Page 9 of Sweet Obsession
“Now don’t get carried away.” Biting back her own laughter, Rachel raised an open palmed hand to him. “You weren’t missedthatmuch.”
Oh how he’d missed being part of this big raucous family. In some ways, the band and crew were his family now, but it was never anything close to this family. Heaving a sigh, he lifted his gaze to catch Rachel’s eye. “I hope y’all understand how verysorry I am that I missed your dad’s funeral. If it had been at all humanly possible, I would have been here.”
Every Sweet in the room gave a short nod.
“We know.” Preston tried for a smile.
“So tell me,” he shifted in his seat, doing his best to lighten the mood, “who spiked the water?”
“Excuse me?” Jillian’s eyes rounded in confusion. Pretty eyes.
“All these weddings in just a few months. Was it Miss Alice? Love potion number nine?”
“Ha.” Jillian’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Only a musician would come up with that one.”
He couldn’t help but grin. She appeared to be the only one in the room who got the joke of the old hit from the 1960s. There also weren’t the words to express how deeply he regretted missing so many milestones in his friends’ lives. Sadly, not till this very minute did he realize just how cavernous that regret was.
“Well…” Jillian was the one to clear her throat, but somehow he got the impression that pretty much everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. For just a flash of a second, he wondered if maybe someonehadconcocted a love potion. What was he missing?
“So,” dropping his booted heel to the floor, Preston leaned forward, “what’s the plan now with your grandmother? Are you really going to stay for as long as it takes to get a diagnosis?”
That was what he’d said, and whether his manager and record label liked it or not, that was his plan. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I intend to do, though I can’t very well hide out here forever.”
Jillian stood and crossed the room, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I speak for all of us when I say you can hide out here as long as you want.”
If he hadn’t been so startled by the heat emanating from her fingertips, he would have said a heartfelt thank you. As it was he could barely manage a nod.
“At least your parents have agreed to cooperate with getting your grandmother to see a doctor.” Jillian took a seat beside him. “That can go a long way.”
“Sadly, I’ve dealt with families who have loved ones afflicted with dementia.” Rachel shook her head. “The ones closest to the family member are often the hardest to convince that something is off. That their memory lapses aren’t simply a factor of aging. Not until things start going seriously south.”
“How seriously south?” It hadn’t occurred to Blake that being a social worker, Rachel might know something about dementia.
“Anything from wandering out the door and not remembering how to come home, or thinking nine in the morning is nine at night.”
Jillian gasped, her delicate fingers rising to cover her open mouth. This was exactly what had happened to his grandmother. She’d thought four in the morning was four in the afternoon.
Blake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s all so frustrating.”
A little more conversation continued about his intentions for calling doctors, starting with Sarah Sue’s dad. Preston’s wife convinced him that having her father as an advocate would be a big help, and having known Doc Conroy all his life, Blake knew she was right. Quickly the conversation dwindled, filled now with yawns and stretching, Jess already having taken her and Carson’s son to bed. One by one, couples began to wish each other goodnight. Preston and Sarah Sue headed off to their bunkhouse, then Garret muttered a goodnight to everyone as he slipped out the back door, presumably to the blue cottage.
Finally, only Jillian remained. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
Jillian stopped at the door across from the master bedroom. Kade’s old room. The one where he and his best friend had spent countless hours plotting teenage mischief.
She gestured inside. “Mom set out fresh towels for you on the bed.” Her gaze met his, and for a split second, the air between them thickened. The easy, friendly smile she’d been wearing all evening faltered, replaced by something unreadable, a flicker of vulnerability. He had to blink and take a step back. This strong, beautiful woman, willing to take on would be burglars, now partnering to solve all his problems and keep him comfortable. Who knew that little Jillian with her wide-eyed youthful wonder would turn out to be so…perfect?
Chapter Six
“Where the hell are you?” That would be the third time in as many hours that Blake’s manager sent him a text. The man had tried calling once or twice yesterday, and again today. Apparently now he’d opted to blow up Blake’s phone. Only he wasn’t ready to tell Phil where he was or why he was here. Not yet. That was just one thing he had to work out. If taking care of his grandmother meant canceling the upcoming European tour, he didn’t want to think of the media firestorm that would create—not to mention the hit it would mean to his band members and road crew’s wallet.
Tired of staring at the ceiling of Kade’s old room, finding faces and figures in the popcorn texture, sitting up made more sense than continuing to toss and turn. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 2:47 AM, mocking his restlessness.
What he needed was a cold drink, his guitar, and to sit on the back porch like he would when he and Kade were kids. The best music always came to him on the Sweet Ranch, maybe he’d find the peace he needed there as well.
Padding barefoot down the familiar staircase, a sliver of light caught his attention. Charlie Sweet’s office door stood slightly ajar, warm lamplight spilling into the hallway. Blake hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to intrude, but something aboutthe late hour and the solitary light tugged at his curiosity. He approached quietly and peered through the crack.
Hunched over the desk, Preston stared at the computer screen. Stacks of papers were scattered around him, some piled higher than others. Even from the doorway, Blake could see the tension in his friend’s shoulders. Part of him thought it prudent to step back and leave the man to his work, another part of him considered the late hour and the deep frown etched between Preston’s brows. Friends didn’t abandon friends.
