you can eat.”

“Really?” Seth yelled.

“Really.”

He squeezed Emma tighter and she stood up, taking him with her. It was so refreshing to carry him like any mother would carry their son. Not rushing down the steps to find her keys, her phone, and hurrying to get him to the hospital.

The all you can eat waffle experience turned into only three waffles for Seth. He then watched cartoons and went through all of his toys. There was a sense of appreciation in his eyes and movements, one that he probably didn’t even fully understand. More than once, as Emma sat with a cup of coffee, she caught herself tearing up. Seth was a beautiful kid. He was going to have a good life, too. A fighting kind of life, but a good one.

Seth took out three giant stuffed animals. Two bears and a bunny her father had bought Seth last Easter. Seth spread them out and then ran to the kitchen for a dishtowel.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked.

Seth froze and looked back. He swung the dishtowel and said, “I’m a ninja. Those are bad guys. I have to destroy them.”

Emma laughed. “Oh?”

“I saw this movie when I was in the room” - Seth always called it the room because the word hospital scared him - “about ninjas that fought and won against bad guys. They were really fast, Mommy. I’m really fast. Want to see how fast I am?”

“Sure, Seth.”

“Here, hold my weapon.”

Emma took the dishtowel. She smiled, amazed how yesterday the towel was used to dry off a dish but now it was a weapon to destroy bad guys.

Seth bit his tongue and then ran from the dining room to the living room window. Emma felt her heart stop for a second when she saw how fast Seth was going straight for the window.

You’ve got let him live.

That’s what her father always told her.

Seth stopped and turned. “Did you see that?”

“Wow,” Emma said. “That was really fast. Here, come get your weapon.”

Seth raced back to Emma and took the towel.

The rest of the morning into the afternoon was spent playing ninjas, castle, superheroes, eating snacks, random questions, and more cartoons. It was a dream day for Emma. She had two dozen important emails to answer but she ignored them. This was about seeing Seth being healthy. Watching him run and jump and play. Seeing him stand on the couch, something he should have gotten told not to do, was a blessing for Emma.

Then, as fast as Seth started up, he winded down.

He ended up on the floor, resting on one of the bears, eyes dazed and glued to the TV.

Again, Emma casually checked him for a fever. He was still okay. She got next to him and hugged him.

“Tired out?” she asked.

“No.”

Emma slowly started to scratch the top of Seth’s head. She then ran her finger down to the bridge of his nose and back up. Three times and his eyes were shut. His mouth then opened and a small pool of drool formed.

Nap time.

Emma looked to the table. Her phone had gone off a few times and not just emails either.

Brantley got in touch because he was drunk. What was that? Just an intense wave of guilt? To do what? This wasn’t a situation about being drunk and wanting to help. Yeah, he had called this morning, but Emma didn’t have time for that yet. She needed to wrap her mind around the notion of him…

There was a knock at the front door.

Emma got to her feet.

It was probably Cassie again. Probably with some banana bread and some fancy creamer for coffee that made it taste like vanilla or something. She meant well. She was a good friend. Even if she was a little overbearing.

Emma hurried to get the door, not wanting Seth to wake up. If it was Cassie, she’d take whatever she had and show her that Seth was napping. Then Emma could nap with Seth and literally accomplish nothing for the entire day.

Which was fine.

Not every day in life had to be demanding and purposeful.

Emma unlocked the door and opened it.

She managed to gasp before she fell to the right, her shoulder crashing against a wall.

“Whoa…”

Hands grabbed for her, touching her sides.

Emma just stared.

At him.

He was here.

It was Brantley.

***

*THEN*

“You’re going to be in New York,” Emma said. She put a hand to Brantley’s hand. “I’m not going to ask you to stay.”

“I’m not staying there forever,” he said. “This is what I do. I have to tour.”

“I’m not saying not to tour,” Emma said. “You have to go. You’re a rockstar.”

“And you’re pregnant.”

Emma nodded. She took her hand away from Brantley. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just… this isn’t what it was supposed to be.”

That hurt. Emma fought the urge to cry.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I screwed this up.”

“No. We both did. We were both there that night. It takes two.”

It takes two…

“My dad is going to help me,” Emma said. “I’ll be okay with everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nobody is going to hate you or judge you for whatever you do here.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want me around?”

“You’re not going to be around, Brantley.”

“Wow. That’s a little harsh.”

“Is it true?” Emma asked.

She told herself she needed to be strong. Tough. Ruthless even. This wasn’t about herself but about the baby inside her. She couldn’t live her life chasing a rockstar around the country, showing him baby pictures and trying to get him to spend time with the baby. It wasn’t like she was out on the street either.

“I don’t know what to say,” Brantley said. “I grew up different than you, Emma. I never had… I don’t know. This just doesn't make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. Just keep it simple. You go your way, I go mine. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Like what? I just pop into town and you’re there? So I see you? I see the baby?”

“No,” Brantley said. “That’s bullshit.”

“Then get off tour and quit your band,” Emma snapped.

“Yeah, right. That’s what you want? Dig at me, I don’t care.”

“You…”

Emma felt herself ready to explode. She was hurt. She was mad. But it was at herself. At the situation. At everything swirling around her. She was also terrified. She was going to be responsible for another human life. And the guy who helped make that life would be on the road, partying, drinking, sleeping with women, living his dream.

“Let’s just come to some kind of an agreement then,” Emma said.

“And what’s that?” Brantley asked.

Emma slid out of the booth. She stuffed her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. Her belly wasn’t showing quite yet but she could feel it swelling a little.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Okay? We’ll have to figure something out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Brantley said.

Emma walked away. She didn’t say goodbye to him because it wasn’t supposed to be goodbye to him. He was supposed to get up, throw money on the table, and then chase after her. He was supposed to grab her, hug her, say something to make it all feel okay.

But Brantley didn’t do any of that.

He just sat there.

Emma was in tears by the time she got to her car.

She drove away telling herself this wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other.

But it was.

***

*NOW*

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I tried calling you…”

“How did you find out where I live?”

“I have resources,” Brantley said. “That doesn’t matter. How is… how’s Seth?”

“He’s napping.”

Anger flooded her body.

Where were you? Huh? How many women did you fuck since we last saw each other?

“Oh. Sorry.”

You should be sorry. You son of a bitch.

“Brantley…”

He stood in the doorway, easily filling it up with his tall size. His shoulders had become more rounded from all the drumming. The long sleeved shirt did nothing to hide the body under it. A body that Emma got to experience a couple times and that was it. He had his sleeves pushed halfway up his forearm, showing off tattoos that weren’t there the last time they talked.

Fuck, why did he have to be sexy still? Why did he have to be bigger and stronger? Weren’t rockstars supposed to get addicted to drugs and burn out?

“Look,” he said. “The second you called Harry I should have been here. But I didn’t do that. I tried to respect what we decided to do and that was a mistake by me. I’m here now. I’m not asking you to welcome me in and let’s be a happy family. If he needs anything from me…”

Emma burst into tears.

She remembered the first time taking Seth to the doctors when he was just a few months old. That’s when they knew something was wrong with him. She stood in the office, alone, listening to big words being thrown at her. She knew that the road that would follow would be almost impossible to navigate and she had to do it alone.

