“Which ones?” The ones that claim I got her pregnant? Or the ones where I hit her? Or the ones where I impregnated an alien and then the alien put the baby inside her?
“The baby ones.”
I look at her flat stomach. “Are congratulations in order?”
She heaves a sigh. “Yes.”
A tear rolls down her cheek and shocks the hell out of me. “Oh, God, Amanda,” I say. I bring my foot down and lean forward. “When? How? Whose is it?”
She flops onto the couch. “Don’t worry. It’s not yours. And I’m not keeping it.”
My insides unclench. Not that I was worried, but for a minute I was seriously worried. “Okay,” I say slowly.
“See, the thing is…” She bites her lower lip between her teeth. I used to find that so sexy. But it’s not. Not on her. Not now.
“It’s Andrew’s,” I say. It comes out more as a growl.
She nods.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I was hoping maybe you could be my friend.” She looks at me, hope shining in her eyes.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Would you stop that?”
“No.”
“Sam,” she whines.
“Does Andrew know?”
“No. Not yet, and I don’t want him to find out.”
“He’s going to be a father, and you don’t want him to know?”
She fidgets and I brace myself.
“Well, since the tabloids are already saying it’s yours, I thought maybe you could…just…not un-say it. Not quite yet. And I’ll get it taken care of.”
I shake my head firmly. “I am not going to be your baby-daddy. No way in hell. No fucking way. Absolutely not.” Okay, I probably could have just said no.
“Seriously, you’re not going to help me? You used to love me.”
No, I didn’t. I liked her, right up to the minute I found out she was fucking Andrew Tetra. “We broke up. You cheated.”
She jumps to her feet and puts her hands on her hips. “You asked me to marry you!” she cries.
“Fuck, no, I did not!” I get up and jam my crutches under my arms.
“Yes, you did! At the hospital, after your accident. I came to see you and you asked me to marry you.”
No, I didn’t. “You really need to stop smoking the crazy shit while you’re pregnant,” I tell her. I know she doesn’t get high but, right now, she’s acting like she just smoked a big one.
“That is not amusing.” She lays a hand over her belly. “You did ask me.” She lifts her nose in the air, sniffs, and stares me down.
I think back to my hospital stay. I remember seeing my brothers and their wives. And Peck. And that’s it. They told me afterward that Amanda was there, but I don’t even remember it. “I did not.” I point toward the door and hobble over to it, jerking it wide. “You should go.” I step back out of her way. “Out.”
“I’m not going to deny it when they ask me.” She stares me in the eye. “I just want you to know that.”
“I’ll deny it enough for both of us.” I point to the door again.
“Are you seriously going to do this to me?” She folds her arms beneath her breasts.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” I tell her. “Andrew did. Go see him.”
“I don’t want Andrew!” she cries.
Peck’s door opens and she stands in the opening, staring at the two of us. “Everything okay?” She taps her hand on the doorjamb.
“Mind your own business!” Amanda shrieks.
I stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it around. I didn’t know that decibel level existed. Hell, Logan, my deaf brother, could have heard that.
Peck glowers at her and points toward the door. “Need some help?”
“Bitch, just try it,” Amanda taunts.
Peck starts toward her, and I have to reach and grab her or there’s going to be a lot of hair-pulling and scratching. And I’m out of Band-Aids. I drop one of my crutches and hook my arm around Peck’s waist. “Whoa!” I shout. I pull her back and put my body between them. Peck pushes to get around me, and almost knocks me off my feet. “Would you stop it?” I hiss. “She’s pregnant. You can’t hit her.” No matter how much I want you to.
Peck freezes. “She’s p-p-pregnant?”
“Yes, I’m p-p-pregnant,” Amanda mocks.
“That’s enough. Get out,” I say. The words drop in the room like pebbles on a pond. I can almost see them ripple across the room toward her. They finally hit Amanda and she knows I’m serious. She turns on her heel and leaves. I slam the door behind her.
“She’s pregnant?” Peck whispers, her hand tapping the counter.
I nod. “I’m sorry she picked on your stutter.” I watch her face.
She slices a hand through the air. “I don’t give a shit.” I think I hear her say “about that,” but I’m not completely sure. “How far along is she?”
“I have no idea.”
She nods. “What are you going to do about it?”
I lay a hand on my chest. “I’m not going to do anything about it.”
She scowls. “Seriously?”
“It’s not mine.”
She freezes. I see a sudden glimmer in her eye. “Really?” She takes a deep breath.
“Really. That’s why she was here. She wanted me to pretend like it is so the father won’t know.”
“And you said no?”
I scoff. “Of course I said no. Do I look stupid?”
“Well…” She grins and it’s so damn cute that I want to kiss her. Right now.
“Amanda’s not being very smart about the whole thing.”
“If she were any dumber, you’d have to water her.”
I laugh. Because that shit’s funny. She grins, too. “What were you going to do to her? Before I pulled you back? Yank her hair? You could have broken a nail.”
She blows out a breath. “I grew up in foster care. I know how to slap a bitch and make it count.”
