Broken Boys Despise Deceit: A Second Chance Romance, page 7
“Not everyone gets sick right away,” she says kindly, her hand taking mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
This time, my stomach churns for a whole new reason. “Yeah, but I got my period, like, a few days after I arrived.”
She nods a few times, then asks, “Have you had it since then?”
My body goes lax as shock envelops me. No. Just, no. It’s not possible. It can’t be.
Chapter Eight
Twelve Months Later
Hands locked behind my head, I pace back and forth, sweat pouring down my temples, burning my eyes.
“You done already?” Trick pants, looking as drained as I do.
I smirk. “Just catching my breath. Why, you looking for an out?”
“You wish, pretty boy. I’m not done messing that face up.”
Trick and I have taken to beating the shit out of each other on the regular. It’s our own fucked-up brand of therapy. My dad goes into remission, then not six months later, the cancer’s back. Beat down. Trick has to see Presley at some marketing meeting. Beat down. Chance asks if I’ve heard from Scout; I haven’t. Beat down.
Is it the healthiest way to deal with our issues? Probably not. But it works for us.
Over the last year, I’ve gotten quicker on my feet. Fighting professionally was never something I was interested in. Still isn’t. But it’s the physical side that interests me. How diet and exercise affect the body. I’m still on Zeke’s team, and he’s kickin’ ass in the pro league.
“You ladies about done here?” Zeke asks, stepping onto the side of the ring with his boyfriend, Milo, right behind him. He rubs his stomach with one hand. “We’re hungry.”
I arch a brow at Trick. “You wanna call it?”
“Yeah, why not. I could eat.”
We slip through the ropes, and I beeline for the locker room to shower while he goes up the stairs to his office. Prissy fucker has his own private bathroom up in there.
Roughly ten minutes later, we all meet up by the reception desk, then head out to our local haunt, Jack’s Bar and Grill. We snag a booth in the back corner, Milo and Zeke on one side, Trick and I on the other.
Alice beams and waves as she makes her way over to take our orders. “Evenin’, boys,” she drawls. “What can I get for y’all tonight?”
I love her southern accent. It’s hot as fuck. I grin at her. “Same as usual. Four beers on tap, and I’m feelin’ a hamburger and fries tonight.”
The other guys tell her what they’re eating, then she leaves, throwing me a flirty wink over her shoulder. I smirk back before returning my attention to the table.
Milo’s got a shit-eating grin on his face as he throws his arm around Zeke’s shoulder and leans in to whisper something in his ear. The way they look at each other makes something in my chest squeeze. Those two are so in love it’s sickening.
“Knock that shit off,” I say, folding my arms over my chest, leaning my elbows on the edge of the table.
Zeke laughs and flips me off. “Jealous much.”
I scoff. “Of you two? Nah, bruh, I’m just not into watchin’ your little lovefest.”
“So don’t look, bruh,” Milo says with a smirk.
“You’re literally right in front of my face. Bit hard to miss.”
He shrugs and tugs Zeke closer to his side. “Then get over it.”
Alice interrupts the conversation, placing a round of beers on the table. Mine is last, and she trails her nails up my forearm as she leaves again.
“When are you going to tap that?” Trick asks.
My head whips toward him, glare firmly in place. He’s one of the few people who know I haven’t fucked around much since Scout bounced last year. “You don’t fuck where you eat,” I tell him. Which is one hundred percent true.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t act like you haven’t got a massive boner for her. Every time she opens her mouth, you get this dreamy look on your face. Do something about it already.”
“Just because I like the way she speaks doesn’t mean I want to bone her,” I defend.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out, Carter’s name scrawled across the screen. I answer with, “’Sup, princess?”
“You busy Saturday morning?” he asks.
“Don’t think so, why?” A baby’s cry echoes through the line, and I frown. “Where are you?”
Carter clears his throat. “I, uh…I’ve got something to tell you. Me and Chance…we’ve got a baby.”
