Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(41)

Last night he’d left Gemma and gone for a drive. He’d ended up on Highway 30, driving until he passed Bliss, and took a dirt road down to the river. Getting out of his truck, he’d sat on the hood and listened to the water as his mind raced.

She’d lied to him. She’d kept his son from him. Those were the facts, but the truth was, she’d done more than that. He’d always thought of Gemma as this bright spot in his life, and now it was tarnished. Even if she hadn’t told him ten years ago, she’d had plenty of chances over the last couple of days.

It’s not exactly casual dinner conversation.

He hadn’t appreciated his voice of reason defending her. Despite her obvious trust issues with him, he had never doubted her. Which made him the world’s biggest idiot.

Once he’d exercised his rage by chucking some rocks into the river, he’d driven back to the motel and spent all night thinking about what his next move would be. It was hard to imagine that he had a son who was already half grown, but there it was.

He could easily have called his lawyer and let the courts figure it out, but he didn’t hate Gemma, despite her betrayal. He needed to talk to her, to try to really understand why she’d felt like she couldn’t tell him about Charlie. Maybe they could salvage what they had started building, or at least try to be friends. At the very least, he was curious about the son they’d made.

He stood up when Gemma’s blue Subaru came to a stop in front of the house, brushing his sweating palms against his pants legs. For some reason, he had been nervous about coming over to talk to her.

I have nothing to be nervous about; she’s the one who’s been keeping secrets.

Gemma opened the door and got out, her eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses as she gasped. “Travis, what are you doing here?”

Her tone rubbed him the wrong way, like he’d been the one to drop a bombshell on her, and his intentions to be civil and calm flew out the window.

“Can’t a man spend his free time with his wife?” Travis asked sarcastically. Besides, considering how surly she’d been to him in Vegas when they’d first bumped into each other, she deserved a little snark.

The passenger door opened and a boy got out, his brown curly hair flopping over his forehead.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

Gemma’s face paled, and Travis couldn’t look away from Charlie. From his son.

“Who is this, Gemma?”

Gemma looked between them and shut her door. Walking to the other side, she whispered something to Charlie and shut his door, too.

With her arm around their son’s shoulders, she walked toward him, and Travis saw the worry in her eyes.

They stopped in front of him, and Travis got a good look at Charlie for the first time. The reason the kid had seemed so familiar hit him hard; Charlie looked just like the few pictures he had of himself growing up. He had his blue eyes, and although the shape of his chin was Gemma’s, he had his nose. At least he thought so.

The kid’s expression was nervous as he looked up at Travis, and he wanted to say something to put the kid at ease, but his own emotional turmoil was choking him. Never having been around kids much, he was scared shitless of this pint-sized version of himself and, at the same time, was trying to rein in his temper as Gemma pulled Charlie against herself protectively. Like he’d take his anger at her out on his own child.

My son. My child. It was overwhelming.

“Travis, this is Charlie,” Gemma said. Travis’s heart squeezed as Charlie shot him a shy smile.

His gaze shifted to Gemma, the woman he had once thought was amazingly kind and honest to a fault, and wondered how he could have been so blind. All night he had tossed and turned, had wanted to come here and talk, to really understand where she was coming from, but looking at his boy, he was furious with her.



OH GOD.

Gemma watched as Charlie held out his hand to Travis and said, “Hello, sir.”

Travis’s expression was thunderous, and he had every right to be angry. Still, she hoped he would understand the pleading look on her face and the shake of her head.

Not in front of Charlie.

Maybe it was because she knew how angry he was, but he seemed bigger and more threatening. Gemma fought the urge to put her son behind her, a ridiculous reaction her rational brain thought. Travis wouldn’t hurt Charlie.

Travis’s hard expression melted a bit as he knelt down. “Hey. Charlie, huh? That’s my middle name.”

“I know! Mom named me Charlie for you. My middle name is Michael for Uncle Mike.”

“Yeah? That makes a lot of sense, because your uncle and I were best friends in high school. Used to do everything together. Camp, fish—”

“We caught some trout a few weeks ago. Mom has them in the freezer. Do you want to see?”

Gemma held onto Charlie when he started to run off and said, “Why don’t you show your dad your fish another time? You’ve got to unpack, and I think your dad wants to talk to me.”

“But Mom . . .” Charlie started to argue, looking up at her with those lethal dark blue eyes. So much like his father’s.

It was Travis who saved her. “Actually, Charlie, I was thinking maybe we could spend the day together tomorrow. Get to know each other?”

“Yes! Mom, too?” Charlie asked eagerly.

Travis looked up at her, but his smile didn’t reach his frosty eyes. “Sure, she can come.”