Eight - Rad
“Daddy!” a little frantic voice yells above me, drawing my eyes to her. “He’s dead!” she dramatically cries, laying her head on my chest. “No, wait! His heart is still here,” she says softly, wrapping her little arms around me and squeezing with all her might. “You’ll be okay, Daddy, I promise.”
“Daddy?” I groan, trying to regain my breath as her words register in my mind.
Daddy? Who the hell is she calling daddy? I’m no one’s daddy. I mean, Pretty Girl could call me that as I spank her ass. But, no. Fuck. She wouldn’t.
“Lyric,” River says softly, but I hear the concern laced there when she pulls her child off my chest. Grunting, I reach up and tear off my helmet, throwing it to the side. Fuck. My head pounds. “Hey, Rad. You okay?” she asks, gently running a finger down my cheek. Slowly her fingertips run down my chest, poking through a new hole produced by the fall in my shirt. I hiss, trying to slap her hand away, but my body doesn’t cooperate with me. “You took a hell of a spill.”
“Yeah,” I groan, sitting up and taking stock of my injuries. “I’m good.” The world spins in an array of colors when I go to stand, stumbling into River as she catches me and wraps her arm around me. Her fingers dig into my side as we take a few unsteady steps, wobbling on my jelly legs. She grunts, continuing to hold me up. “Fuck,” I hiss, trying to regain myself and pull away from her. She smells too damn good and fits too perfectly to my side. I can’t fall down this River rabbit hole again, because I know where it leads—to heartbreak.
See? My fucking head is all over the damn place.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she murmurs with a resigned sigh. “Come on, let me check you over before you go to sleep. Can’t have the talent dying before you even get started.”
“I’m fine, Pretty Girl,” I murmur, leaning into the warmth of her side.
A pounding headache roars through my brain as she drags me through the front door of her house and settles me into a chair situated in her spacious living room. I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose, pleading for the room to stop spinning before I puke. Fuck. My stomach churns, and a knot forms in my stomach when the sweet scent of River’s body wash hits my nose.
“You got some hellacious scratches, Rad,” River murmurs, poking at my aching back. I flinch away from her touch, and she sighs. “Want me to clean the wounds?” I nod without thinking, giving her permission.
“I got bandages!” says the little voice again from in front of me. “Mommy, I’ll help,” she says in a serious voice filled with determination. “Daddy needs them all over.”
“Ly, you and I need to have another discussion about running in front of cars and wandering off. You can help, but we’ll discuss this more later,” River sighs, tugging at the back of my shirt and lifting it to expose my back. “Do you want me to help?” she asks me cautiously in a soft voice.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” I murmur, secretly loving the way her fingers feel as they ghost over my aching flesh as she pulls my shirt over my head and places it over the arm of the chair.
I hope she sees the pain I etched into my back via lyrics and musical sheets. I hope she sees the agony I’ve lived in for the past five years inked into my flesh in the form of skulls, knives, and anguish.
“Barbie or fishes?” the little voice asks until I peel my aching eyes open and focus on the little beauty standing before me.
The world ceases to fucking turn, skidding to a halt as my eyes widen. My body weaves back and forth. I suck in much-needed oxygen, trying to clear my vision. Rubbing my eyes, I finally focus on the little River standing before me with her dark hair bordering between brown and jet black. She gives me a toothy grin, holding up two boxes of Band-Aids with colors swirling through them, obviously made for children. I blink a few times, staring into her eyes that look an awful lot like someone else’s who lives across the street.
“River,” I say in a low voice, leaning forward. My lips pop open in surprise. “Either I have a concussion, Pretty Girl. Or I’m staring into the eyes of…” I whip my head to her as she stands beside the chair, shaking her head with tight lips. I go to stand, but River pushes my shoulder down and frowns.
“I’ll get the alcohol,” she murmurs, stepping out of the room, muttering something about a fifth of vodka and needing something to drink.
I turn my attention back to the little girl standing in front of me and really take her in, feeling my chest cave in.