I cup my hand around my cell and get to my feet, pushing through the Thursday night crowd, then out the back exit doors. In the alley way behind Jack’s, it’s nice and quiet, which is what I’m after because I thought my best friend just said he’s got a baby. But that’s impossible, seeing as his lady isn’t even pregnant.
“Dude, I’m gonna need you to repeat that,” I tell him.
“We’ve got a baby, man. She’s going to be ours. Her name’s Arieanna.”
I’m so freakin’ confused. “What are you even talking about? A baby? Are you high right now?”
He chuckles, and I’d bet my left nut he’s rolling his eyes at me. “No, Mase, I’m not high. She was abandoned at the fire station over on Fifth Street a few days ago because she has Downs. CPS called me, and here we are. She’s been in the hospital the last few days, and we can bring her home tomorrow.”
Jesus fuck. I run my hand through my damp curls. “A baby?” I breathe. “You’re a daddy, man. That’s—fuck, that’s insane.”
“I know. But I couldn’t let her get lost in the system and possibly end up with a family who can’t look after her needs and love her like we can.”
The emotion in his voice hits me right in the feels. “I know, brother. I know.” I sigh as the weight of what he said crashes down over me. “What kind of asshole abandons a baby like that? Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter. She’s better off with you guys. Downs schmowns, who gives a fuck if she’s missing a chromosome.”
“Thanks.” Carter sniffles.
Pretty sure my man is crying, and I’m nearly there with him. My eyes sting as I think about that poor, innocent baby being left alone like that. People are the fucking worst. But not Carter. His little sister, Bells, was born with Down syndrome. Now she’s a model and motivational speaker for kids with disabilities, thanks to his and Chance’s involvement in her life.
He clears his throat and says, “So, you’ll be there, Saturday morning, to meet your niece?”
My niece… “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I assure him.
“Thanks, Mase,” he murmurs. “I mean it, man. I wouldn’t be where I am without you standing by my side when I needed it most. Thanks for not listening when I told you to fuck off when we were kids.”
I laugh. “Best decision I ever made.”
We end the call, and I stand out in the alley for another few minutes, letting his news sink in. Carter and Chance are parents now. My brain is having a hard time wrapping itself around that. It wasn’t so long ago that it was Carter in the ring, needing to beat the shit out of something to deal with his problems. And now he’s a dad.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shake my head. How the tables have turned. We’ve basically swapped roles. I used to be the chill one of the two of us. These days, I’ve got zero chill. And all my fucks scattered in the breeze about the same time Scout did.
I let myself get head-fucked by a woman, then I turned into a bitter asshole who has to use his fists on the regular just so he can take a deep breath.
I drop my head back against the side of the building and stare up at the dark sky. Eventually, I push off the wall and head back inside. Our food has arrived, and the guys are digging in, but I’m not hungry anymore. I slide into my seat, pick up my beer, and chug it.
“You okay?” Zeke asks, concern in his eyes. “Who was on the phone?”
I swallow and force a smile. “It was Carter. Him and Chance—” I scratch my temple, unsure how to explain it. “Umm, they, like, adopted a baby. Or they’re fostering her or something. Whatever, they have a baby.”
A chunk of burger falls out of Trick’s mouth as he gapes at me. “A what?”
Nodding, I smile for real this time. “That’s what I said too. She was abandoned because she was born with Downs.”
Understanding washes over Trick’s features, and his mouth snaps shut. Milo and Zeke frown at me, so I explain. “Carter’s younger sister has Downs, and his parents were real shits to her. Ultimately, that’s why he dropped fighting and went back to college to get his special education degree.”
Zeke’s brows jump to his hairline. “No shit! I always wondered why he dropped off the scene, especially after he slaughtered Briggs so spectacularly. Never had the balls to ask him about it, though.”
“Isn’t Carter the guy who works at the community center?” Milo asks Zeke, and I tune out the rest of their conversation, instead turning my attention to Alice.
