Unbound (the TORQUED trilogy Book 3) Page 11

  My knees shift on the metal and I move my hips on accident against his. His hands drop from my face to my hips, halting my movements. He doesn’t want me moving. Moaning against my lips, he then pushes me down and I automatically slide against his erection straining beneath his jeans.

  It’s wrong, it really is because this is not what I need. I can’t subject Lyric to this. It will only hurt him because I don’t want him knowing Rawley if he’s not going to be what he needs to be.

  He’s panting when he pulls away, gasping for breaths, trying to gather himself, and there’s a moment where we stare at each other, neither of us daring to move.

  I know this isn’t the answer, but I couldn’t help myself, and I don’t think he could either.

  Swallowing and attempting to catch my breath, I move from his lap and sit beside him.

  His body stiffens and when I look up, his expression is so intense, as if he’s going to say something. His gaze moves to mine but he says nothing, at least not in words but his eyes, they remind me of when I told him about Mexico and the vulnerability I couldn’t escape for years.

  He breaks eye contact, his head turning toward the field, jaw taut as he stands.

  “Why are you leaving?”

  “Because if I stay, I know I’m going to say something I’m going to regret.” He’s a foot away when he pauses, but he doesn’t look back at me. “We’ll talk… I just can’t right now.”

  I hold out hope he means he just needs some space to think. I know it’s a lot: he’s a father to a kid he didn’t know about, but I can’t help but think I really shouldn’t feel guilty about this. I didn’t tell him because the Rawley I know and am constantly dealing with can’t handle fatherhood.

  And I know that was wrong. It wasn’t my decision to make. I should have told him and it’s another regret I will have to live with.

  I sleep like shit. The kind of restless sleep where you’re not sure if you actually slept, or tossed and turned all night.

  I think of my music and Seattle and the difference between here and there. I think about Beck and Lincoln, and everything they said to me.

  But I mostly think of Sophie.

  Rain hits the window outside my bedroom window, a constant patter of thick drops and the occasional gust of wind slaps the glass. I toss and turn and wish like hell I wasn’t the way I am.

  It’s been two days since I found out I was a father and I can’t say anything to her. I want so badly to talk to her, to apologize for the things I did, but there’s something inside me even I don’t understand.

  You leave and you think, you know, everyone’s better off without you and the longer time goes by, it’s easier to stay away. It seems almost natural. It’s not though. When you come back, that’s what’s hard. What’s hard is when you find out you have a kid you didn’t know about.

  Maybe that’s why I slept like shit, constantly wondering what the fuck this means now. Does she want me in his life? Does he? Do I?

  My bedroom door opens suddenly and in walks Nova. “Where have you been?”

  I sit up on my elbows and change the subject. “Why are you in here?”

  “Because I am.” She sits next to me and rests her head on my pillow. “Now where have you been?”

  I scoot away from her. “Nova, I’m naked.”

  She turns her head, looks at my bare chest and then at the ceiling. “I see that. Cover yourself up. I don’t want to see your tinkle.”

  My tinkle? What the fuck is she talking about?

  “My what?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Your tinkle. Why are you avoiding my question?”

  “Because I’m naked and I don’t want to be talking to you like that.” I pull my blanket up under my chin. “Go away.”

  She points at me as she’s getting out of the bed. “Get dressed and then we’re talking.”

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I flop my head back against my pillow. Reaching for my cell phone on my nightstand, I roll over and check my messages. There’s one from Lincoln asking if I’m doing okay, but nothing from Beck. I don’t reply because forgive me, I’m still a little fucking bent by the shit they pulled the other night. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, but they’re my boys. I’d have their backs no matter what.

  Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and sit there for a moment looking at my room. It’s clear my mom’s been in here a time or two since I’ve been gone. The clothes I left on the floor are gone, dresser drawers are pushed in and the carpet’s vacuumed.

  Standing, I pull my jeans on from last night and dig a T-shirt and sweatshirt out of my bag I brought with me.