Crying, Emma lunged forward and buried her face into Brantley’s chest. She clutched the back of his shirt. His hands hung at his sides for a few seconds before he touched her. When he did, it ignited that old flame again. The instant connection. Maybe it was just something deeper, maybe the fact that they created a child together.

“I’m so sorry,” Brantley whispered. “Tell me what I can do right now.”

“Just give me a second,” Emma whispered back.

So they stood there in silence.

Emma took deep breaths, smelling Brantley, hating herself with each breath she took of him. She then quickly collected herself and pushed away. She backed into the house and kept a hand out, putting distance between she and Brantley.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“You have every right to do that and then some,” he said. “You have every right to slap me, punch me, kick me in the balls even. You didn’t answer your phone so I came to see you. I shouldn’t have contacted you when I was drunk. That was a bad move. We played this little acoustic set at a bar and the entire time I just thought about things…”

“Let’s go outside,” Emma said. “So Seth doesn’t wake up.”

They backed up to the porch and stood there.

Never in Emma’s dreams did she imagine standing on her father’s porch with a rockstar. But it was happening. It was actually happening.

“How’s he doing?” Brantley asked.

“Now? He’s good. Doesn’t mean he’ll stay that way for long.”

“So, what happens?”

“His immune system is messed up. He picks up everything he’s around. It’s a double hit with him because the medicines they give him kill infections but in turn it makes his immune system even weaker.”

“Jesus. There’s nothing they can do?”

“Well… there sort of is.”

“Which is what?”

Emma didn’t want to go there just yet. “Last night…”

“Don’t.”

“No. My father owns a bar, Brantley. I’ve grown up there. I help on the weekends. I’ve seen a lot of stuff in my life, okay? One thing I know for sure is that when someone is drunk they’re able to muster the strength to say what they really mean. So I’m going to just put it out there with us, Brantley. Do you think I’m lying about Seth?”

“No.”

“You never once thought…”

“How do I answer that?” Brantley asked. “I’m sorry, but we met, hooked up, and you were sort of with another guy.”

“That was a first date.”

“Okay. Sorry. But still.”

“Still what? I’m some whore that just spreads her legs and says have at it?”

“Emma, I never said that.”

Don’t say my damn name. It sounds too good.

Brantley approached her. Emma threw her hand out and stopped him. “Don’t do this. Don’t get close to me.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s open the book then. Yeah, I’ve thought about you every now and again. How do I know you weren’t with other guys? You just came to me and dumped that on me. We didn’t know each other then.”

“We don’t know each other now.”

“I’m here right now,” Brantley said. “Trying… I want to talk to you about everything. What happened wasn’t fair. What I did wasn’t fair. What I decided upon wasn’t fair.”

“This is about Seth now,” Emma said. “Okay? Not us.”

Brantley touched Emma’s hand and moved it out of the way. He squeezed her hand and inched closer. He stared down at her. “This is about us, Emma. What we did. And I’m here now. I’m here to do anything you need. I’ll give you anything I have.”

“I hate that,” Emma said. “I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s like you got off free for years and then show up to be the hero?”

“I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to be a man. The man I should have been a long time ago.”

Emma felt her knees buckle a little.

“Brantley…”

“I’m not asking you to let me walk right in, okay? But if you need money. You need help. You need… me… don’t hold back now. Don’t lie to me. I’m sorry I called you drunk last night. I’m sorry I even brought up the idea that Seth couldn’t be mine. That was wrong. That was me being scared and hiding.”

“I don’t see you ever being scared or hiding,” Emma said.

“You have a lot to learn about me, sexy moves.”

And right there, he’d done it.

Sexy moves.

Emma was swept back to the night they met. She felt her lips tingling, her mouth craving the taste of Brantley’s mouth to hers. She told herself she would never let it happen again, even though she was already lifting up on her toes.

They were a second away from kissing, something dangerous and insanely stupid.

The front door opened and a voice said, “Mommy?”

(8)

*THEN*

Brantley sat backstage with a towel over his head. The sweat poured down his face. He was burning hot and the beer in his hand was sweaty and cold. The band had finally done it. A thirty day stretch of thirty consecutive shows. Something unheard of but something they all wanted to do to prove they were the next big band. They were on the covers of magazines, online blogs, and were in the sights of some of the biggest bands going, like Chasing Cross, Fallen Tuesday, and Gone by Autumn. They were finally in control of their destiny, complete with a bidding war between two record companies.

The last bid had gotten so high for the next album that Brantley didn’t want to hear anymore. The amount of money being thrown around was sick. It didn’t just cement the band’s place in the music world, it cemented Brantley’s dream of never needing to depend on anyone else to survive.

It also meant a chance to give back to Emma. And the baby. A boy, too. He had a son somewhere out there. He tried talking to Emma a few times but she was busy and flustered. He offered to get off the road and help but she said not to worry about it.

Then came the call that the little guy was sick. After that, the call that the little guy would always be sick. Brantley didn’t know what to do during that time so he just listened. When he offered money, Emma got mad and hung up. That’s when he brought Harry into the picture. It was easier to have him as a middle man. Emma wanted to stick to their agreement. That meant going their separate ways. Brantley made sure she had money to survive and made it clear if there was anything else she needed…

Brantley saw a set of black heels appear before his eyes. Then the towel left his head. He looked up and a beautiful woman stood before him. Whatever the hell she was wearing couldn’t be considered clothes. Hell, it could be barely be considered lingerie.

The woman touched his face and smiled. “Hey.”

“Look at you,” Brantley said.

“Look at me.”

She reached to her shoulders and grabbed the straps of her top. She slid them down and forced her top down, exposing her breasts.

“Are you busy?” she asked Brantley.

“Not anymore,” he said.

His hands touched her sides and he pulled the woman on top of him.

This was always I’ll let you know if I need to know your name kind of thing. Because that’s what it was for Brantley. Because nobody would be Emma.

But this was what she wanted.

And that was the greatest lie Brantley would tell himself for years.

***

*NOW*

Brantley looked at the young boy and instantly dropped down to one knee. He had Brantley’s dark hair and dark eyes. His eyes were half open and he rubbed them, looking around the porch. An urge went through Brantley. One to grab the kid, hug him, and begin an apology that would take the rest of his life to fully tell.

“What are you doing awake?” Emma asked.

“I heard a noise,” Seth said. “I thought it was the bad guys.”

“What bad guys?” Brantley asked, looking at Emma.

Did she live in a bad neighborhood? Was my kid in danger?

“Ninja stuff,” Emma said. She then mouthed pretend.

“Oh, okay,” Brantley said. He looked at Seth. “You have a good side kick?”

“Who are you?” Seth asked.

“I’m…”

“This is Mommy’s friend,” Emma said. “He’s here just to say hello. He plays drums in a band.”

“Cool,” Seth said. “I have a drum at daycare.”

“Yeah?” Brantley asked. “Play anything good?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders. “Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

“Okay, buddy. Let’s go back inside.”

Emma moved toward Brantley but he didn’t want Seth to go away. He took a chance and reached forward, making a fist. “It’s nice to meet you, my man.”

Seth looked at Emma. She nodded.

Seth slowly put his hand forward and touched Brantley’s.

It sent a feeling through him he never felt before. He started to reach for Seth but Emma was already ushering the kid back into the house.

Brantley clutched his chest and took a deep breath. He felt emotion wash over him.

Shit. It hurt. It hurt really bad.

