Chapter 32
DAWSON
FRIDAY—THE RECORDING STUDIO
“Now remember, don’t—"
“Dad, I know.” Jaxon sighed. “I’m not a baby anymore. I won’t run through the studio or break their instruments.”
I glanced at my son as he sat beside me. I’d managed to snag the last remaining parking spot at Wayward Lane’s recording studio in downtown Nashville.
“You gotta chill out,” Jaxon continued, unbuckling his seat belt.
“Chill out?” I repeated.
If this was Jaxon at eight going on nine, the teenage years were going to be brutal.
“Yeah. You’re so nervous, like when you drink too much coffee. You changed clothes three times, and we’re already ten minutes late. And it’s weird because you already know the band, not me, so why are you anxious?”
I listened to my son’s reasoning and stifled a laugh.
I wasn’t on shift today, and the studio tour was purely a personal visit.
A very personal visit.
And yeah, it was true. I was nervous about seeing Iain.
Was he still all in, or had he changed his mind about us?
I was pretty sure that, given the massive number of texts and late-night calls between us, Iain was feeling the same as me.
I missed him something crazy, and I didn’t expect to feel so on edge—like if I didn’t touch him soon, I was going to go out of my mind.
So, yeah, I spent extra time getting ready, trying to look my best in new jeans, a dark grey button-down, and a beard clip. Not to mention I had my fauxhawk trimmed.
I wasn’t the only nervous one, but my son was better at hiding it.
Jaxon had also carefully selected his outfit—black jeans, a matching T-shirt, and his down jacket. Oh, and his new neon orange running shoes.
My kid had more street style than me; that I knew for sure.
I reached my hand out to rub his bristly red hair and smiled.
“I’m not on duty, so it feels kind of strange,” I told him. “But I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
A lot was riding on today. If Jaxon’s impression of Iain wasn’t positive, I, well, I didn’t want to think about that. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath before I exited the truck.
Quinn was at the front door, waving us in, and I knew Lennie was already inside. He’d texted me as I was en route. By Regan’s order, he was still at Iain’s house, trading shifts with Quinn and Valen.
Everything with Iain’s stalker had been eerily quiet since we got back to town, but Regan and I weren’t convinced it was over. Greg thought it was done with. But until the investigator gave us some answers about who might be behind the messages, I wouldn’t be letting my guard down.
My sixth sense told me we were as secure as possible, but that didn’t prevent me from looking around. I was always aware of my surroundings.
I rounded the hood of the truck and placed my hand on Jaxon’s shoulders, guiding him to the door.
“Jaxon,” I squeezed his shoulder, “you remember Quinn?”
Jaxon waved. “Hey, Quinn!”
“Nice to see you again, Jax. Cool shoes,” Quinn replied.
The former cop-turned-bodyguard was usually a wall of ice, so seeing him smile was strange.
“Thanks. I like your new tattoo. Did it hurt?”
“This one?” Quinn replied as he pointed to the Celtic knot on his left hand. “Barely a pinch.”
“Are you sure? My friend Casey’s dad got a tattoo on his wrist and said he was never getting another one ever again.”
Quinn shrugged. “I’m used to it. I got a lot of them. So, is this your first time meeting the band?”
“Yes! And Dad’s nervous. He’s been pacing all morning.”
Shit.
“He’s joking. Not nervous,” I said to Quinn, who was giving me a confused look. “Are they all here?”
“Yup, head on back. Have fun.”
We slipped past Quinn and down the hallway. The recording studio was at the back of the building.
When we reached the end of the hallway, I knocked on the heavy wood door.
Bibi answered with a big smile. “How y’all doing?”
“We’re great, Bibi. I’d like you to meet my son, Jaxon.”
“Well, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person, Jaxon. I’m Brodie’s assistant,” she explained. “Love your outfit! You excited to meet the guys?”
“Thanks, Bibi, and yeah, I’m so excited! But Dad’s nervous.”
Bibi gave me a knowing smirk.
“Jax—”
“Sorry, Dad.”
I could tell from his grin he wasn’t sorry at all.
“Come on in. The guys are working on a new piece and have their headphones on, so we’ll stand in the editing booth for now, and watch.”
Bibi led the way as we headed down another narrow hallway and turned left.
My heart was beating so loud at this point you could’ve recorded it for the drumbeat on one of the band’s songs.