  When I’m downstairs, I see Nova at the kitchen table and Mom over the stove. The rich scent of pancakes, syrup, and bacon carry through the room.

  Mom smiles at me when I sit down next to Nova. “Feeling better today?”

  I don’t look at her. “I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me.” She can sense my bitterness. She knows me that well.

  “It wasn’t my place. Now eat.” She kisses my forehead, sweeping my hair from my face as she sets a plate of pancakes in front of me. “You look like you could use some food.”

  Nova stares at me, fork in one hand, syrup in the other. “You look skinny.”

  With a heavy sigh, I twist in the chair and haul Nova off the chair beside me and onto my lap. “You look a little skinny too, princess girl.” Digging my fingers into her ribs, I move them along carefully. “I can feel your ribs.”

  Lightly, she slaps my cheek with her sticky left hand she manages to get free. “You’re supposed to feel ribs, dummy.”

  I set my pancake princess back in her seat and stare at the food in front of me. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten an actual meal. Yesterday I had nachos from the bar and that was it. I have to admit, I missed my mom’s pancakes.

  Though I desperately want a line, it gets easier every hour I’m away from Seattle. My body feels like I’m recovering from a flu, shaky and weak from the withdrawals of the lifestyle I had there, but it’s not unmanageable and nothing a cigarette or the occasional joint hasn’t eased.

  “Okay, well, I have to go pick up Aunt Gale from the airport,” Mom says, waving at us and then jets out the back door to the garage.

  When Mom’s out the door, I look to Nova with confusion. “Who’s watching you?”

  Completely unfazed, she shrugs and takes another bite of her pancake. “Apparently she forgot I was here. Looks like you’re it, dude.”

  It’s not like I haven’t watched her before, but I figured they wouldn’t trust me with her. Red certainly wouldn’t.

  “Now that she’s gone… where have you been?”

  Taking the syrup from her, I pour some on my pancakes. “Seattle.”

  “Why?”

  “Music.”

  “Oh, right.” She nods and takes another bite, chewing with her mouth open. “I heard you on the radio.”

  “Yeah? What did you think?”

  “You say a lot of bad words.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, so do you.”

  “True.”

  We’re just about finished with our pancakes when I hear the quick breaths and thumps of what can only be described as a baby crawling. Nova and I both turn around to see Lyric scurrying across the floor to the edge of the table like he’d just been let loose from prison.

  He stops at my chair and stares at me, grinning a big toothless grin, drool dripping down his chin.

  I look to Nova, and then at him again. It’s the first look I’ve gotten of him this close besides in passing the other night. It’s certainly easy to see he’s mine. Same eyes, same nose… even has my glare as he attempts to stand holding onto the edge of the chair, determination set in his brown eyes.

  Nova shakes her head, chuckling under her breath. “It’s a baby, Uncle. Not an alien. Pick him up.”

  Rolling my eyes, I lean down to where he’s now standing, using the edge of my chair to keep uprigh
t. With my hands under his arms, I slowly lift him up off the ground and onto my lap. He looks down at his feet on my thighs, his tiny body leaning against the table. He’s out of his pajamas and dressed in jeans and a baby flannel. I have to admit he looks pretty cute like this.

  I hold onto his hands, his chubby little fingers around mine, but I don’t say anything. We hear footsteps beside me. “Sorry, I can take him,” Sophie says, rushing inside the kitchen as she ties her hair back in a ponytail and reaches for him.

  He doesn’t reach for her and I don’t let him go. We just stare at one another and I wonder if he knows I’m his dad. Like, does he sense by looking at me or can babies not sense that sort of thing?

  “It’s okay. You can make yourself some food if you want,” I tell Sophie.

  She stares at me like she doesn’t even know who I am. Hell, I don’t even know at this point. Here I am staring at my son and holding him on my lap for the first time. I don’t know what to make of any of this.