He suddenly had images of Emma being pregnant. Her belly growing big. Her body changing. Being alone. Being scared. Not being taken care of the right way. He then thought about what she looked like now. How her body had remained changed. If anyone had been with her. And whoever that was… if they appreciated what she went through.

Brantley stood up and ran his hands through his hair. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

He stepped back and leaned against the porch pillar. From the corner of his eye he saw someone walking along the sidewalk. He turned and nodded. The woman walking stopped, looked at him, then pointed.

The last thing Brantley wanted was for his visit to become a celebrity sighting.

He quickly side stepped and tried to hide. He waited a few seconds and then heard the clank of shoes hitting the porch steps.

Ah, damn.

He popped forward and the woman let out a small yell.

“Sorry if I scared you,” Brantley said.

“Who are you?” the woman asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Whoa. I’m Brantley. I’m, uh, a friend of Emma’s.”

“Friend? I’ve never seen you before.”

The front door opened and Emma stood in the doorway.

“Emma,” Brantley said. He then nodded to the woman next to him.

“Who is this?” the woman asked.

Emma rushed forward. “Cassie, hey. This is Brantley. He’s a friend of mine.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Brantley, this is Cassie, my good friend. She lives down the street.”

“Cassie,” Brantley said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Cassie said. “I saw someone on the porch and I got worried.”

“I’m not breaking in,” Brantley said. “Just waiting here.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said. “I was… well, I can’t get a hold of my father. I was going to ask him to keep an eye on Seth for a couple hours. Brantley and I need to talk.”

Cassie eyed Brantley up and down.

“I have good intentions,” Brantley said. “I’m just catching up with an old friend. We met on the road. She was dancing to my songs.”

“He’s the drummer for Willow Son,” Emma said.

Cassie let out a gasp and covered her mouth. Her cheeks turned red.

“I take it you know the name,” Brantley said. “Just not the drummer.”

“Oh my… are you serious right now?” Cassie asked. “I love you guys.”

“You just don’t know us,” Brantley said.

“No. I mean, yeah. I mean… I like Ryker. A lot. You know Ryker?”

Brantley laughed. “Yeah, I know Ryker.”

“Nobody is going to believe this,” Cassie said. She looked at Emma. “You never told me you knew someone famous.”

“It never came up,” Emma said. “I used to travel a lot. I was a music and art journalist. But, yeah, I need to go. I need to check up on my father. He’s not answering. I’m trying not to panic here but he mentioned something last week about his leg bothering him. I get paranoid…”

“Let’s go then,” Brantley said.

“What?” Emma asked.

“We’ll go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.”

“I’ll watch Seth,” Cassie said.

“You will?” Emma asked.

“Yeah. Ted has the kids. He’s doing some baseball thing or whatever. I could use some Seth time. I haven’t played with the little guy in forever. I miss him.”

“Auntie Cassie!”

Seth came running out of the house and jumped at Cassie.

Seeing that made Brantley jealous and hurt. Rightfully so though, right? This woman, this neighbor, Cassie, she had been involved in Seth’s life. Brantley hadn’t been.

“I think that’s your answer,” Brantley said.

“Auntie Cassie, this is Mommy’s friend, Brannley,” Seth said.

“It’s Brantley, buddy,” Emma said.

“No, that’s okay,” Brantley said. “Tell you what, Seth, you can call me B.”

“B? Do you have a stinger?”

Seth giggled.

Brantley laughed. He reached for the kid but stopped himself.

Watch the line, Brantley. Don’t step over it.

“Okay, then we have to go,” Emma said. “Right now. Let me get the carseat…”

“We’ll take my ride,” Brantley said. “Leave your car here. In case Cassie needs it. Okay?”

Emma looked at Brantley and grinned. “Sure.”

They then left, together, side by side.

Far from perfect but at least they weren’t far apart.

***

Emma looked out the passenger window and tried not to let it sink in.

I’m in a car with Brantley. A car he’s driving. To go see my father.

It was going to prove very interesting.

“You know, he knows everything,” Emma said.

“What?”

“My father. He knows everything about us. Just so you know.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Brantley said. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“You never met him.”

“But he matters to you. And he helped with Seth.”

Emma shut her eyes and groaned inside.

Was he seriously going to say the right thing over and over?

Emma gave the final directions to the bar.

There was a wooden sign out front that was faded. There used to be Mike’s written on it, but that was done with cheap letters that tore off and wore away. The bar had never really had an official name.

“This place has no name?” Brantley asked.

“Exactly,” Emma said. “This isn’t some private club with bouncers and VIP and half naked women. Just so you know.”

“You think that’s how I live?”

“I don’t know how you live. I don’t really care.”

“Ouch.”

Emma got out of the car. Sometimes she couldn’t contain being a bitch, but oh well. She had every right. The amount of hospital trips, doctors visits, excuses, results, medicines, insurance company fights, and bills definitely put a little callused skin on her shoulders from carrying it all alone.

She led the way to a set of steps out back and pointed. “He lives up there. I’ll be right back.”

Brantley grabbed her arm. Emma told herself the fire she felt was anger. Nothing else but anger.

“Want me to go first? Just in case?”

“No,” Emma said. “You’re not going to save me, Brantley. We’ll talk after I make sure he’s okay. Don’t move.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brantley said.

Emma ran up the steps and checked the door. It was unlocked. She went into the kitchen and called for her father. There was no response. The coffeepot was full, the coffeemaker turned off. She then hurried through the apartment, making her way to the bedroom. Her heart pounded in her chest. She never wanted to acknowledge that something could go wrong with her father. She told him to get his leg checked out but he was too damn stubborn to do so.

She opened the bedroom door and saw the bed was neatly made.

There was no sign of him.

She spun around and rushed to the bathroom.

That’s when she found his cell phone. Resting on the back of the toilet. She grabbed it and shook it.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

She tucked the phone into her back pocket and raced through the apartment again.

Suddenly, she had a terrible image… her father falling, getting sick, calling for an ambulance…

Emma hurried back outside and made it down two steps before she froze.

“Whoa!” a voice yelled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to smash your freaking head in!”

It was Emma’s father.

She hurried down the steps just in time to see her father with a baseball bat… and he started to bring it back to swing it right at Brantley’s head.

(9)

It wasn’t the first time someone tried to swing a bat at Brantley’s head, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous or scary. Especially since he didn’t expect it to happen.

He had his hands and attempted to plead his case.

“Dad!” Emma yelled as she jumped from the second step. “What are you doing?”

“Stay back!” Emma’s father yelled.

“He’s not breaking in,” Emma said. “He’s… that’s… that’s Brantley.”

Oh, shit. She just told him who I was… and he still has a baseball bat.

The man looked at Brantley.

“Don’t hit me,” Brantley said.

“You’re Brantley,” the man said. “You’re Seth’s father.”

“Yes. Emma was trying to call you. She got scared. So I drove her here.”

“Why didn’t you have your phone on you?” Emma asked. “And where were you?” She walked to her father and grabbed the baseball bat. “And put this down.” Emma grabbed the bat and shook it. “Why do you have this?”

Brantley offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Mike,” her father said. “I’m Mike.”

“Mike. Yeah.”

They shook hands.

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

Brantley could feel the tension with Emma right there.

