But Jake, no matter how much he wanted it, was wary. He wasn’t fond of the idea of a stranger spending hoursin the evenings and nights with Lyra. He had basically turned down their offer when an idea occurred to me.I didn’t even think it over before it was spewing like vomit out of my mouth.I never let on that the second the words were out, I wanted to take them back.How could I when Jake accepted so quickly?He didn’t take a second to think it over either.
So here I am. Packing to go on tour with a rock bandto take care of a two-year-old and, hopefully, graduate with my degreein child development.I have a very strong feeling that someone with connections actually gotthatapproved. When I made the comment about the fieldwork, I was talking out of my ass.No professor would agree to give credit for traveling and working with one child, but I got the dean's approval.
I lean my head against the shoulder of the most important man in my life. The man who voluntarily gave up most of his twenties to raise me. “I want to do this, big brother. I want to do this for you and the band.”
“The band can wait,” henearly whispers. “You’re more important thanany of that. You know this.”
“I know I am, but I need this. It’s another step Ineed to take. I need to force myself to livemy lifeagain. And, if I’m completely honest, I’m a little afraid that I’ll just crawl into myself again if I’m left here alone.”
“Promise you’ll tell me if it gets to be too much?”
I scoff. “So you can cancel the tour and drag me home? Absolutely not.ButI do promise to call my therapist and work it out.”
Hechuckles with a shake of his head. “I’ll take what I can get.” He risesfrom the bed with a kiss to the top of my head. “Come on,brat. Our flight leaves soon.”
He walks out of the room,and I let out a breath. I can do this. There is no reason for this tobe a problem. I’ll be with my brother and his friends, all of whom arelikebrothers to me.Camilla and Josephine will be there for most of the tourtoo.
I can do this. It will be fine.
Jake
“Lyra, come here, please,”I find myself pleading with the love of my life and bane of my existence.“Let me brush your hair.”
“No, Daddy,” she standsten feet from me with her feet spread and hands on her hips. “I bwush it.”
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling with gritted teeth.It’s a never-ending ordeal with her. She has to be stubbornand independent. I guess I should be grateful she at least wants to wear clothes without a fight. I have a very unlikely source to thankthatI have one less battle to fight every day.
“We don’t have time, princess,” I try reasoning with her. Because, you know, two-year-olds totally care about time.
I really suck at this dad shit. I talk to my daughter more often than not like she’s an adult,only to get frustrated that she responds in much the same way.It is very seldom she cooperates without a fight or a bribe. She is willful, independent,stubborn, and smart beyond reason. All traits that I should be thrilled for her to have. But once in a while, I wish shewere a little less of those things because I already feel like I’m raising a teenager instead of a toddler. I’m not sure I’ll survive when she actually becomes a teenager.Pretty sure I will die.
Also pretty sure I don’t have a damn clue what I am doing.
She juts herbottom lip. A sure signa terrible two meltdown is coming, and I’m just about to cave when a knock sounds at my door.
I open it to find my mom standing on the other side. I should’ve known she wouldn’t letus go without coming by first, even though we just saw her last night.
“I was on my way to therapy,” she tells me before I can scold her for coming all this way.
“Mom, your physical therapist is in the opposite direction,” I tell her while kissing her cheek.
“Jakob Allen,” she says in herdon’t argue with mevoice, “I am not allowing my only son to traipse halfway across the world with my only grandchild without a goodbye. Judging by the veinsin your forehead, I’m right on time.”
“She wants to brush her own hair, but we’re running out of time,” I explain, the frustration evidentin my tone.
Mom steps around me with a pat onmy shoulder. “You go finish whatever you need to do while I finish getting Lyra ready. Maybe when you’re done, you can tell me what’s really bothering you.”
I fight to keep the emotion off my face. I’ve always hated how well my mom can read me. I’ve never been able to hide anything fromher. Absolutely nothing gets past her. Most of the time, that has been a good thing, but there have been occasions in my life I wished she couldn’t see me quite so well.
With my tail essentially tucked between my legs because mymommyhad to come save me from a tiny little girl, I go to my room to finish packing.
Mom is right. Lyra isn’t why I am so on edge. It’s this tour.Not the traveling part. Not the performingaspect. All of that is simple.
It’s the part where I let my dicktake over my brain and accepted Cara’s offer to be Lyra’s nanny. I guess that’s what she’ll be. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Iwill be around her every single day, nearly all day for weeks.
It was a knee-jerk reaction to seeing her with that guy. Her boyfriend, I guess.She says they’re just friends, but it seemed like more. Regardless, he is herex-boyfriend.“Arrghh.” I scrub my hand down my face and throw the shirt I just picked up across the room.
All these years,and I’m still hung up on the girl. Maybe we’d be together right now ifPeyton hadn’t shown up on my doorstep over three years ago. Perhapswe wouldn’t be. But I wouldn’t have these nagging, lingering feelings that I can’t do anything about.