  Mom rushes through the door drawing our attention to her. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Nova!”

  All three of us stare at her and then Nova waves her hand around and shoves the last of her pancakes in her mouth. “Don’t worry about it.” Setting down her fork, she slides out of the chair. “Daddy forgot me at the store the other day.”

  “Like at the grocery store?” Sophie asks, laughing.

  “Yep.”

  Mom rushes Nova out the door. “Come on. I’m really sorry, but we’re running late now.”

  “What’s new?” Nova mumbles, reaching for her iPad as they leave.

  When I turn back around to Lyric still on my lap, he smiles even wider when we make eye contact and then lets out a squeal.

  I panic. I don’t know baby sounds. “Is he mad?”

  “No.” Sophie reaches for him and he raises his hands this time for her. “He’s probably hungry.”

  I hand him over to her but don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say.

  “What do you do with him during the day?” I ask when she’s fixing him a bottle.

  “Since he started crawling I’ve had to put him in daycare at Elle’s place.”

  I cringe thinking of Elle watching him. I’m sad to admit this, but the one time I picked up Nova from daycare for Red, she gave me a fuckin’ blow job in the bathroom while the kids were napping. “You shouldn’t have her watch him. She’s not very attentive.”

  Sophie raises an eyebrow like she knows everything I don’t want to tell her. “I know, but I don’t have a choice. I work at the shop now and when he started crawling, he’d crawl out to the shop when they were working.”

  “You’re working there now?”

  “Yeah. They needed some help in the office answering phones and filing. When I got pregnant, Dan had to let me go from the coffee shop.”

  “Why?”

  “Said it was a liability.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “I know.” She nods.

  I watch her go about her morning routine, something I’m not part of, and I realize right then I’m not part of any of their lives anymore. I’ve been home for two days and not a single person has wanted to see me except my mother. I have to admit I’m incredibly out of place and did this to myself, but it’s a strange moment as I watch the two of them. There’s parts of Sophie I remember. Like the way she bites the corner of her lip when she cuts up slices of banana or the way she shifts her weight to the left when she waits for her coffee to finish brewing. I know her in some ways but when I look to our son, someone who shares my DNA. I couldn’t tell you what his favorite toy is or even what makes him happy or what foods he likes.

  Rain pelts the back sliding glass door and Sophie frowns at the weather. “I have to run to the store. He’s out of diapers.”

  I look at Lyric, who has banana all over his face and avocados smashed between chubby fists. “I could go for you,” I offer, knowing I only have my bike and I’ll get soaked doing it, but I should offer, right?

  She smiles. It’s probably the nicest thing I’ve suggested in three years. She probably wonders what the fuck is wrong with me because I know I do right then.

  “Or you could come with us….”

  And it’s an invitation for more. Part of me doesn’t want to accept, but there’s a bigger part of me that wants to say yes.

  Something twists inside of me, a reminder of everything we’ve been through together and I feel warmth for the first time in years.

  “Or you could come with us….”

  He stares at me for the longest moment, silence suspended above us like the rainclouds outside.

  I’m sitting across from him and reach for the syrup. Our hands touch and I’m reluctant to remove my hand from warmth until he pulls away. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to find warmth where it no longer resides.

  For so long everyone wondered why I kept going back to Rawley after the way he treated me. The truth is, though that warmth had been long gone, I kept holding out hope if I gave him one more chance, I might find the boy who stole my heart, and he might see that I was still waiting for him.

  He never did, and I never saw that boy again.

  But finally, for the first time in years, I see the slightest flicker of him.

  He doesn’t answer me right away, and I think for a moment he regrets offering. I watch his chest, his breathing, looking for an indication he might, but it doesn’t come and he tips his head to the right. My eyes dart to his mouth. His lips part. “Do you want me to?”

  “I do,” I tell him, attempting to force air into my lungs. “I think you should spend some time with him.” Needing the distraction, I stand from the table and make my way over to the sink where there’s a wash cloth on the counter. I stare out at the backyard as I wait for the water to warm up and then run the cloth underneath the heated water.