“If I could, uh, say something,” Brantley said. “I’m here…”

“No,” Mike said. He looked at Emma. “First off, I keep a bat just in case. I pulled up and there’s some guy lingering around the back of my bar. I know some guys that have had their bars broken into. My fault. I left my phone on the toilet because I was running behind this morning. Didn’t even get my damn coffee. And the reason for that is because I had a doctor’s appointment for my damn leg.”

Brantley watched Emma’s eyes narrow. “And what did the doctor say?”

“My leg is fine,” Mike said. “I have to keep an eye on it and if it bothers me again, I could get a scan or something done.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Emma, cut it,” Mike said. Then Mike finally set his sights on Brantley. “So you’re here for what, huh?”

“Seth,” Brantley said. “I mean, to help Seth.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Mike said. He pointed to the building. “Why not start with this building then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve mortgaged this place three goddamn times to help my grandson,” Mike said. His face turned red. “What were you doing? Playing with some tree sticks on stage?”

Brantley stepped forward. “Wait a second here…”

“No,” Emma cut in. “No. We’re not doing this like this.”

“No, let’s all talk,” Mike said. “We’re men.”

Brantley turned away and took a few steps. He reminded himself that any anger was deserved. From the outside point of view, Brantley was a jerk. Making excuses or spouting reasons didn’t matter.

“Dad, please,” Emma said. “You don’t get it right now.”

Brantley looked at Mike. “She’s right. We both don’t get it.”

“Well, look, I’m fine,” Mike said. “Sorry I gave everyone a little scare. Now I have to get in there and open up shop. I’m surprised there’s not a line at the door. I put a note up that I wasn’t going to open up like normal, but you know how the regulars are. God forbid they sit home and drink a beer.”

“Helps you out though, right?” Brantley asked.

Mike stuck a key in the door to the bar and unlocked it. He then looked at Brantley. “You know, my mind spins a lot. I try to grab onto anything I can. I accepted my daughter in and had a feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Dad,” Emma said.

“No, no, I get it. You two had a thing worked out. I get it. Just let me…” Mike said. “Seth is a great kid. I know you not being around has nothing to do with what’s wrong with him. But you’re the one I blame. That’s what I wanted to say. And I said it.”

Mike went into the bar and shut the door.

The words hit Brantley hard, but he had it coming. He stood there and gently nodded.

“Brantley,” Emma whispered.

He felt her hand touch him and he pulled away. “It’s okay. He’s right.” Brantley looked at Emma. “I blame myself too. From the second I heard it.”

“No. You can’t…”

“Are you hungry, sexy moves?”

Emma nodded. “I can eat.”

“Is there anywhere we can go without being seen?”

Emma bit her lip and nodded to the bar.

“Your father cooks, too?”

“A little bit of everything.”

“We could go somewhere else,” Brantley said. “I know a lot of places. Might be a small drive though.”

Emma touched Brantley’s chest, right at his heart. He felt everything he felt years ago. But he couldn’t say or do anything about it right now.

As he reached for Emma’s hand, she slid it away. “I can’t go too far, Brantley. I have a son to take care of.”

“Hey,” he said. “We… have a son. Okay?”

Emma shook her head. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to show up and look like a hero. I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen with me.”

“Okay. Then what the hell am I doing here? Huh?”

Brantley saw the anger flash across her face.

“You really want to ask me that?” Emma asked. She then shook the baseball bat. “Huh?”

“Go ahead and hit me,” Brantley said. “I don’t give a damn. I’m here. That has to count as something, Emma. I’m trying, okay? You’ve done nothing to tell me what you want right now from me. I haven’t said a thing to Seth about who I am. I’m sorry I said our son. Okay? You’re his mother. I know that. You’ve raised him on your own. I know that. But right now, I’m here. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

“That’s what you don’t get, Brantley. This isn’t a as long as you need thing. This is a life. This is my… our son’s life. You can’t just stop in for a few days and go.”

“Then I won’t.”

“What are you going to do? Move here? Buy a house?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Emma made fists and pounded at Brantley’s chest. “It’s not about what I want! It’s about what he needs!”

Brantley took the hits a few times and then grabbed Emma by her shoulders. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

Emma looked at him, tears in her eyes. “You don’t know that. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

“Then tell me. Let me in, Emma. Let me be here without guilt. We had a deal together, right? I’m sorry if that turned out to be wrong. If I could build a time machine…”

“But you can’t,” she said. She shook away from Brantley. “You can’t do anything to fix it.”

Emma dropped the baseball bat her father had tried swinging at Brantley and then stormed away.

Brantley sighed and grabbed the bat.

The backdoor to the bar opened and Mike came out.

He pointed to the bat. “Want to burn off steam for a second?”

“What?”

“Where’d she run to?”

“I don’t know,” Brantley said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say to her. I don’t want to just step in here, you know? But I am here. We have things to talk about…”

Mike wiped his hands on a towel hanging over his shoulder. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

Mike disappeared for a second and returned with a couple cans of beer. He then walked to wooden railing and put the cans on it.

“What are you doing?” Brantley asked.

“Blowing off steam. These are skunked cans. I keep them. I want you to hit the can.”

“Hit a can of beer?”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Do it.”

“What?”

“I’m being serious. I can’t help you with my daughter. Hell, I want to take that baseball bat to your legs.”

“She and I…”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t care. It’s not my business. I did what I had to do for her. I can’t fault a man for giving an attempt. It’s at a good time, too. This last scare with Seth was bad. He was in the hospital for two weeks. I know they were talking about certain procedures and whatnot. Emma had been seeing a guy… I never really like the asshole myself. But he kept her company…”

Brantley felt his blood boiling. He didn’t want to imagine Emma with another man. Then again, it wasn’t like she had been waiting and saving herself for years for Brantley. He knew that. But still… fuck.

“He tried to push in too much I think. There was a discussion about Seth’s blood type and it caused a problem.”

“Who was the guy?”

“You can talk to her about it. But he was around a lot. Did stuff with her and Seth. Took her on dates. You know, he did try to be…”

Brantley lifted the bat and swung it down, smashing it against a can of beer. The can exploded and beer sprayed everywhere.

But it felt good.

“Told you,” Mike said. “Hit the other one.”

Brantley took a breath. “So, tell me, what do I do here?”

“That’s your business, son,” Mike said. “Just remember what it’s like for Emma. Okay? Whatever you two had arranged she kept to as long as she could. Within all those years, yeah, she needed you, but she kept strong. She’s a good mother. A good daughter. I want her to be happy and settled with everything. Seth has a long road ahead of him but I know the fighter inside his heart.”

“So I just stick this out?”

“Or leave. What’s the difference?”

Mike turned and walked away.

“Hey, Mike.”

Mike looked back.

“I’m not leaving,” Brantley said. “I can do my job from anywhere I want. And even if I had to go on tour, I’m not leaving. I shouldn’t have left before. I grew up different, you know? I didn’t know…”

“Don’t explain that to me,” Mike said. “There’s a woman who is afraid of being hurt again. And there’s a little boy who just assumes he has no father.”

Mike went back to the bar.

Brantley gritted his teeth and swung the bat again. The second beer can exploded. It really did feel good.

When Brantley looked at the bat, dripping with beer, he exhaled. He would be the skunked beer can for Emma. She had worn a smile for too long. It was time for her to be okay with her pain, her anger, and her fear.

Brantley knew what it was like to be a rockstar… but now he had to be a man. And a father.