I grin. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“I didn’t. I came out to tell you…” She winces. “Never mind.”
“What?”
She looks into my eyes. “You did ask her to marry you. I was there. I heard you.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
I throw my hands up. “Why would I do that?”
“For the same reason you asked me, I’d guess.” Her cheeks redden.
Not even close. “I asked you because I fucking meant to ask you. I almost died. That makes you see things a little more clearly. When the semi hit the taxi, you were in my fucking head. Just you. You’re the one I wanted to marry me. Not anybody else.”
“I didn’t think you remembered,” she says quietly.
“Of course I remember.” I brush a lock of hair back from her face and palm her cheek. “I think you need to think about something.”
“What?” she whispers.
“When you thought she was pregnant… I saw your face.”
“So?” She avoids my eyes.
“So I think you need to give some thought as to why that hit you so hard.”
“A helpless child is involved,” she says. She clenches her fists.
“That’s all it was?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
She turns and goes back to her room. But at the last moment, she comes back, picks up the crutch I dropped, and sticks it in my hand. “Here,” she says.
I grin. I can’t help it.
She slams the door behind her.
Peck
I close the door behind me—rather forcefully—and lean heavily against it. He wants me to think about it? Seriously? That’s all I do is think about it. I made the biggest mistake ever coming here. He offered asylum, but what I wanted was to get a chance to explore what we have together. And now that we’ve had a chance to explore it, I want to do even more.
I sit d
own on my bed and flop backward.
My phone rings and jerks me from my wayward thoughts. I grin when I see that it’s Emilio.
“What’s up, Woody?” he says by way of greeting.
“N-nothing much, Melio,” I tell him, using the nickname all us sisters affectionately call him. I can’t erase the smile Emilio always brings to my face. He’s genuinely good and kind, and he’s my dad. My dad by choice, if not by birth, and there’s never been any doubt in my mind that he wanted me to be his daughter. Ever.
“If you tell me that Reed boy is up, I’m going to come over there with my baseball bat.”
What? Then it hits me. “Eww, Melio. That’s disgusting. Don’t bring that stuff up.”
“I should be telling you not to bring it up,” he murmurs, but he’s laughing.
I hear him inhale and bolt upright in the bed. “Are you smoking?” I demand. Marta will kill him.
He chuckles. “No.” He holds his breath for a second and exhales. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“You’re going to be in so much trouble.”
He laughs.
But Emilio only smokes when something is really bothering him. “What is it?” I ask.
“Your birth mother came by today. The girls say she went to your apartment too.”
My gut clenches. “Okay,” I say slowly. “Did she say what she wants?”
“She wants money for rehab.” He growls.
If I thought she’d really use it for rehab, I’d give it to her. “No, she doesn’t. She wants to get high.”
“I know.” He heaves a sigh.
“Should I give it to her?” God knows I have enough.
“If I thought she would actually go to rehab, I’d give to her myself.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“She left her contact information.”
“And?”
“And the address she gave me is an apartment building that Bone owns.”
Everyone knows who Bone is. He’s a drug dealer in the neighborhood. He also runs a prostitution ring. And is into all sorts of other criminal activity. “She’s staying with a known drug dealer?”
“Looks like it.”
“Is she working for him?”
“Define working.”
“Turning tricks? Selling?” My heart is beating so fast it might fly out of my chest.
“My guess would be yes on both counts. She’s pretty desperate.”
“I saw her this morning. She looked awful. Does she know where I am?”
“I doubt it. Don’t know how she could.”
I let out a breath of relief. “What should I do?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He waits a beat. “Do you want to see her?” he asks me quietly.
Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. “I don’t know.”
“She’s not the person you once knew.”
“Well, the one I did know wasn’t very nice to me either.”
“If you want to see her, I’ll set something up.”
It’s nice of him to offer, but I just don’t know. “Let me think about it.”
“Fair enough. How’s it going with Mr. Reed?”
“Fine.”
He chuckles. “That’s all I get? Fine?” He laughs out loud. “Seriously?”
“He made me dinner.”
I can almost hear his smile through the phone. “Well, that was nice.”
“We talked.”
“And?”
“Then his old girlfriend showed up, and we didn’t talk anymore.”
He whistles. “Well, that wasn’t what I expected.” I hear him inhale and exhale. “Where is he now?”
“Watching TV, I think.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“Me-li-o,” I whine.
“Go get him. I have dad business to discuss with him. You wouldn’t understand.”
I get up and go to the door. Sam is sitting on the couch watching the end of the cook-off show. He pauses it when I walk up. “Melio wants to talk you. Would you mind?”
He holds out his hand and takes my phone, lifting it gently to his ear. He’s wary of my phone. That’s funny.
“Yes, sir,” I hear him say. Sam’s eyes meet mine and I see him grin. I lift my hands in question and he waves me away.
I go and sit down on the other end of the sofa.
“Of course,” he says into the phone. He glances in my direction and then quickly away. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of her.”
He laughs. But then I hear a sharp retort through the phone and he sobers, his cheeks growing red. “Yes, sir,” he says.
