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There was something else I needed to tell her—wanted to tell her. “You know the tattoo on my chest?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the first bar of music we ever wrote together.”
Her face lit up. “That’s so special. You’ll always have him with you.”
It meant the world to me. “Yeah. Are you ready?”
“Go spend time with Dylan. I’ll be there in a bit. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”
This woman was my everything. She got me in ways I didn’t realize. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
I got out of the car with the bag and scrubbed a hand down my face. Here goes nothing. Dylan’s grave stood on top of a hill. Two small headstones were next to him for the two babies Knoah had lost. I sat down and poured two drinks. Coke and bourbon had been our drink of choice when we went out.
I took a drink before I said, “Miss you, buddy. Miss you more than I ever fucking imagined.” I took another deep breath. Man, this never got easy. Every year, it was like something heavy on my chest. “I kept my promise and watched after your girl. Knoah’s happy—she’s found a good man. He loves her like you’d want her to be loved. I know she’s been here a few times, asking you to watch after her other baby.”
My throat grew a little tight. “The band is still at the top. We’ve been on tour across America. Man, it’s all we dreamed of and more. I wish you were here. You know the band was my life during a very dark time with my mom. I wish I’d told you everything. You knew some, but not the terrible.”
I chuckled. “You were right, you know. When I met the right girl, everything changed. And I’m going to be a dad. We’re having a boy. I’m scared, Dylan. Really fucking scared I’m going to hurt Sawyer like my dad hurt me. But I can’t imagine my life without her. I want a life together. I haven’t told her this, but I love her.”
I lifted my glass toward the headstone. “Cheers, Dylan. You saved my life in more ways than you’ll ever know.”
I sat in silence for a few minutes, reflecting on times past. It was a hell of a time. The late nights spent writing music, sleeping in our car in a pit stop because we were low on funds, and simply being best friends.
I waved Sawyer up. She walked up the hill and kneeled beside me. I would be glad when I could see her stomach more. It was a reminder that things weren’t so bad.
“This is Sawyer, the mother of my son.”
Her eyes got teary, and she tucked her dark hair behind her ear before speaking softly. “Knoah’s told me a lot about you. I would have liked to have met you.” She touched her stomach. “Maybe we could name our baby boy Dylan.”
I froze and stared at her face. It was the perfect name. More perfect than she could have ever imagined. It would be the biggest honor I could have given the man who’d helped me from being too jaded at the world to love Sawyer. “You mean it?”
“Yes. I think it’s a sign that we found out we were having a boy on Dylan’s birthday. It’s a way for us to never forget him.”
Yes, I loved this woman with my whole fucking heart.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sawyer
Hand in hand, we walked into the magazine’s office in Chicago. The next concert was the following day, followed by interview after interview. It was nonstop. Being in Chicago had worked out well because Kurt’s favorite photographer had an office there. Before this, the plan had been for him to meet us on the road. We hadn’t found a studio we were satisfied with.
We came in through the back door. The hallway was darker and more dismal than I would have expected for a magazine office. A door opened into another room, and it was like we’d stepped into another world. The wood floors were dark and warm, the walls a soft blue-gray, and I liked it better than dismal white and linoleum tiles.
As the associate who’d met us at the door walked us in, my heavy coat hid baby Dylan. We didn’t see another soul other than the security team. Somehow, Kurt and I had managed to keep this under wraps. It was nothing short of a miracle considering how the two of us combined created the hot mess express.
But by the next Monday, when the article was published, everything would change. The magazine was under a nearly impossible deadline, but they would do it because it was a Kurt Hendrix scoop, and he never did this.
I fidgeted as I looked around the room. Due to how my shirt fit, I had to keep my coat on until the interviewer arrived. We decided to let baby Dylan do the announcing for us since we sucked so bad at it. The last thing we needed was Kurt to talk about his super sperm and me to blurt out that he’d knocked me up. None of that was anything you wanted printed for millions to see.
Millions.
Holy shit.
Just the thought of how many people would read this had my palms sweating.