***

Emma stood on the other side of the car, leaning against it, like a defiant child. Brantley smiled to himself until he realized Emma was sobbing. He then quickly rushed to her, keeping a somewhat safe distance.

“Hey,” he said. Don’t ask her what’s wrong. “What can I do?”

Emma looked at him. “I don’t know, Brantley. I see you standing there but I don’t believe it. And I don’t want you to hate me for that.”

Gently, he touched her shoulder. “I won’t hate you for that. Ever. I promise you that. We’re here for a reason, Emma. Right now, right in this moment. I mean, I just hit beer cans with your father.”

“Oh, no. He didn’t.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s at least a good sign from him. He never…”

“… did that with your boyfriend?”

Emma’s cheeks turned red.

“It’s okay,” Brantley said. “It’s selfish to think you wouldn’t be with someone. You deserve to be happy. Our arrangement didn’t include forgetting ourselves. It bothers me though.”

“It does? Why?”

“Because you’re you,” Brantley said. “Maybe there’s some romantic fantasy inside me that has this happening for a bigger reason. Okay? I’m not the guy you met all those years ago. If you give me the time and chance I can explain things to you. Not make excuses. Not justify anything. But an understanding. And for anything with Seth… he’s your son, Emma. You carried him. I can never make that up. You took care of him. I can never thank you enough. But, shit, if it was that bad financially, I wish you would’ve called me. There’s so much I could give you. At least in that sense. It doesn’t make me right or a hero, I don’t want that. But if it’s for the health of our… your son…”

Brantley really had no end to his point. He was going to talk until he ran out of words or Emma stopped.

Emma stopped him.

She pushed forward and moved to her toes, kissing him.

Their lips touched for a second and when she tried to pull back, Brantley slipped his hands around to the small of her back and kept her there. He stole another kiss, because that was his style. He urged for another one but stopped himself.

“What about…”

“No,” Emma whispered. “Trust me, there’s nobody else. Nobody even close.”

Brantley kissed her again. This time, it was on. Their lips parted, their tongues touching. It was like a storm coming back to life. A hurricane ripped through Brantley’s body and that was fine. Any damage Emma could do was worth it. He could handle devastation if it meant tasting her one more time.

Emma put her hands to his chest and pushed away. She shook her head. “I can’t… it’s…”

“Okay,” Brantley said. “I lost myself for a second. Look, I can’t take you out, that’s okay. It’s almost night. I’m not going to sit in a bar and eat a greasy burger with you. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Emma said.

Brantley touched her chin and smirked. “I’m going to order from your favorite restaurant. Then we’re going to pick it up and take it back to your place. Okay? We’ll stay there, eat, talk, whatever you want. Put Seth to bed and figure all this out.”

“And at the end of the night?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Brantley said. “I have a big backseat. And there’s plenty of hotels. I can make a phone call and have my manager arrange it. That’s not your concern.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Brantley, you can’t hurt him. You can hurt me, I don’t care. But you can’t hurt him.”

“I would never hurt him,” Brantley said. “You just give me the word and I’ll do anything. I swear.”

Brantley leaned and put his forehead to Emma’s. He wanted to kiss her again but held off. This wasn’t all about him anymore. This was about something much greater.

***

“Wait out here for a minute,” Emma said. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Brantley said. He grabbed for Emma’s hand. “And hey, it doesn’t bother me to be your friend. In front of Seth. I’m not here to jump in as his father, okay? I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. And I don’t want to confuse him. Not if he’s sick. You know?”

“You keep saying the right things at the right time,” Emma said. “I hate that.”

“I’m just saying what I believe.”

“Again,” Emma said.

She pulled her hand away and went inside. She tried to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. Nothing bad was going to happen. And once they were actually alone and quiet she could then explain what she needed from Brantley. He was the only one that could provide a needed blood transfusion for Seth. For some reason she was afraid to talk about it. She feared Brantley would bolt. But why?

“Mommy!” Seth yelled and ran toward her.

Cassie was on her knees, putting toys away.

“Cass, I can do that,” Emma said. “You don’t have to clean up.”

“No, it’s fine. I think I made more of a mess than he did.”

Emma lifted Seth and touched his forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“What did you do with Auntie Cassie?”

“Watched TV. Played cars. She doesn’t know how to play cars the right way.”

“Seth,” Emma said.

“It’s true,” Cassie said. “I didn’t realize they had to be in color order and in ninja order.”

“Oh, right,” Emma said. “That’s very important.”

“Or else the bad guys will win,” Seth said.

“That’s right,” Emma said. She kissed Seth. “Why don’t you finish cleaning up so I can talk to Auntie Cassie for a second?”

Emma put Seth down and he ran to his toys. His version of cleaning up was to make a bigger mess and then attempting to clean up. Normally Emma would stay on top of him about it, but not tonight.

“Hey, how’s your father?” Cassie asked.

“Fine. He left his cellphone in the apartment. He had a doctor’s appointment.”

“And… your friend?”

“He’s on the porch.”

“What?”

“Come here,” Emma said. She led the way to the kitchen. “I have to tell you something. You have to stay calm.”

“Okay…”

“Brantley… he’s Seth’s father.”

Cassie’s eyes and mouth went wide. “Are you… wait. Wait a second. You’re saying… you and Brantley? The drummer from Willow Son?”

Emma laughed. “Yes. Okay? We had a little thing back in the day. I don’t look at him like you do, Cassie. But he’s Seth’s father. Okay?”

“Okay. Wait a second. I have to stop looking at him like a famous person. He’s an asshole.”

“No, he’s not,” Emma said. “Nobody knows what he and I decided upon. I don’t want anyone to judge him. This is between me and him.”

“And Seth.”

“And Seth, yes. But it’s our thing. I’m telling you, Cassie, because I trust you. I’m not letting him into my life without reason. I’m not letting a stranger into my house or around my son. Seth doesn’t know about Brantley either. I’m going to keep it that way. Right now, I just need him. He could help Seth. He could help me.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that he’s freaking gorgeous,” Cassie said with a devilish grin.

“Down girl. You’re married.”

“To a lawyer.”

“I’m sure Ted is wild in bed. Probably uses really big legal words.”

“Yeah, right,” Cassie said. “Caveman grunts.”

Emma laughed. “That I didn’t need to hear.”

“Listen, Em, you do whatever you have to do. Thank you for telling me this. I won’t try yelling at him next time he’s sneaking around on your porch.”

“He’s on the porch now. He’s making arrangements to get some dinner delivered. I need to really sit and talk with him about Seth. Make sense of all this.”

“Okay. If you need anything, you call me. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you have, but if you need legal advice… my grunting caveman can help.”

“My gosh,” Emma said. “I’ll never look at Ted the same now. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hey, when you go out there, send Brantley in.”

“If I can pick my jaw up off the porch,” Cassie said with a wink. She then mouthed so fucking hot…

Emma had never seen her get so hot and bothered before.

The power of Brantley.

Emma knew that power… and she needed to fight it off…

***

“I’m crashing up here for a little bit,” Brantley said.

“Do your thing,” Colby said. “It’s fine. I talked to Harry and he relayed the message to Portis. The news songs are almost mixed. Portis loves what we’re doing. It’s all smooth and fine. We have a few shows planned but we can cancel or move them.”