Bibi let us into the booth, where Ace and the other engineers and producers sat. The wall of glass that separated us from the band allowed us to see the entire studio.
As Bibi mentioned, the guys were all sitting in a circle, playing a new piece. It sounded a lot like the tune Iain had been strumming that night in Paris.
Faise was at his drum kit, facing us with Ronin and Brodie on either side, and Iain had his back to us, guitar in hand. Iain’s right foot was tapping out a rhythm. Whether in time with the song or his usual nervous tell, I couldn’t decipher.
Iain’s hair was tied up in that messy bun that I loved, and he wore jeans, cowboy boots, and a blue T-shirt. As always, the man had all my attention.
Brodie looked over and spotted us, then motioned to the rest of the guys to stop playing. When Iain turned around, I saw both delight and hesitation in his expression. He looked as nervous as I was, and knowing that, I calmed—a little.
Iain placed his guitar on the stand, slid his headphones around his neck, and quickly got up, opening the door to let us into their session room.
“You guys are finally here,” Iain exclaimed, almost breathless. “Come on in.”
I wanted to lean over and kiss him so badly, but given our audience, our reunion would have to wait. With my back to the booth, though, I felt bolder than usual and held Iain’s gaze for much longer than was polite. His answering grin told me he knew exactly what I was feeling.
Iain cleared his throat and held out his hand to Jaxon. “How are you, Jaxon? It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”
Jaxon shook his hand slowly, staring up at Iain like he was seeing Santa Claus for the first time. “I can’t believe I’m meeting Iain Holloway. Can I call you Iain?”
“Of course.”
My heart warmed, and I squeezed Jaxon’s shoulders.
“Are you guys recording a new song?” Jaxon asked him.
“We’re not recording it yet; we’re still working on the hook,” Iain replied.
“Is that the one you started in Paris?” I asked.
Iain bit his lip and nodded. “Come on in, Jaxon, and meet everyone.”
Iain introduced Jaxon to Brodie, Faise, and Ronin, and then my son got to walk around the room and admire their instrument setup.
“Cool kicks, Jaxon; I have ones just like those but in green. Think maybe we could trade?” Brodie asked with a smile.
“Thanks, but that wouldn’t be fair. There’s no way your big feet could fit into my shoes.”
Everyone laughed at Jaxon’s blunt statement, and I mouthed “sorry” to Brodie. He just laughed it off.
“But maybe you could autograph them for me?” Jaxon added with a grin.
“You got it.”
Brodie motioned for Jaxon to pass over his shoes. All four guys signed them, two signatures on each shoe, and Jaxon was beaming with pride when he put them back on his feet.
“These are so cool! Wait until I show everyone at school!”
I pulled out my phone. “Is it okay if I take some pictures? We wouldn’t post anywhere, obviously.”
Jaxon looked excitedly at the guys, and they nodded. I took several pics of Jaxon’s signed shoes and then him with the band. His smile was so big and beaming that my chest tightened.
“Jaxon, you want to play guitar with me?” Iain asked.
My son nodded and happily took a seat beside his idol, staring up at him and peppering him with question after question. Iain was more patient than I had imagined, getting up to grab one of his prized guitars lined up on the periphery of the room and placing it on Jaxon’s lap.
“You told me you play piano, but have you ever played guitar?” Iain asked.
“At my last lesson, my teacher showed me a few chords on her acoustic. But that’s all I know.”
Iain crouched down in front of Jaxon and guided his hands so he was holding the instrument correctly. They began to talk about chords, E, A, D, etc., and I was lost.
My son, however, was absorbing every word that came out of Iain’s mouth, nodding and asking more questions.
Iain sat down beside him again, picked up the guitar he’d been playing earlier and they started playing. Or, Iain played, and Jaxon watched, mesmerized.
When Iain looked over at me again, I startled. The smile he gave me should have been illegal.
A strange lump formed in my throat as I watched the two of them—the son I loved with everything in my heart and the man who had somehow found a way in there, too.
I was so overwhelmed that I turned away and caught Brodie staring at me, his telltale smirk in place. But he didn’t say anything snarky. In fact, quite the opposite.
“It’s crazy but true,” Brodie leaned in to whisper to me.
“What is?”
“Every rockstar has their day.”
I hoped that Brodie was right.
Because I wanted to be Iain’s.
And I sure as fuck wanted Iain to be mine.