Page 87 of Love is a Drum Beat
“Then, you are a father.” She lifted one brow. “At least according to the birth certificate.”
“No… I’m not…” He wasn’t Blake. He wasn’t the man who left Jo on her own to raise a baby she hadn’t been ready for. Instead, he was Dax, the man Jo entranced the first time he saw her when so much rebellious life lit in her eyes.
The nurse left, but not before whispering, “Good luck, young man.”
He could imagine the thoughts rolling through her mind. Maybe she thought she’d witnessed a man learning he’d fathered a child, but this was more than that.
More than protecting her from Blake Coleman.
More than Rockstars Anonymous.
More than loving Jo, pink hair and all.
This, right here, was about lovingthem.
“Dax?” Jo’s groggy tone had him smiling.
“I’m here.” His words were like a tether, stretching through the dark to let Jo know she wasn’t alone.
Jo rolled onto her side and reached to turn on the lamp near the bed. The light illuminated her pale face, her dark eyes. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I had to do something today, but I’m here now, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
She smiled at that. “You’re a natural.” Her expression warmed when she looked at Ali. The question sat on the tip of his tongue. Had she put him on the birth certificate or was the nurse misremembering?
But he didn’t voice his questions. Not now. Not when his eyes drank Jo in. “You’re beautiful.”
She snorted. “Dax, my hair is still half cut, a sheen of sweat covers every part of my body, and this hospital gown is doing me no favors.”
He shook his head, his lips twitching up into a smile. Only months ago, he hadn’t known the words to say to her. “Jo, no matter the clothes you wear, the hair on your head, you will never be more beautiful than right this moment.”
“Oh good. So, it’s all downhill from here? Less pressure.”
Dax chuckled. Sarcasm was her defense mechanism, but she didn’t need to play defense with him. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He stood, cradling a sleepy Ali in his arms. In two strides, he reached the bed and held out his arms. Jo took Ali, holding her against her chest.
“Dax?” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t leave again.” She scooted over and patted the empty spot on the narrow bed.
He climbed in beside her, kicking off his shoes. Jo leaned her head on his shoulder. “What did you mean about this moment?”
He rested an arm around her. “You, Jo Jackson, are a fighter.”
“I do like to fight with you.” Her sarcasm wouldn’t throw him off track.
“You use sarcasm to avoid uncomfortable moments. But you forget who I am, Jo. I’m the king of uncomfortable.”
She laughed. “You used to be. Not so much anymore.”
“You’re ridiculous about fifty percent of the time.”
“Only fifty percent?” She laughed.
“You are a rock star who chose to be a single mom.”
Jo shrugged. “Not like I had a choice on that one. But I can make it work.”
