area. Their teacher said goodbye to them, both through speech and in sign language. Some spoke and signed back. Two only signed.
One of the teachers gave me a brief nod, and I showed her my driver’s license. I’d met her this morning when I dropped Logan off. Callie had already told her that I would be taking care of him for the next few days. Security was tighter here than it was on tour—for good reason.
Logan rushed over and grabbed my hand, then pulled me toward another man who was standing there with a little boy. The man had arrived soon after me but hadn’t joined the group of mothers I’d been with. He’d been talking on his phone.
“This is my friend, Ben,” Logan said. “This is his daddy.” There was both awe and wistfulness in his voice when he said the last word. My heart clenched.
The man held his hand out to me. “Hi, I’m Tony.”
I shook it. “Jared.”
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I’m helping Logan’s mom out. His regular caregiver is sick. Callie and I are old friends.”
“Daddy, can we go to the playground with Logan?” Ben asked.
“Sure, for a short time. If it’s okay with Logan’s da—er, friend.”
“That’s fine. Logan and I are free for a while longer.”
“We’re gonna see his band,” Logan said. “He plays guitar.”
“What kind of music do you play?” Tony asked as we helped the boys change into their outdoor shoes.
“Rock.”
“You do that full-time?” Curiosity marked his words, which lacked the judgmental tone I often heard when people found out what I did for a living…before they learned about the band’s success on the charts with our last album, that is.
“You mean play in a band?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Pretty much. We’re just waiting for our new album to be released, then we’re back on tour again.”
“Album? What’s your band’s name?”
I told him.
“I’ve heard of you guys, but I’m more into country.”
By “heard of,” he no doubt meant the controversies that had swirled around us on more than one occasion.
“So, you’re a stay-at-home dad?” I asked as we walked outside to the playground behind the school. The temperature had already warmed up, the sun bright in the sky.
“No, I have a computer programming company, but I work out of my home so that I can be there for my son more. I used to work for a multinational corporation, but with the long hours expected of me at the office, I was rarely home when Ben was awake.” At least he was home more than I would be if I had a child and was still touring.
The boys climbed onto the swings and asked us to push them. Callie had already warned me not to push Logan too high. The swings tended to make him nauseous.
“So what’s the deal with you and Callie?” Tony asked. “She seems nice.”
At something in his voice, a hint of jealousy sparked in me, and I turned to him, my attention no longer on Logan. But before I could figure out what he was really asking, Logan and the swing slammed against my leg. I fell backward, and my ass landed hard on the gravel.
Without missing a beat, I replied, “She is nice,” and pushed myself up, my pride more bruised than my backside.
Tony and I continued talking while the boys played. I was so used to talking to my bandmates, fans, groupies, media, and people from the record label that it felt weird talking to someone who had nothing to do with the music industry. We chatted about all kinds of things, but mostly about the boys. Tony told me all the stuff he and Ben did together, and that made me think about my own father—and what Logan was missing out on because of Callie’s fear of him getting hurt.
But despite his original question about Callie, he didn’t seem interested in her the same way that I was. Relief extinguished the jealousy.
Tony and Ben eventually had to go home.
“How ’bout we go visit your mom and get some lunch?” I said to Logan on the way to my car.
He jumped up and down like
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