Page 3 of Fool Me Twice

Stepping back out of his reach, she huffed out a breath. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice he was here if he hid in the shadows, like the invisible man?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Just like he’s done for most of your life? Peter Cook, the great philanthropist and all-round do-gooder who didn’t even acknowledge your existence or admit you were his son until you’d taken two DNA tests, because obviously a ninety-nine-point-nine-nine per cent match from the first test just wasn’t good enough to convince him of your parentage.” She let out a snort and stared pointedly at Peter. “And let’s not forget about that NDA his legal team made you sign, forbidding you from telling anyone who your father was. Need I go on?” she asked, addressing no one in particular. “Do I also need to mention that contract they made you sign, relinquishing any claim on his estate? Hmm?”

“Look, Mum, I’ve told you a million times.” Jaxon threw his hands up in the air. “That was Shari and her lawyer, not Dad. He didn’t find out that she’d done all those things until afterwards.”

Dad. Evie winced at how easily the endearment rolled off her son’s tongue. “And you believe that, do you?” Jaxon might have been taken in by all that bullshit, but she wasn’t, not for one minute.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I do.”

Peter bowed his head, his toes poking at some imaginary spot on the ground. He hadn’t said a word, just stood there silently while Jaxon made excuses and defended him, making her sound like the bad guy.

“Fine.” Her shoulders slumped. “He can stay.” It wasn’t like she had to talk to him, and why should he get away with looking like the injured party? She could be magnanimous, if only to even up the score.

“Thanks, Mum.” Jaxon crushed her to him, kissing her cheek. “You’re the best,” he whispered against her ear.

Peter released a grateful sigh as he headed up the driveway towards the main road. Despite Evie’s grudging agreement that he could stay, he’d still felt awkward. This was her night, and he didn’t want to spoil it for her. Jaxon should be celebrating his mother’s birthday with her, spending time with his wife and friends before heading off on his tour, not checking in on his dad every five minutes, like an over anxious parent hovering over their friendless child at the big boy’s party.

He wasn’t an idiot – he’d heard the muffled whispers behind gossipy hands, seen the sideward glances people threw his way. He knew exactly what they were saying about him, and he’d had to get out of there.

Peter Cook, the big rock star who’d got a local girl pregnant, then dumped her before hightailing it back to his wife and privileged life. Abandoning her on the other side of the world, pregnant and alone.

And despite what Evie had said, he hadn’t bought her acceptance for a moment. She didn’t want him there any more than he wanted to be there. He didn’t belong there; she knew it and he knew it, so on the pretext of needing to make a phone call, he’d slipped out the side door and almost sprinted up the driveway before Jaxon or Anya came looking for him.

Peter had never been one for confrontation or drawing attention to himself. Even when he’d been in Crimzon Steel, the only way he could get through a set was to remove his contacts before going onstage, blurring everything and everyone into a giant sound bubble bouncing on the horizon.

Unlike Bogey or Oz, he’d never craved adoration, never fought for centre stage during promotional shoots or events; he’d just wanted to blend into the background. If it hadn’t been for his best friend, Mac, he’d have accepted one of the university places he’d been offered and settled into a normal job and lived a normal life, but Mac had had dreams big enough for both of them.

Peter turned left at the top of the drive and followed the road, sure it was the way back to Jaxon’s house. Pausing at the crossroads, he looked around for something familiar, anything that would help him get his bearings, then he recognised a pink cottage on the opposite corner. It looked like most of the other chocolate-box dwellings dotted around the town, except for the weird artwork filling the front garden.

If only he’d known the truth about Jaxon, he thought, hurrying past the two gargoyles guarding the entrance, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the maniacal twins.

Things would have been different.

Okay, so he wouldn’t have turned up on a big white horse, proposing marriage, but he’d have been there for his son, provided for him.

Evie had denied him the one thing money hadn’t been able to buy. She’d robbed him of his only chance to be a father, a proper father. And he would have been one. He swatted at an overhanging branch impatiently.

A million times, he’d imagined all the fatherly things he’d do when he and his wife, Cathy, had kids. He’d teach them to swim, ride a bike, to drive, all the things his father had done with him.

But it had just never happened for them.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed the lump in his throat, memories of all the failed IVF rounds and negative pregnancy tests flashing through his mind. It wasn’t meant to be, fatherhood. Not for him, anyway. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

If only he’d known the truth. He clenched his jaw tightly, grinding down on his back teeth.

If only he’d know about Jaxon.

Chapter two

With no phone signal and no idea where he was or how he’d got there, Peter soon regretted his decision to walk home. In the couple of weeks he’d been staying with his son, he’d only left the house when Morwenna, Jaxon’s cleaner, had dropped him off at the beach on her way into town, before picking him up on her way back.

Sometimes he ran the length of the beach; sometimes he walked it. Either way, he usually spent most of the time beating himself up over how stupid he’d been to get involved with Shari.

Crimzon Steel and Shari went way back. She’d been one of the assistants employed by their manager Soly, back in the day, and always seemed to be hanging around at events and backstage during gigs. Not that he’d had much to do with her back then. Unlike the other guys, he’d had a wife to go home to.

Mac had always said she was nuts, but he could be a narky sod and it didn’t take much to set him off, so Peter had taken his words with a pinch of salt.

Squinting against the brightness of his phone flashlight, Peter held it up, scanning the area for any markers or hints as to where he was. He cursed his stupidity. He’d never been that way before, what exactly was he expecting to see? But he had to do something to distract himself from the reality of his situation.

He ducked beneath the leafy limbs of a tree that bent almost double over a fence running alongside the dirt road, certain he’d passed that way before. He recognised the sign nailed to the gate warning strangers to “Keep Out” in bold, red letters.

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