  When it’s wet, I make my way over to Lyric to clean him up, tears stinging my eyes. I want so badly to shut off my emotions, but I can’t. Not now, maybe not ever with Rawley.

  As I wash off his breakfast from his hands, Lyric fusses a little. He hates baths and water on him. Loves to get messy but despises the clean-up process. The only time he ever cries is when I have to bath him or change his diaper.

  “Is that your Nissan in the driveway?” Rawley asks, standing from his place at the table. Behind him he reaches for his hoodie that’s draped over the chair next to him and pulls it over his head.

  I nod and reach for Lyric in his high chair. “I just need to get his jacket and my purse from upstairs.”

  The moment I have Lyric out of the chair, he practically lunges for Rawley. I struggle to hold onto him with both hands and luckily, Rawley’s quick enough to reach for him too and catches him.

  The sight of him holding our son is nearly too much and tears overflow. I don’t have time to say, “Hold him for a minute,” or anything before I rush upstairs to gather myself.

  From the moment Rawley arrived, I’ve been holding out hope that once he saw his son, something inside of him might change and he’d want to be a part of his life. And then I quickly realized this is Rawley Walker we’re talking about, and he doesn’t just change overnight. It takes time and maybe it’ll never happen.

  When he holds his son though, I see his resentment for me fading.

  With some calming breaths, I make it back downstairs to see Rawley has Lyric outside on the porch and out of the rain waiting for me.

  I hit the remote to my car. “I can put him in the car.”

  Rawley doesn’t look at me as he swallows hard, handing Lyric over. Lyric holds onto Rawley’s hoodie with a tight grip and whines as I attempt to take him. I should have known he’d want Rawley. He’s like that with men. Red and Tyler are his favorite people.

  Rawley chuckles. The low sound makes my heart flutter. “I can do it.”

  I’m kinda feeling like I’ve been replaced already and frown at my baby boy and kiss his cheeks. “You better still like me, kid.”
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  Rushing around the side of the car, I open the door for him so he can put Lyric in his seat and then I run to the driver side to avoid the rain that’s coming down in sheets.

  Rawley sets him in the seat but doesn’t buckle him and then gets in the passenger side and stares at me. “I don’t know how the buckles work,” he admits, running his hand over his drenched hair; water beads at the ends.

  “I’ll do it.” Turning around in the seat, I have to lean over the center console to buckle him up, but it’s hard when his seat is turned around backwards.

  I don’t think anything of it, but my ass is literally in Rawley’s face. Curiously I peek over my shoulder to see if he’s looking. I can’t tell. His head is down.

  Jesus, why do you care?

  “There you go, little man.”

  Turning around, I right myself in the seat and start the engine. That’s when my next embarrassment hits me. Rawley’s CD’s in my player and it’s kinda loud.

  He chuckles, his hand finding his hair again.

  “Lyric likes your music.”

  Oh my God, I sound so pathetic.

  “Uh huh.” He sees right through me; he always does. I can’t help but feel like some kind of stalker having the CD in my car.

  Without saying anything, I put the car in gear and head to the store. We remain silent, the sounds of the music and Lyric in the back shaking his rattle attached to his car seat the only sounds.

  It’s strange having Rawley in my car and even stranger trying to decide what this means. Yesterday he left me at the football field saying he was going to say something he regretted, yet twenty-four hours later, we’re going to the store together. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.

  JUST LIKE EVERY other time I take Lyric in public, he gains everyone’s attention. Maybe it’s the eyes that are like tiny wishing wells of hope, or maybe it’s the constant bright smile he wears. It’s rare to see him not smiling.

  Rawley notices everyone’s attention on him immediately, the way they stop and smile or give us a passing “awe” when he practices his wave on them. I think they notice Rawley too because not only is it a small town, but they remember him for who he was and who he is now.