“You want fish, Daddy?” she asks, holding the box up. “You have a boo-boo right here,” she says, roughly poking her finger onto the spot on my forehead. “There’s blood,” she says with a frown, holding her little finger right in front of my eyes. “See?” she asks until I wrap my fingers around her wrist and inspect the small dot of blood soaking into her fingerprint.
“Fishes are fine,” I mumble, blinking rapidly at her as she pulls out a small Band-Aid, poking her tongue out until she’s huffing, trying to peel it open. “Here,” I say, taking the tiny piece from her and peeling back the paper. Her unmistakable mismatched eyes search my face, looking for more injuries. “What’s your name?” I whisper in awe of the little girl roughly sticking a Band-Aid on my forehead.
She frowns, pouting out her bottom lip. “You don’t know my name, either?”
“I’m sorry, Little Pretty Girl,” I whisper, shaking my aching head. “I hurt my head. I can’t remember right now. I totally know.” I try to give her my best smile, but she sighs, staring down at the ground. Her entire demeanor falls, and her shoulders sag in defeat.
“Mommy said my daddies weren’t ready to be daddies. But you don’t even know my name,” she murmurs, sniffling a little. “You don’t remember me. You don’t love me.”
Jesus Christ. Talk about someone reaching in and tearing your heart out. Only she’s itty bitty and holds my beating heart in her hand with just those simple words. My face falls as I try to recall if she’s said her name, but my goddamn brain rattles in my head. God. I haven’t taken a spill like that in years.
Reaching forward, I put my hands on her shoulders, forcing her eyes to meet mine. I swallow hard, staring into the eyes of my former best friend, and my stomach falls out of my ass.
“Your eyes,” I murmur in amazement. “You have such beautiful eyes.” The same brown spot located on the same side as Kieran’s twinkles back at me.
“It’s Lyric,” River says, coming back into the room with cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol. “And I didn’t know it could be hereditary. Apparently, genetics are a hell of a thing.”
My fingers tremble on her tiny shoulders, slightly shaking her. That’s all the damn confirmation I need to send my heart into a flutter. Question after question runs through my mind. Like how? Why didn’t she tell us? Fuck. What the hell happened after we left?
River had a kid—that I knew of as of yesterday, at least. But she had our kid—Kieran’s kid—and no one knew. Fuck. Fucking Kieran. That dog dick. His words from yesterday echo in my rattling mind, and I groan. I’m too injured to think this damn hard about anything. He knew. And he doesn’t give a shit about her.
I curl my fingers into fists and grind my teeth. Not only from the pain of the alcohol on my back but from Kieran’s betrayal, too. Even if River fucked us over, he has a living, breathing human with his DNA walking around, and he discarded her existence. For what? Fame? Fortune? The band?
“Lyric,” I confirm, turning back to the little girl, slowly wiping away the fat tears dripping down her cheeks. “Hi, Lyric. I’m Rad.”
Her little eyes narrow at me. “I know. You’re my daddy. Mommy said,” she says in a small voice, waving a hand at River, who stiffens beside me.
“Why don’t you give Daddy a little slack, Ly? He hit his head, remember? Always remember to wear a helmet. How about you cover his boo-boos in those bandages and make him feel better.” A sly smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as the scent of rubbing alcohol fills the air. “Might hurt a bit,” she murmurs before placing the cold as fuck alcohol on my stinging wound, which I don’t think she minds doing one bit. In fact, I hear a sadistic laugh from under her breath every time she cleans a wound.
I hiss through my clenched teeth, making Lyric smile as she pulls out a wad of bandages, and I know by the determined look in her eyes she’s about to punish me for not knowing her name by placing those brightly colored bandages filled with images of ocean life to my skin.
“So, Lyric,” I start, grunting when she climbs onto my lap and starts placing Band-Aids on certain spots on my jaw, cheek, and chest. “How old are you?”
“I’m four. Mrs. Harper is my teacher; she’s not very nice. Apple says she’s only mean ‘cuz she had to poop.” I snort at her story, cracking a smile as she continues rambling and placing three more Band-Aids on my face.