“No,” Brantley said. “I’ll be there for the shows. I’m not bailing on you guys. I just have to manage all of it. I’m not used to this yet.”

“I can’t imagine,” Colby said. “What’s happening with the kid?”

“I met him. I didn’t say much. I don’t want to confuse him. I’m letting Emma take the lead on it all. I just… I just want to get through to her. Make her realize I’m not here for a second and then leaving.”

“You’ll get there,” Colby said. “I can’t believe all this.”

“Neither can I. But if there was a person… you know, that one person…”

“Christ,” Van yelled into the phone. “Are you falling in love already?”

Already?

“I’m on speakerphone?”

“Yeah,” Colby said. “Sorry.”

Brantley heard the front door behind him. He turned and saw Cassie give a nervous wave.

“Hey, hold on,” Brantley said to her. He put his phone on speaker. “Is Ryker there?”

Cassie shook her head. “No.”

Brantley smiled big. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Ryker said through the phone.

Cassie gasped.

“Hey, brother, I’ve got a big fan of yours here,” Brantley said. “She’s a little starstruck right now.”

“Is she hot?” Ryker asked.

“You’re on speaker, man,” Brantley said.

“I don’t care. I asked a question.”

“Just say hi to her.”

“Hey stranger,” Ryker said.

“Uh… hey,” Cassie said. She was shaking.

“She sounds hot,” Ryker said.

“Bro, you have a girlfriend,” Brantley said. “And Cassie is happily married.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” Ryker said.

“Okay then,” Brantley said. “I’m hanging up. You guys stay out of trouble.”

“You do the same,” Colby said. “Good luck with everything, man. Don’t fuck this up.”

Brantley ended the call. “Believe me now?”

“I never doubted it,” Cassie said. “I can’t believe I just talked to Ryker on the phone.”

“Are you leaving? You could stay and eat with us if you want.”

“No, I’m good. I think you and Emma…” Cassie put a hand out. “It’s not my business.”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“Okay. Just… you know what? Listen to your band. Don’t fuck this up.”

With that said, Cassie walked off the porch.

Brantley turned and saw Emma standing with the door.

He knew walking through that door was going to change his life forever.

But the second Emma smiled at him, he didn’t give a damn about change. Not if it put him with Emma once and for all.

(10)

Everything was foreign to Brantley as he watched Emma interact with Seth. The kid was fun as hell though. The way he talked about fighting, ninjas, weapons, and bad guys, it was amazing. His mind was beautiful and in some way, he was artistic. By creating these worlds in his mind and fighting bad guys, Brantley was quick enamored.

Brantley put his and Emma’s food in the oven and left it there to stay warm. Seth was supposed to be in bed thirty minutes ago but he was swinging a dishtowel making hi-yah sounds as he jumped from the couch to the floor.

“Nice jump,” Brantley said.

Seth looked at him. There was a split second where Brantley almost felt as though Seth knew.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Brantley said. “How many bad guys are there?”

“Four. And I’m all alone.”

“Wow,” Brantley said. He slid from the chair to a crouching position. “You know, Seth, I play drums, right? I have some drumsticks with me. I can help you. I mean, you don’t need it, but I’m there, man.”

“Really?” Seth asked. “Wow. So you’re a ninja drummer?”

“Yeah. Ninja drummer.”

“Cool!”

“Stay right there.”

Brantley hurried out to his car, his heart racing. It was so dumb, right? His first interaction with his son and it was over a set of drumsticks, pretending he was a ninja? Or maybe that’s what the father thing was all about.

When Brantley rushed back inside, Emma stood there, arms crossed.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing. By all means. Go get the bad guys.”

“Are you going to make some comment about me looking in the mirror?”

“No, not at all.”

Brantley went to the living room and crouched down. He showed Seth his drumsticks. Funny that there were people that would give anything to have Brantley’s drumsticks.

“Whoa,” Seth said. “Those are cool.”

“Tell you what… let’s finish off these bad guys… and then you have to catch some sleep. I’ll let you keep the drumsticks on your nightstand, just in case.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“Sure, man. Okay, what do we do?”

Seth walked to a large teddy bear and balanced it against a wall. He bit his tongue as he did so. Brantley smiled. The kid was beautiful. Perfect. Cool as anything.

“You have to fight him,” Seth said. “I’ll fight the other one.”

“Okay. Here we go.”

Brantley moved forward, crouched down. He mimicked Seth’s ninja sounds and heard Emma laugh. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. He then faced the teddy bear and reached for its leg.

“Oh, no,” Brantley said.

He swung the bear’s foot and purposely let a drumstick fly out of his hand. He then put the bear on top of him.

“Help, Seth,” Brantley said. “He’s got me!”

Seth let out a yell and jumped at the bear. He started to punch and kick. Brantley rolled away from the bear and got to his knees.

“Hold him up!” Brantley said.

Seth picked the bear up.

Brantley lunged forward and jammed the drumstick into the bear’s stomach.

“Yes!” Seth cried out. “You did it.”

The bear fell and Brantley lifted his drumstick. “We did it, man.”

He put his fist out and Seth did the same. They touched and Brantley smiled.

“Hey, go get that drumstick,” Brantley said.

There was something about watching Seth touch a drumstick. He held it like a sword, amazed.

“Okay, man,” Brantley said. “I think we did it. You can keep that drumstick, okay? But you have to make me a promise.”

“What?” Seth asked.

“You can’t hit anyone with it. It’s very powerful. Okay?”

Seth nodded.

“Only for the bad guys, Seth. Right?”

He kept nodding.

“Okay, Seth,” Emma said. “Why don’t you say goodnight to Brantley. Let’s go get some sleep.”

“Seth, can I keep this drumstick?” Brantley asked. “In case anything happens down here?”

“Are you sleeping over?” Seth asked. He smiled big.

“I… uh… uh…”

“Seth, just say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, man,” Brantley said.

“Goodnight,” Seth said.

He walked to the stairs slowly, looking back. Brantley could feel the tug in his chest. Goddamn, he wanted to just grab the kid and hug him.

Seth made it up two steps and Brantley stood up.

He’s my son. Even if I wasn’t there…

“Wait,” Brantley said. “Real ninjas… they hug before saying goodbye. Or goodnight.”

Brantley walked to the steps. He looked at Emma and nodded. He was begging with his eyes.

He leaned down and felt Seth’s little arms wrap around his neck. He put one hand to the kid’s back and hugged him. Brantley never felt anything like that in his life. It was so much Brantley caught himself getting overwhelmed with emotion.

He said one more goodnight and broke away from Seth.

He walked to the kitchen and started to get the food out of the oven. He managed to get the containers out and then stopped. He gripped the oven door handle and gritted his teeth.

The anger for himself was rampant. It was real.

Brantley stood there until he saw Emma from the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked at her. “Everything. I am so fucking sorry, Emma. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe I didn’t get up that day in the diner and chase you down. Grab you. Tell you we could work it out. I just sat there, not wanting to tell you my story. Not wanting to bring you into it and hurt you. Goddamn myself.”

Emma stepped into the kitchen. She put a hand up Brantley’s shirt and pushed at him. He turned sideways and then let Emma push him against the fridge. A couple empty dishes on top of the fridge rattled.

“That’s right,” Emma said. “Goddamn you.”

Brantley opened his mouth to try to find the next set of right words to say… but he didn’t have to.

Emma moved to her toes and kissed him.

