“I’ve heard this before,” she whispered, tingles going over her spine. She’d heard part of it one night when she’d been at the Dancing Pony. The night Leah had invited her out. The same night she’d met Kendry and Jared.
“I write all of our songs. I wrote that song that very night. Couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I tapped the lyrics out on my smartphone note-taking app while you slept. I wrote several more songs in the coming days. Our current hits were all inspired by you, honey.”
True smiled at her as he sang and played softly, emotion vibrating in the soft huskiness of his baritone.
She remembered light caresses at her nape and her shoulder as he’d sung her to sleep. She closed her eyes on the tears and the crushing pain in her heart. She licked her lips and tasted tears. This was all so confusing.
How did this happen? What have I done?
He stopped playing and reached out a hand to her. “Honey, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I wish I’d woken you up and told you everything. I don’t know if it would’ve made a difference back then. I talked Paul and Noble into swinging through Divine, just on the off chance… Our next stop was the Dancing Pony. I thought maybe if I stopped back at the same places, that if it was meant to work out, I’d find you.”
She knew that her other friends who were in relationships with more than one man had overcome obstacles and preconceived notions about how love worked but somehow doubted that any of them had ever been in the same quandary she was in.
“I hate to say it but Paul was right. We do have a travel schedule to adhere to. I have a million questions and there’s so much left to say. Would it be possible for you to come with us to Houston? We have a show tomorrow night. I’d provide you with whatever you need for the duration. Please?” His dark gaze was exactly as she’d remembered it all these months.
“Oh, True…”
Chapter Sixteen
Jared accepted everything Kendry told him. It didn’t make a difference how he felt about her…or Whit. Like a pathetic sap, he watched the interplay of their shadows through the tinted glass, thankful for the setting sun on the other side of the bus that defined the profiles of the two inside as they talked.
A burning ache grew in the center of Jared’s chest as he realized Truehart Strong was handling his guitar. True was billed as the sweet angelic one while his brother was promoted as the impulsive sensualist. And the guy could sing. Perfect. The Neanderthal inside him didn’t like that another man was obviously wooing his woman.
“Jared, it won’t do any good to watch them. When she’s done, she’ll get off and we’ll talk.”
“If she gets off.”
Kendry moved into his line of sight and shook his head at him. “You know her better than that.”
Jared ignored him and kept watch anyway. She lifted the baby to her shoulder, going through the motions of burping him, and he growled. She’d had to feed the baby in front of True. Worse than a stranger. An absentee father, who obviously, by the way he looked at her, didn’t want to be absentee. It was clear he had feelings for her.
Jared looked down at his boots, remorse hopping onto his back along with the rest of the chaotic emotions warring for control. Kendry was right. Presley Ann loved them.
He watched as the baby was transferred to True’s arms. Presley Ann tilted her head down and he could see her lips moving before she brought her hand up to her cheek. Was she crying? The way her shoulders jerked told him that she was.
They talked for what seemed like an eternity. An emotion verging on panic made his chest feel like it was cracking open as the singer leaned forward, reaching out to her with his free hand and tilted her forehead against his as he cupped the back of her head. Her arm went around his shoulder.
“Shit,” Kendry whispered as he stood next to Jared watching, but showing no other sign of the pain his words held. “Kitten, what are you doing?”
A few minutes later, they both rose and he lost sight of them as the sunset had faded. His gut churned as he worried about what they were doing but relief flooded him as the tour bus’s door opened with a soft swish.
Presley Ann was smiling when she looked at them as she came down the steps, but her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were damp, her hand clasped firmly in True’s as he guided her down. Whit was nestled in the crook of his arm, sound asleep. Jared warred with the urge to approach him and take the baby from him. Whit was True’s son and he did have a right, but that didn’t mean Jared had to like it.
* * * *
Presley Ann felt as though she might float up off the ground, not because a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, but because she’d received an answer to prayer. Whit’s father knew of his existence. Better still, he was happy to know of his existence.