“What are you talking about?”
“Harper.” Her name was the only thing he seemed to be able to make out at that moment, but I’d heard him well enough.
“What about her?”
Cal sighed again. “I’m not going to be making my flight Friday night.”
I said nothing, absorbing this information. If Calum missed his flight on Friday, that meant he’d be missing our last show in Edmonton on Saturday night.
Calum had never missed a show or let his troubles fuck up a performance. We all took our work very seriously. We played while sick, hungover, or in the case of Cal and Evan—high out of their tree. But we’d never had to cancel a show before.
“Because ofHarper?” I asked, stupefied. Calum hadn’t spoken her name aloud sober in years. He had to be drunk, he wasn’t making any fucking sense.
“She’s got a kid,mykid,” Cal replied.
“You’re fucking joking,” I deadpanned. I fell silent for a few moments, working out what Calum was trying to tell me. “How do you know it’s yours?”
“Because his age lines up with when I left, and because it’s Harper. She wouldn’t lie about something like that. Because he looks just like me, and because I know in my fucking gut he’s mine.”
“Easy, Cal. I’m just saying…” I hedged cautiously. I hadn’t meant to insult Harper or accuse her of lying, but…if it was true, why hadn’t she reached out before?
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of shit to figure out right now. I can’t leave, not yet.”
“This is our last show for a while, why don’t you play it and then we’ll take a small hiatus?” I suggested, knowing the label would be pissed if we canceled. There’d be a financial penalty for sure. We’d have to pay the venue and reimburse tickets. It wouldn’t bankrupt us, but it wasn’t small change either.
“I hate to let the fans down, and you guys too, but I really can’t leave, Dare. I’m meeting him Saturday night. If I reschedule or push it, it’ll give the impression I don’t care and that I’d chose music over him, like I did to her. I can’t do that—not again.”
Him. Calum had a son with Harper. I tried to wrap my brain around that but couldn’t. If my head was spinning, I could only imagine what his was doing. No wonder he needed time.
“I get it. We’ll cancel the show. Extenuating circumstances and whatnot.” I was far from happy about it, but only because I knew the headache I was in for when I got off the phone and caught Tai up to speed. I was pissed we’d stayed at all. We were a band, we toured together. Evan and I should have been on that flight too.
“Thanks, man,” Calum said with relief.
“Don’t mention it. I’ll talk to Evan and Tai, and we’ll get it sorted on this end. Guess this means we’ll be making it to the funeral after all. I’ll give you a call later once our flight is booked, okay?”
“All right,” Cal said before ending the call.
After hanging up the phone, I sat in stunned silence, rolling over everything Calum had just told me in my head. Did Connor know? Did his parents? What in the ever-loving fuck was Harper thinking, keeping such a momentous thing to herself?
I knew Calum had hurt her, but this seemed completely out of character for her. Harper didn’t have a malicious bone in her body. In fact, when Cal first started bringing her around to hang out, I didn’t get it. It wasn’t that Harper wasn’t gorgeous, it was that she was just so sweet and pure, and not at all the kind of girl he usually went for.
I had assumed, when Calum decided to break things off with her, it was probably because he thought it was for the best, this lifestyle would chew her up and spit her back out again.
“Was that Calum? What did he say?” Evan asked, sitting down on the sofa across from me.
I sighed heavily. “Well, we’ve got to cancel Saturday’s show.”
“Why?” Evan frowned. “We’ve never had to cancel a show!”
“Calum just found out that he has a kid with Harper. He’s supposed to meet him Saturday night.”
Evan stared at me without blinking for several beats. “Excuse me. I think I misheard. What did you say?”
“You heard me.” I exhaled, massaging my temple…trying to ease the stress headache that had come on, sudden and strong like a nor’easter storm.
“Well, shit. You sure?” Evan leaned back against the couch, running a hand over his jaw. “That’s a mindfuck and a half. Why is he just hearing about it now?” He sounded angry on behalf of Cal.
“No clue.” I shook my head—that wasn’t the point anyway—although it was weird to think that while we were building a legacy with our music, Harper had been raising a different kind of legacy—a child on her own.