***

Brantley grabbed her and put her on the counter. Their mouths were going wild at one another. This had been building for years. Lots of long years at that. Brantley grabbed the bottom of Emma’s shirt and lifted. He was going aggressive because he needed it. The emotions running through him left him with two choices: finding a punching bag or ravage Emma right here, right now.

Her shirt went up and over her head and Brantley dropped it to her floor. She did the same to him. Her eyes and hands clawed at his chest, admiring what the years of touring and hours of drumming had done to him.

“Oh, shit,” Emma whispered.

“We could stop, sexy moves,” Brantley said. “I don’t want…”

“Shut up,” Emma said. “Just go for it. Don’t be a pussy right now.”

Holy shit. Did she just call me a pussy?

Brantley buried his face into her chest and kissed her. She leaned back to her elbows and let out a sigh. His hands reached around and unsnapped her bra. Emma wiggled it off her arms and Brantley grabbed her by her sides and nuzzled his nose to her left nipple. His tongue rolled across her nipple and then gently sucked against her warm and soft skin.

Emma groaned.

The memories flooded back to Brantley.

He tasted her again, pulling at her, loving her body just as he had done before. As his teeth grazed against her hard nipple, he tugged until she let out a whimper. He let her go and kissed down. Emma’s hand moved to her stomach and spread wide. Brantley pulled away and then unbuttoned her jeans. He pulled at her jeans, forcing her to lift her ass up so he could slide them down. Her panties were black and thin, so freaking sexy. Brantley couldn’t figure out why it turned him on so much that Emma was a good mother but wore panties like this.

Goddammit… she’s still wild.

Brantley touched her wrist and pulled. “It’s okay, Em.”

“No. It’s not. I’m not the same.”

“Neither am I,” Brantley said.

He leaned down and kissed her hand. Slowly, he placed his lips to her fingers, one by one. He then tugged at her wrist, sliding her hand away.

She was still fucking sexy. Her stomach was flat, the marks from pregnancy visible, but that didn’t matter to Brantley. If anything, it made her even hotter. To know all she sacrificed for another life to come into the world.

Brantley kissed her, easing down her belly.

Emma’s hands clutched the edge of the counter as Brantley’s tongue slithered into her panties. He then curled his fingers around the sides of her panties and eased them down. He watched her beautiful sex become visible. Her skin was smooth, her folds damp with honey, ready for tasting. The smell of her desire made Brantley groan under his breath. He stripped her completely naked and placed his hands to her inner thighs and opened her. His thumbs touched her soft wetness and made circles. Emma groaned again and thrust at him, her curvy hips moving left to right, up and down.

His left hand squeezed at her thigh while his right hand kept touching, kept exploring. His thumb curled against her sensitive clit. He applied pressure and made circles, watching the way Emma’s body reacted to his touch. She put her head back, her perfect breasts sticking out, and was nothing but a fucking dream to Brantley.

He half expected to snap out of it and be standing in the bathroom to some hotel in some city with some groupie snoring in his bed.

But this was real. It was all real.

Emma was real.

Brantley slid his thumb down, parting her delicate folds. He then moved forward, needing to taste her. As Brantley’s tongue slid between her legs, curling gently, tasting her honey, he realized this was his first taste of her. The last time they were together - their first and only time - they hadn’t had time for playing. It was just right down to business.

Emma thrust her hips and let out a whimper.

Brantley grabbed her by the hips and held her steady. It was obvious her needs hadn’t been a focal point of attention in a long time, maybe never. And that pissed him off. Of all the ways to let a beautiful woman down, Brantley had managed to do it all.

But with each flicker of his tongue to Emma’s body, he was going to fix it. All of it.

The tip of his tongue touched Emma’s clit and she reached for his hair, pulling at him. Brantley stayed right with her, sucking against her perfect body, his right hand spreading across her belly, feeling the soft bumps of the marks left by pregnancy. It was goddamn sexy and goddamn beautiful.

He cut his tongue left to right, over and over, feeling the nub of her pearl, knowing he had found her sweet spot. Emma rocked harder, grinding against him. Her nails dug into his scalp, wanting him closer, tighter.

Brantley stayed right with her, right on the kitchen counter. A woman like Emma deserved to be fucked in the kitchen, on the counter, anywhere she wanted to be fucked. Her responsibilities were fulfilled for the day. Now it was her turn to relax and take it…

Brantley slid his tongue down to her center and thrust, feeling her welcome him. He brought his thumb down and touched her clit, pressing and twisting, bringing out another cry from her.

“Right there,” Emma purred at him. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Brantley groaned under his breath. Hearing her curse and command him… goddamn.

He felt her body pulsing, squeezing as she built herself into climax.

When her body let go, Emma took her hand from Brantley’s head and grabbed the counter again. She pulled herself at him, lifting her ass, groaning with each pulse of her orgasm.

Brantley placed his hands to her ass and held her, feeling her flexing as she came. His tongue slid back up to her tender nub and he stayed with her, slowly flicking against her, watching and loving the way she kept moving.

It was endless and she wasn’t pulling away.

Brantley snuck one hand from her body and hurried to open his jeans. He wrestled them down as far as he needed to. He was rock hard, taking him into his hand, gripping at his thick root, ready to go.

In a swift move, he took his mouth from Emma’s body and he stood up.

She let out a cry and looked at him, quickly realizing what he was going to do next. She bit her lip and nodded.

Yes… fuck yes…

***

Emma felt herself losing complete control. Her mind begged her to stop this, all of this, right now. But her body and heart ached for something else. It had been too many years since Brantley looked at her and touched her like this. It had been too many years since the touch of a man made her feel so alive and so welcomed. Any other physical experience since Brantley had been nothing spectacular.

Her hands touched his lower stomach as the beginning of him started to open her. The tingling pleasure soared through her entire body. She took deep breaths, trying to figure out what to do.

It wasn’t like Brantley was some stranger, right? He was the father of their child. They had been here, done that before. Only this time, there was no chance of Emma getting pregnant.

“Sexy moves,” Brantley whispered, “I promise you, you’re the only one I’ve wanted like this.”

“In the kitchen?” Emma asked.

“No. Like this.” Brantley looked at his unsheathed, steel hard dick, and gave a nod. “But I will go get something…”

“No,” Emma said. Her hands slid to Brantley’s firm ass. “No. Go. Right now. Hurry.”

Emma pressed her chest against Brantley’s. She knew by sitting up it was going to create a whole new angle and sensation of things, but that was just fine. As Brantley started to thrust, Emma’s hands felt his muscles flexing. He gently ripped her open, and not only her body either. Her hands clung to his back, holding on tight. Her mouth kissed his chest and then rested open, trying to breathe through the insane pressure.

“Oh, damn,” Brantley growled. His mouth kissed her neck and then worked down her chest. He started to pull back and thrust forward again, offering himself. “Emma… goddamn…”

Brantley’s warm breath spread across her left breast. Emma gently put her head back and let out a sigh. It was almost a relief to feel Brantley like this. Her body bouncing with the movements of his body. The sound of their bodies coming together, Brantley’s grunts and breaths, it was everything Emma had been waiting for. His hands dug into her lower back and pulled as he thrust forward. Emma felt her hips buck at him as he reached depths only Brantley could reach.

The small kitchen never seemed so hot before.