My eyes lock on her, standing by the bar, collecting an order. She glances over her shoulder, right at me, so I lift my chin and hold up four fingers. She nods, then says something to the bartender, filling her tray.
Happy that she got my order, I settle back into the booth, picking at a few fries on the side of my plate.
“You going to eat that?” Trick asks, pointing at my burger.
“Maybe,” I mutter, still not feeling it. My mind is heavy with thoughts from times past.
Trick jabs his elbow into my ribs, and I snap my neck to look at him. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Snap out of it, man. Whatever you’ve got going on up in there”—he taps my temple with his index finger—“it can’t be good if you’re not eating. So, shove it aside and eat. You can mope later.”
I roll my eyes at him and pick up my hamburger. “Yes, Dad.” I take a huge bite as a lead weight settles in my stomach. I need to get home to my father. I scarf down the rest of my food, then wash it down with the beer that Alice replaced while I was eating.
“I’m out, boys. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” I wave as I slide out of the booth. Digging my hands into my pockets, I walk the couple of blocks back to the gym to get my truck. The whole time, I think about Carter’s baby girl and him calling her my niece.
A niece. I have a niece now. I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. Jesus, I’m in no position to be a role model to a kid. Being an uncle is a big responsibility, and I’m going to take this shit seriously. I haven’t even met her yet, and I already know I’d do anything for her.
I’m smiling by the time I get inside my truck and head for home, excited to tell Dad our family has grown. It’s been just me and him for so long. With no hope of grandchildren in his future, this is as close as it’s going to get for him. And I want him to have it before he goes.
Fuck, before he goes…
My throat thickens, and I can’t swallow. Pulling into the driveway out in front of our shitty little house, I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and breathe through my nose. Knowing I’m losing my old man is killing me. But I can’t let him see it. So, I sit here until I’ve pulled my shit together enough to face him.
It takes longer than it should, but it is what it is.
I get out of the truck, then push the front door open. Dad’s sitting in his recliner in the living room, laughing at an episode of Bob’s Burgers. When his gaze finds mine, he smiles. “Have a good day?”
Nodding, I close the door behind me and sit on the loveseat beside his chair. “Was alright. Got some news tonight that’ll make you happy.”
He shuts off the sound on the TV and gives me his full attention. “Are you going to tell me you’re going to stop coming home with new bruises and split lips?”
I roll my eyes. But I am going to have to cut back on the bare-fisted sparring with Trick. I don’t want to scare the baby if my face gets messed up. I swallow and lace my fingers together, resting my elbows on my spread knees. “Yeah, maybe,” I tell him, and I swear to God, he beams. I chuckle, shaking my head. “But that’s not the news.”
His brows rise, and he smacks my shoulder with the back of his hand. “Well, don’t keep a dying man waiting. Spit it out already.”
My eyes narrow at him. He knows I hate it when he jokes about his situation.
He ignores my glare and bugs his eyes out at me. “Come on, boy.”
“Carter’s got a kid. A baby. You’re a surrogate grandpa.”
“I’m a—” He blinks back tears, rubs at his eyes, then continues, “I’m a grandpa?”
I nod, his reaction delivering a direct hit to my gut. “Yeah, old man. You’ve got a granddaughter named Arieanna. They’re bringing her home tomorrow.” Silent tears track down his cheeks, but his eyes shine with happiness. I wish I was the reason for it, but this is just as good. So long as he’s smiling, that’s all that matters.
“Tell me everything, because I know that girl of his wasn’t pregnant when they came to visit last weekend,” he says with a rough laugh.
I relay everything Carter told me and that we can go to meet her on Saturday morning.
“Well, alright then.” He rubs his hands together. “I’ll make sure I take it easy tomorrow so I’ll have enough energy to go see my grandbaby.”
I chuckle. “You do that. I’m going to crash.” I get up and turn away from him, stepping toward the hallway, when his voice stops me.
“Love you, son,” he murmurs.
My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek. Right after he told me he was stopping chemo and radiation, he started saying it every time I leave a room or the house.
