When I Need You (Need You #4)

I froze. “Where did you hear my middle name?”

“From your mother. But I don’t believe her claim that she named you that because you weighed as much as a full-grown Saint Bernard when you were born.” She nudged me. “Go take your seat. The show starts in five minutes.”

I forced her to meet my gaze. “Aren’t you sitting with me?”

“Nope. I’m in the back with my parents.”

“No, you’re in the front with me. You have the very best seat in the house to video every moment of Calder’s performance.”

Her eyes searched mine. “That’s not fair to the other parents who were here earlier than me.”

I got nose to nose with her. “They wouldn’t even be sitting in the audience if not for you bringing the need for this camp to LCCO’s attention. This time, baby, you get the perks because you deserve it. Now are you walking up there on your own steam? Or am I dragging you?”

When it appeared she intended to argue, I snagged her hand. “Suit yourself. We’ll play it that way.”

“Fine.” Rowan tugged her hand free. “I’ll sit with you. But I need to get the portable battery charger for my phone from my mom. Taking video wears the battery down.”

“I have an extra one right here.” I patted the pocket of my sport coat. “My phone is fully charged too if you need it.”

“You’re prepared. It’s like you’ve done this kid’s program thing before.”

“I wanted to avoid a rookie mistake my first time, so I might’ve gone overboard in the pregame prep.”

She stared at me. “This is why I love you.”

“Because of my sports analogies?” I teased.

“No. Because you always think of someone besides yourself.”

That was the first time in my life I’d ever heard that, but I’d be damn sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Lead the way.”

As soon as we were seated, the lights dimmed. Rowan already had her phone out.

Dallas had done an outstanding job putting the program together. The sets flowed seamlessly from a musical number to a dance number to a combination. In the theatrical production the students’ talents even outshone the visually stunning backdrop that Walker and Trinity had created.

But when Calder was onstage, I didn’t really see anyone else. At age six the boy seemed years ahead, talentwise, of all of the other students.

Or maybe every parent feels that way about their kid.

That thought didn’t startle me. Rowan had raised an amazing little boy and I was so damn proud for both of them that I wanted to burst. I wanted to watch as Calder grew and changed from an amazing boy to an even more amazing young man. I wanted to play a role in making that happen.

The entire thing lasted an hour. As soon as the curtain went down, I snuck around to the side door and slipped backstage.

The blast of energy hit me with the same familiarity as when the team won a game. The arts and sports didn’t seem all that different right then.

Astrid planted herself in front of me and thrust a clipboard at me. “Here’s an alphabetical list of all the students’ names. Read them off one at a time. Then introduce the staff members, do your speech thing and remind the audience all of the kids’ art projects are displayed throughout the first two rooms and there is a reception with snacks in the library.”

I frowned at her. “No offense, Astrid, but I didn’t have a clue there’d be after-program activities. Who planned it?”

“I did. With help from Selka and Edie. And Talia helped out.”

“Talia? As in Calder’s nanny, Talia? Why would she . . . ?”

Astrid blushed.

Guess Astrid had crushed on a woman who crushed on her back.

“Anyway, you weren’t here and I knew it was the type of ‘fussy’ stuff that you didn’t give a damn about anyway—no offense—so I just handled it.”

I grabbed her and hugged her hard. “Astrid, darlin’, you are the bomb. Seriously. I’m writing you the most glowing letter of recommendation the world has ever seen. I swear if you weren’t in college full-time, I’d hire you to be my personal assistant right freakin’ now.”

She started to tear up. Then she caught herself and rolled her eyes. “Dude. You need a PA. And you oughta know that I can get more stuff done in twenty hours a week than most people do in forty.”

“True. We’ll talk next week then. If you’re seriously interested.”

“Deal.” She tried to shove me back. “Now, go do your speechifying and bring the house down because a few reporters set up in the back after the lights came up.”

Great. But it wasn’t anything new to my life. That thought allowed a sense of calm to steal over me.

You got this.

Clipboard in hand, I strode out onto the middle of the stage.

? ? ?


In addition to talking briefly about each kid—with a limited enrollment I had gotten to know them individually—and introducing the camp staff, I brought Aunt Priscilla, Aunt Edie and my mother onto the stage because they deserved recognition for all the good things LCCO did for the community. They even got a little teary eyed when they noticed I’d saved the biggest bouquets for them.

As soon as I finished closing remarks and encouraged everyone to wander the building, the reporters approached me. No matter how many times I tried to redirect, they were focused on getting the story about Camp Step-Up from The Rocket. I kept as much of the conversation away from football as I could.

So I didn’t get to see my family until nearly half an hour later.

The hallway teemed with kids and parents, but I was looking for one kid in particular.

Calder spied me first. The instant he saw me, his face lit up. Then he was running toward me, dodging and weaving through people like I did on the football field—not that I’d make the comparison to his mother—when I had the goal line in my sights.

He threw himself at me and I caught him, crushing him to my chest as he wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed me tight. I closed my eyes and let his excitement and his need to share it with me flow through me.

I’d missed this.

“Did you see me dance?” he demanded.

I propped him on my hip and smoothed his hair back from his face. “Of course I did. I was in the front row.”

He chattered on and I listened with amusement to his analysis of every dance, which also led me to comparisons of how I rehashed a game, discussing the highlights and the mistakes. When he paused to breathe, I said, “You were outstanding, ninja-dance boy.”

“What was your favorite part?”

I grinned at him and kissed his forehead. “Are you kidding me? When you took center stage and performed that move we saw on Dancing with the Stars! How long did it take you to learn it?”

He groaned. “All summer. I thought I’d never get it.”

“Well, it looked like you’ve got it down, little dude, and you know the deal we made. You gotta teach it to me.”

“’Kay.”

Calder rested his head on my shoulder. “Seems like you were gone a loooong time. Are you done with football camp?”

“Almost.”

“I’m glad you were surprised, Rocketman. Mommy was too.”