Emma ended up with her hands on Brantley’s shoulders as she rocked her body with the rhythm of his. As she felt herself climaxing for a second time, her eyes went wide and she looked at Brantley. He offered a sly grin as though he knew right then that she wasn’t used to going twice in a one night. Or twice during one round of amazing sex.

Brantley then put a hand to Emma’s face, his thumb stroking her cheek. They settled into a speed together, their eyes locked, foreheads touching. His other hand started at her chest and worked its way down. He rested his hand against her stomach. It sent an instant fear as Emma knew she wasn’t the same as before. But Brantley didn’t seem to notice or care.

His lips grazed hers. “You’re more beautiful than ever.”

Emma groaned and bit at Brantley’s lip. “Fuck… you…”

Brantley kissed her, stealing her words and thoughts.

All there was then was their pleasure.

And a minute later, Brantley’s climax. He was almost painfully deep inside Emma when he started to come. She felt the pulsing of his body along with hearing his grunts as their lips continued to touch.

Slowly, softly, Brantley continued to have Emma. He didn’t just pull and run away. He was there, his hands touching, exploring, leaving Emma on edge because she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about anything.

Brantley kissed just above her breasts. “I meant it, sexy moves. More beautiful than ever.”

“That’s a lie,” Emma said. “But I appreciate it. All things considered…”

Emma pushed at Brantley and she slid off the counter. She felt her body still tingling, her legs wobbly for a few seconds as she tried to gather up her clothes.

“We should eat something,” she said. “I have beer and wine if you want.”

She stood in the kitchen then, holding her clothes against her body.

Brantley grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. His hands slithered around her body and he held her.

“I can’t ever take it back,” Brantley said. “If I could, I would. I want you to know that. I’ll tell you that everyday for the rest of my life. Whatever I need to do for Seth, I’ll do it. As far as us… I want whatever you want. What just happened between us, that means something to me.”

Emma turned her head and looked up at Brantley.

This was what she wanted. The second she met Brantley, famous or not, she felt a connection. But she knew the wildness in his eyes and she never wanted to hold him back.

Reaching up, she touched his face. “We’ll talk, I promise. I’ll tell you everything you want and need to know. We both did this, Brantley. That’s why I’m in pain but I get it. This all hurts. This all sucks.”

“It does. But I’m here now.”

“You can’t just show up and, what, live here?”

“I told you I would,” Brantley said. “I’ll grab an apartment and we’ll work on everything. Whatever you think we need to do. I don’t want Seth confused. If it hurts him, I’ll deal with it. The band is less than an hour away from here. I travel by car, train, plane, whatever.”

Emma grinned. “And tomorrow? Any shows?”

“No,” Brantley said. “But I have some studio time I could take advantage of. Want to join me? Maybe bring Seth? Let him see something really cool?”

“A bunch of rockstars in a studio?” Emma asked. “What kind of mother am I?”

“To be fair, you are naked in your kitchen with a rockstar,” Brantley said.

Emma blushed and wiggled away from Brantley.

She walked forward and then looked back, wanting to say something flirty. She wanted her chance to get the last word in. But when she saw Brantley’s well toned body and the fact that he had no shame as he kept his hands at his sides, leaving everything to be seen, she had nothing to say.

Just like before… mesmerized… falling for him instantly…

(11)

Brantley flipped the pancake and watched it do two spins. It slapped down on the griddle with a sizzle. He then twirled the spatula in his hand and pointed it at Seth. The kid let out an awed giggle and covered his mouth.

“You do one,” Brantley said. “Come here. I’ll grab a chair.”

“I’m not allowed to touch that.”

“Says who?”

“Says Mommy.”

“Well… Mommy is still sleeping. It’ll be our secret.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come here, kid.”

Brantley had woken up to some crazy stuff in his life. Not just women either. He once woke up on the wrong tour bus in the wrong city with the wrong band. He once woke up in a hotel room in Florida with two flamingos in the room.

But waking up to find Seth standing next to the couch, staring at him, that was different. Weird yet amazing. Brantley got up and went right to work. Whatever the hell that meant. Seth guided him through the kitchen to get a glass of milk, a banana, and what cartoons to put on. Ten minutes after that, Seth wanted to know when he was getting pancakes.

So pancakes it was.

Brantley had to read the side of the pancake mix box to figure out what to do.

Setting up the chair at the counter, Brantley had to smile at himself. Just hours ago he had Emma on the counter…

“Here,” Brantley said. He gave Seth the spatula. “Just slide that under the pancake and lift it. Then flip it.”

Seth stuck the spatula into the pancake and twisted. It looked like a pancake crime scene within a second.

“Not bad,” Brantley said.

Seth smiled. “Cool.”

“Yeah, man. Very cool.”

Brantley flipped the other handful of pancakes. “There. We’re almost ready to eat.”

“Why haven’t I met you before?”

“What?”

“You’re Mommy’s friend. I haven’t met you.”

Brantley felt his heart drop. “Uh… well… I travel a lot, buddy. I get to go across the world and play concerts.”

“Drums?”

“Yeah. My drums. So I have been doing that. Uh… you know, your Mommy told me that you were in the hospital and I got worried. You know? So I decided to get off the road and come here to help out.”

“I’ve been in the hospital a lot.”

“Yeah, you have.”

Seth stared at Brantley, figuring him out.

“I wish I had more to say,” Brantley said. “But I don’t. The thing is… I mean… life… um…”

Brantley had nothing.

“What is going on down here?” a voice chimed in.

Emma stood in the archway to the kitchen. Her hair messy but obviously cleaned up a little. Her face looked like sleep and her PJ’s were sexy as hell. Baggie pants and a tank that was killer tight in all the right spots. She had a bra on, leaving Brantley to wonder if she put the bra on when she woke up because he was there.

“Pancakes,” Brantley said.

“Oh?” Emma asked.

“He let me touch the tool and flip a pancake,” Seth blurted out.

“Wow, thanks for ratting me out,” Brantley said.

“And he said not to tell you,” Seth said to Emma. “He wanted it to be a secret.”

“Wow…”

Emma laughed. “That’s okay, Seth.” Emma walked into the kitchen and kissed Seth’s head. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

Emma touched Seth’s forehead and he shook her away.

“I’m fine. Did you hear me? I touched the tool, Mommy.”

Brantley pointed to the massacred pancake and grinned. “He’s a good helper.”

There was a lingering moment between Brantley and Emma. They wanted to kiss good morning but definitely didn’t want to confuse Seth.

“Why are you looking at each other like that?” Seth asked.

Brantley laughed. “Let’s eat some pancakes. Sound good?”

After breakfast, Brantley and Emma lingered at the table while Seth went off to fight crime in the living room.

“Thanks for that,” Emma said. She reached across the table and touched Brantley’s hand.

“Last night or this morning?” Brantley asked with a wink.

Emma blushed. “Maybe both. I don’t get many mornings to sleep in a little.”

“It’s good. He woke me up. We were hanging and then he started throwing some serious questions at me. Had me rattled.”

“I heard. I think we need to figure this out.”

“I agree. I don’t know what to say though. Or how to say it. I don’t want him to get mad at you.”

“Me? He won’t get mad at me. He’ll ask me a million questions.”

“That’s what I don’t want,” Brantley said. “More stress on you or him. Dammit.”

“It’ll be okay. I, uh, haven’t really talked to you about something yet.”