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“I’m not fifteen anymore,” I said dryly, amused at her ferociousness.
“If you were fifteen, this would have already been handled.” She put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Trust me, Presley. I’ve been around the block a few times. Zeke has to man up and do the right thing. You have to swallow your fear and think about how much it impacted you, not having a father. Do you want that for Jeremy?”
I swallowed, a wave of emotion washing over me.
I didn’t even remember my dad, which made me sad. I absolutely didn’t want that for my son. I just wished the current situation wasn’t so complicated.
14
Zeke
Being home in L.A. had been nice at first, but it had been a few months now, and I was done. Done listening to my mother whine about how I’ve ruined her life. Done with the constant family that came to visit. Done with one-night stands and late-night parties. Just fucking done. Carter had gone back to rehab late last fall and six weeks turned into eight, which then turned into twelve. He’d gotten out, went straight to his dealer to get high, and turned around and went back in.
It was now April, and he was out. Sober and pissed off at the world. Mostly at me because I’d been the one who’d forced the intervention in the first place. We’d done a handful of festival gigs in South America while he’d been inside, and he was furious about it. We were heading into the studio to record a new album next week and he was annoyed about that too, since he said the studio was “boring” and after five months in rehab he wanted to go out on the road.
The last few days had been hell, but I hoped tonight would be better because we were playing a charity gig in Vegas with Nobody’s Fool and an up-and-coming band called Fighting Sunshine. It would be Carter’s first gig in a long time, so we figured it might be rough. It was only ten songs, so shorter than our usual sets, and I was down for anything that got me out of L.A.
I was a prickly son of a bitch sometimes, and never more so than when I got what I wanted, only to find out it wasn’t what I wanted at all. Going home had sucked. Not being on tour sucked. I was bored, lonely, and drinking too much. I hadn’t reinstated my mother’s credit cards, and we fought about it regularly. Dad couldn’t stand to listen to it, so he left the house early and didn’t come back until dark, leaving me to deal with her unless I had somewhere to be. It wasn’t like I could kick her out. So, it had been months of arguing and bickering and tears, with me almost giving in a dozen times. I’d stood my ground, though.
She’d not only broken my trust, but she’d never apologized. Never admitted she’d done anything wrong. And it hurt. Because I’d given my immediate family anything and everything they’d ever wanted up until last spring. Hell, they lived in my house free of charge. They didn’t even pay for food. And I was fine with that. I was just done being taken advantage of. Maybe I was being a hard ass—my sister thought so—but at this point, I would have sold my fucking soul for an apology. Was that too much to ask?
“Z!”
We’d just come off stage after our soundcheck, and I looked to see who was calling my name.
“Hey, Lexi.” I smiled at Nobody’s Fool’s lead singer. She was a stunning blond who had pipes like no other woman in rock and roll. She was also sweet and funny. All of us had lusted after her when we’d first brought them on tour, until it became abundantly clear she was wholeheartedly in love with her pro hockey player husband. But we were pretty good friends, so I was surprised at the dark look in her eyes as she approached me.
“I really expected better of you,” she said quietly.
“Excuse me?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
“I know the band has had a dozen or more paternity suits over the years, but this wasn’t some groupie. She was a nice girl. A virgin. You had to know, after what happened between you, she wouldn’t make something like that up.”
There had only been one virgin in my life in many, many years, so she could only be talking about one person. The same woman I’d jerked off thinking about for months. The same woman I’d written a motherfucking song for our new album about. The only one-night stand I’d never been able to forget.
But I still didn’t understand what she was talking about.
“Lex, I’ve had my mother yelling at me daily for the last few months, so I’m going to need you to check your tone and start at the beginning.”
She scowled. “Unlike the other women in your life, you don’t get to tell me what kind of tone to have. Especially when I know the story and what a dick you were.”
I blinked.
Lexi was genuinely pissed.
“I mean, even if you wanted nothing to do with the mom, what about the kid? It’s your son, Zeke. I’ve seen him. How could you just decide you weren’t going to acknowledge him without even getting a DNA test?”
I stared at her, trying to decide if she was messing with me. “Okay, I don’t care what tone you use, but what the fuck are you talking about?”
She moved closer to me, dropping her voice since we’d attracted the attention of the staff and crew that were milling around. “Don’t be coy. I’m talking about Presley and your night together in Minnesota last March. I’ve talked to her on the phone. I’ve seen pictures of the baby. Your son’s name is Jeremy, by the way.”
My son.
A weird feeling twisted through my gut.
I distinctly remembered that moment when I’d slid inside of her bare. The way it felt when her warm, wet pussy had tightened around me. Welcoming and hot. It had only been a few seconds before both of us realized what I’d done, and I’d quickly pulled out, but it was the only time I’d gone without a condom in years. Not since my last steady girlfriend, which was more than five years ago already. So, there was no chance I didn’t remember that moment.
I’d briefly considered the possibility of pregnancy, but Jesus. It hadn’t been more than two or three seconds. Literally. What were the chances?
