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“You know you should—and you should also tell him how you feel about him, Lena. If you’ve fallen for him, he should know.”
“Why?” I asked. “I don’t see why it matters. If he felt the same way about me, he would’ve told me. He’s damaged from his past, and I don’t think he wants something serious. I don’t think he wants a kid, either.”
“Well, he can at least help pay for things,” Mom said, shrugging. “But I don’t know, sometimes men are surprising.”
I let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the desk. “I don’t want him to be with me or something just because I’m pregnant.”
“You don’t have to be with him. I just meant…he might be more involved with the baby. A father is a good thing. He might straighten up.”
“I know you’re right, but I haven’t talked to him since the fight. I left. I called the deal off.”
“I know, but it hasn’t been all that long, honey…and he deserves to know.”
I knew she was right, but the fear of telling Jackson—and making him angry—was still there in the back of my mind. The last thing he wanted was a relationship. What would he think about having a child? With me, of all people.
Ugh.
“I get to be a grandma,” Mom chirped, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t be upset about that.”
I laughed, but before I could say anything, my phone went off, ringing against my desk. I reached for it, not recognizing the New York number. Shrugging, I declined it.
But then they called again.
And again.
“Weird,” I muttered as I swooped it up, finally answering—and ignoring my mom’s curious face. “Hello?”
“Is this Lena Harris?” a woman’s voice asked over the phone.
“Um…yeah? Who is this?”
“This is Rachel Dyon with the New York City hospital. I see that you’re listed as the emergency contact for Jackson Whiss. There’s been an accident.”
40
JACKSON
“Imissed you so much,” Lena whispered, her lips brushing against my earlobe.
“I missed you too,” I said to her, pulling her tighter into my arms. “Don’t ever go again. Please. Stay with me.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around me, the scent of her filling my nostrils. “No more drinking and getting crazy on stage.”
“No more,” I repeated, relieved to have some reason to stop being an idiot. I was losing my mind, and the more I partied, the more I just fucking missed her.
But she was here now.
No more being alone…
My eyes fluttered open, the chirp of the heart monitor playing like a metronome beside the hospital bed. My head pounded in rhythm with it, and as I inhaled the stale hospital room air, I realized I was alone. Snippets of Lena kept visiting me in my dreams, and now that I’d been on tour, acting wilder than ever…
I knew it was all just a fucking attempt to drink the real feelings away.
Well, now I knew. It had taken a drunken plunge from the stage and being here, in a hospital, to make me understand that I was never going to outrun the feelings I had for Lena. Maybe I’d fallen in love with her. Maybe I wished that our relationship was real. Maybe I wished that she would’ve just fucking answered the phone so I could hear her voice.
“You look better today.” Tyson’s voice caught my attention, and I glanced to my right. I hadn’t realized he was sitting on the couch by the window, overlooking the city. “You remember what happened yet?”
“I fell off the stage?” I offered up, my mind replaying my loss of balance in the middle of a song.