“Love you, too, old man,” I say, striding to my room and locking the door behind me.
Chapter Nine
I roll out of bed, slapping at my cell to turn off the alarm as I go. Shuffling to the bathroom, I take a leak, then wash my hands, taking in my reflection. My eyes are red-rimmed, and black bags have taken up residence beneath them.
Apparently, holding back tears also results in red eyes. Who knew? Not me, until recently. I feel like shit all the fucking time. My dad is dying right before my eyes, and I can’t pull my head out of my ass long enough to take decent care of myself.
I’m ripped as fuck from working out alongside Zeke every day, but I’m on the lean side because I haven’t been eating properly. Which is probably why Trick gave me shit for not eating my burger last night.
But grief is not conducive to having a healthy appetite. He’s not even gone, and I feel like I’m already mourning him. How fucked up is that?
After wandering out to the kitchen, I start the coffee machine, then force myself to make a bowl of muesli and eat it. I need to do better. Carter’s baby is a good motivator; I want to be the best damn uncle in the whole freaking world.
But I need to do it for myself too. I hate feeling like crap all the time. And I know Dad has noticed. It’s just a matter of time before he says something about it.
I pour my coffee into a travel mug, then return to my room to get dressed for the day. I’ve got a whole wardrobe of fancy-ass gym gear now. Trick has an entire line, and lucky me gets to model it whenever his marketing team decides they need new images for whatever campaign they’re running at the time. The plus side is I haven’t had to buy any new clothes for nearly a year.
I tug on some lightweight, long pants to ward off the slight chill in the air, then throw on a navy-blue polo with the gym’s logo over my heart. Picking up my coffee, I head two doors down the hallway to Dad’s room.
I press my ear to it, hear nothing, then turn the handle as quietly as possible. I don’t like heading out without checking on him first. Peeking my head in, I’m relieved to find him sleeping soundly. My gaze sweeps to his chest, watching the steady rise and fall, then I close the door just as quietly and leave.
“Yo, I’m cutting out for lunch today,” I call to Trick as he makes his way up the stairs to his office. He nods his acknowledgement and salutes me.
“Where you goin’?” Zeke asks, coming up alongside me.
I shrug as if it’s no big deal, as if I’m not going shopping for baby stuff. “Just out.”
Zeke waggles his brows. “Going to have some alone time, huh?”
Shaking my head, I slug him in the shoulder. “No, dick bag. I’m going to Target.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Shopping for my new niece. Can’t show up empty handed when I meet her tomorrow. That’s bad form.”
His eyes light up. “Can I come? I love baby shit. It’s so tiny and cute.”
I side-eye him. “Yeah, okaaay.”
He follows me out to my truck, and we sit in this kinda awkward silence as I drive.
A few miles in, Zeke clears his throat and asks, “So, how’s your dad doing?”
Fuck. I preferred the silence. I grip the steering wheel harder. “Okay, I guess.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
I shrug and make a concerted effort to relax. I can’t be an asshole every time someone shows concern about my old man. “It’s all good. I know you’re not asking to be a dick. He gets worn out real quick, like walking from his room to the kitchen and stuff. He’s sleeping a lot too. I guess that’s a good thing; he’s not in pain when he’s sleeping.”
Zeke nods as I speak. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ve been trying to work out how to bring it up, and now seems like a good time. Milo wanted me to tell you that he’d like to offer you and your dad his services so your dad can do palliative care at home, free of charge. If that’s something he wants.”
A vise squeezes around my lungs, and my eyes burn with emotion. I keep them fixed on the road ahead of me, not wanting Zeke to see. All I can do is nod as my heart pounds like a jackhammer behind my ribs. Milo is a nurse—a damn good one. They don’t know it, but they’ve just taken a massive weight off my shoulders. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how I’m going to pay for a nurse when the time comes.
Fuck, my throat aches as I work to swallow past the lump lodged there. “Thanks, man. That… Please tell Milo I’d be forever grateful.”