He hands the phone back to me. I lift it to my ear. “What did you do?” I ask Emilio.
“Nada damn thing that didn’t need doing.” He chuckles. “Love you, kid.”
“Love you too, Melio.”
“Think about what I asked you.”
I nod like he can see me. “I will. I’ll let you know.”
He says goodbye and hangs up. I sink back against the couch cushion. Sam laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I glare at him.
“Nothing.” But he’s still biting back laughter.
“What did he say to you?”
“You really want to know?” He grabs my foot and jerks it into his lap. My bottom slides across the couch.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a man bodily move me around before. I’m not sure I like it. And I’m not sure I don’t like it, either. “What did he say?”
“He said the only thing that could be referenced as a woody around here had better be the Woodpecker. I think he meant you. And that I should worry about castration if I try to get in your pants.”
“Oh.” What little breath I can get in and out stalls. Sam sort of stole it all with that declaration. “I’m sorry about that.” I wince.
“He’s your dad.” He shrugs. “I respect that.”
I nod, because I can’t think of anything to say. I lean back and look at the ceiling. Sam tugs on my middle toe. “Did he have news about your mom?”
I nod, and lay my forearm over my eyes.
“H-he s-said she c-came to s-see him.”
His fingertips very gently skim up and down the top of my foot. “Did he say what she wants?”
“M-money. Wh-what else?” I realize my tapping stopped when he jerked my foot, and I just stuttered in front of him, over and over. I open my eyes and lift my arm from them, looking down at him. “Wh-what sh-should I do?” I lay my arm back over my eyes. “Sh-she’s l-living with a kn-known d-drug dealer.”
“Who?” he rushes to ask.
“His n-name is Bone. Do you kn-know him?”
He stiffens, and his hand tightens on my foot. “I know him.”
“I k-kind of w-want to see her,” I say quietly.
“Of course you do. It’s natural to want a connection. She gave birth to you.” His fingers start their gentle sweep again, and the sensation shoots straight to the center of me. “Can I help?”
I shake my head. “I w-want to th-think about it.”
“Understandable.” He picks up the remote and turns his show back on. “This is the best part.” He points at the TV and grins. I lift my feet, but he grabs them and holds tight. “Stay a few minutes. I missed you when you were gone.” He grins at me again.
My heart clenches.
His fingers start that slow sweep up and down my foot again. I turn my head so I can watch the TV with him. He talks to the TV while the cook-off is going on, like Emilio does when he’s watching sports. It makes me laugh.
He looks at me, his brows raised. “Are you laughing at me?” He grabs my foot tightly and holds it, his other hand holding my middle toe. He gives it a tug and I squeal.
“Let me go!”
He laughs and tugs my toe until it pops. It doesn’t hurt. But it’s damn aggravating. “That’s what you get when you mess with me,” h
e taunts.
I lift my feet from his lap amid his protests, and sit up so I can settle against his side. “This okay?” I ask.
He nods and puts his arm around me.
God, what am I doing?
Sam
Something shoves my shoulder. “Sam!” a voice hisses.
I freeze. Someone’s in my room.
“Sam!” the voice hisses again. I look at the clock. It’s two in the morning. When I went to bed, I was all alone and I had blue balls from sitting on the couch snuggled up with Peck. “Sam!” the voice says again.
“What?” I ask. I roll onto my back and see the outline of a person staring down at me. I reach over and turn on the bedside light.
“Sam, th-there’s a d-drip over my b-bed.”
“A what?” I’m still not completely awake.
“The c-ceiling is d-dripping water,” she says. “C-come and look at it.”
What the fuck am I supposed to do about dripping water? Then I remember the growing water stain on the ceiling of her room. “Oh, crap. The water.” I should have called maintenance. “How much water are we talking about?” I toss the covers off and grab my crutches. I’ll be so glad when I can walk on my leg. I hobble into her room and turn on the light. Ping. Ping. There’s a steady drip right over where her head should be.
“I th-think it’s g-getting worse,” she says.
“Would you grab a bowl or something?” I ask her. I reach for the phone on her bedside table and call downstairs.
She comes back and puts the bowl under the leak, but soon there’s already two inches of water in the bowl. That’s not going to last long.
“Wh-what do we d-do now?”
“Maintenance is on the way,” I tell her. I look at her. Finally look at her. She’s wearing a T-shirt, and I can see the elastic leg of her panties when she turns. “Why don’t you go in my room and wait?” She looks down and flushes.
“Oh, crap,” she says. She pulls a drawer open and gets a pair of shorts. I can’t draw my eyes away from that perfect round ass. I know, I’m a rude fucker, but I can’t look away.
“Damn, that’s pretty,” I murmur. I bite my cheek, trying to take my mind off it. I’m sitting here in my boxers and nothing else, trying not to let her see how hard I’m getting. While my ceiling leaks on our heads.
She steps into the hallway and puts on her shorts. When she comes back, all that beautiful skin is covered up. Just my luck. Her bra is hanging on the end of the bed. I hook it with my finger and hold it up. “Do you need this?”