She bobs her head up and down, grabbing my hand to lead me into Wyatt’s living room. Knocking a couple of PlayStation 3 controllers aside, she motions for me to sit beside of her on the tan leather couch. Since I’ve never been able to say no to Brenna, I comply. “So where all did you go?” she demands.
“New Orleans.”
“Lots of good food?”
“Are you kidding? Some of the best.” I catch Wyatt’s blue eyes as he eases down across from us on the matching loveseat. Judging by his guarded look, his daughter has no idea he was even with me, and I give him a stiff nod. “Your dad’ll have to take you there some day.”
She looks at him expectantly, and he gives her a half-hearted grin. Returning her attention to me she proudly declares, “Mom’s planning on taking me to Orlando this summer while Dad’s on tour.”
“You going to ride the teacups until you get sick?” I tease.
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m too old for that. I do get to go and see Hog—”
“Baby,” Wyatt says softly, cutting Brenna off. She lifts her eyebrows impatiently, waiting for him to continue. Wearing that tender smile he’s always reserved exclusively for her, he comes across the room to kneel down in front of us. “Me and Kylie need to talk right now. Can you go in your room for a little?”
She presses her small lips together and starts to shake her head no. Then, she reconsiders, and a slow grin that looks just like his builds on her face. “Pizza for dinner? And then you help me beat that level in my game?”
He groans, moving his head from side to side as he contemplates her offer. “Deal,” he says, surprising Brenna and me both. He’s never been a fan of pizza or video games. “Give me twenty minutes, okay?”
Wearing a look of sheer satisfaction, she leaves the room, and I watch her disappear down the hallway until she closes the door to her bedroom. I rub the pad of my thumb over the first blackbird tattoo. I’d gotten it after Wyatt confessed to getting a one-night-stand pregnant. He met her a few months after we first made love in that hotel in Livingston, and even though we weren’t a couple and had agreed that we weren’t seeking a relationship, finding out that he had a baby on the way stung.
So much that I hadn’t spoken to him for months.
I didn’t actually meet her until a couple of months after he came looking for me once I divorced Brad. Seeing Brenna made me instantly regret that first tattoo. Brenna wasn’t one of the letdowns over the last several years. She was a piece of him that I’ve always loved fiercely.
“She’s an amazing kid,” I murmur, rubbing my hand across my chest.
He slides down beside of me on the couch, and I drop my gaze to his hands. They’re in his lap, clenched, and I know that he’s thinking about what I told him about the pregnancy scare a couple weeks ago. “I’m not sure what to say, Ky.”
I change the subject, even before he has a chance to bring it up. “Courtney dropping her off for the night?” I ask, referring to Brenna’s mother.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Courtney’s taking a vacation with a new boyfriend. She’ll be back in a few weeks.”
I frown because I know that the obvious irritation in his voice doesn’t stem from jealousy or not wanting to take care of Brenna—he adores that kid—but from how his own mother left him. “I’m glad I got to see her. I’ve missed her.”
“She’s missed you.” He lifts his hands, dragging them through his blonde hair. “Fuck, I miss you, Ky.”
“It’s only been eleven days.” But my voice still shakes.
“Not when I spent them thinking you were gone, Kylie. That wasn’t eleven days, that was f**king agony.”
I stand, grinding my hands together as I pace in front of the big screen TV. “I had no plan to come here, McCrae. I was more than done with you because you lied to me, and then—” My chest tightens up, and I take a deep breath, staring at his bare feet as he gets up and comes to me.
He touches my face, and I shiver as he tilts my chin up. “So what changed?”
“I checked my home voicemail, and there’s message after message from you. You said things that I’ve only imagined you saying.”
“And so you came here?”
I laugh, but it sounds more like a hysterical gasp. “No. I re-arranged my apartment. Wrote a bunch of letters to Sinjin. Played my guitar. Finally, my mother called—” He stops me from continuing, pressing his rough thumbs to my lips as the rest of his fingers massage the sides of my face.
“Thought you forgot how to play,” he says in a low voice.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never forget.”
He releases a deep exhale, crushing me to his chest. “Everything that I said in those messages? I meant every goddamn word. For you and that kid in there”—he points in the direction of Brenna’s bedroom—“I’d do anything. Give up the music and the lifestyle if you asked me to.”
I shake my head fiercely, and I feel a bitter ache in my chest. “I would never ask you to do that. You know that, don’t you? I would never make you choose between me and what you love.”
“You’re what I love, Ky.” Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he continues, "I don’t know what you want from this anymore, but I know what I need. That’s you. And don’t try to bullshit me into thinking you don’t need me, too. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”