“Lyric,” River chastises, shaking her head with a laugh.
“Go on, Little Pretty Girl. Tell me all about Mrs. Harper and how mean she is,” I indulge her, fighting through the pain of River dotting my wounds with more alcohol.
“I’m in preschool,” Lyric says, poking her tongue out again when she sticks a Band-Aid right over my pierced nipple. Her nose crinkles. “Are you a robot?” she asks, touching it through the bandage with a scrunched-up face.
I chuckle. “Nah, Little Pretty Girl. It’s a piercing. Like this one,” I say, pointing to the septum piercing I’ve had for years. “And a few more.” Like hell am I telling a four-year-old there’s metal in places she’s not allowed to see below the belt. Only her mother would get that honor. If that ever happened again, that is.
Her little eyes light up, tearing the shadows away from my heart. If this is what happiness is, then I never want to leave. No matter what River did, this tiny human calls me daddy, and that’s all that matters to me.
“Mommy, I want my booby pierced, too. Just like Daddy,” Lyric says, causing River to choke on her own spit. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to cover the smile begging to emerge. This kid is something else.
“Jesus, Ly. No booby piercings for you. Where did you even hear that word?” She shakes her head, and a red tint spreads across her cheeks. “You have got to stop watching TV,” she murmurs to herself.
Lyric shrugs, looking over my face and chest with satisfaction. “All done!” she beams, wrapping her arms around me. Gently, she squeezes herself against me and pulls back, cupping my cheeks. “All better, Daddy,” she murmurs with furrowed brows. “Will you come see me again?” She blinks a few times.
“As long as your mom says it’s okay,” I whisper, pushing a few strands of her hair out of her face, and she lights up. “I’m right across the street now.”
“And my other daddies?” she whispers.
“All there,” I breathe without thinking about my words.
“Okay, Ly. I’m sorry. But it’s your bedtime. It’s ten-fifteen, and you, my love, need your beauty rest.” River offers her a hand, and she quickly takes it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Daddy,” she says with the biggest, heart-melting grin as they disappear behind the wall separating the living room from the rest of the house.
“See you,” I whisper, clamping my eyes shut, letting everything I’ve learned in the past forty-five minutes really sink in. I have so many questions for River and so few answers to go on.
My head still pounds when I stand from the chair, checking out the pictures lining the bookshelf near the fireplace across the room. Young River with baby Lyric in her arms, nestled in a hospital bed. Wet tears line River’s cheeks, but her smile lights up the damn picture.
“It was right after she was born,” River says, standing stiffly beside me. “I was two weeks overdue, and she refused to come. Longest day of my life,” she says, blowing out a breath. “Nine pounds, three ounces, and twenty-one inches long.”
“She’s amazing, Pretty Girl,” I rasp, trying to keep the brewing questions at bay when she sighs.
“She’s something else. She’s special,” she says, side-eyeing me with glossy eyes. “Just don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep. She’s four. She won’t understand when you walk away.”
“Whoa. Wait. Walk away? That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” I say, curling my hands into fists at her accusations.
She shrugs, wiping her face, and turns to leave the room. But I’m hot on her trail, shoving her gently against the wall. Her jaw tightens when I cage her in, trapping her body against mine. Fuck. The warmth of her breath feathers across my cheeks, and her heaving chest bumps into mine. Do not pop a chubby. And do not—Shit, I looked at her tits in her tiny sleep shirt. I shouldn’t have done that. I shake my head and tame the wild little Rad and reel myself in before I end up poking her in the stomach. Yeah, she’d chop little Rad off before she ever let that happen again. I happen to like my damn disco stick intact, thank you very much.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask, scrunching up my nose, refusing to acknowledge the burn tingling the tip. “Pretty Girl, we would have come back no matter what. I just…”
Every muscle in River’s body freezes. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blows out several controlled breaths until two small tears fall from her eyes, cascading down her reddened cheeks. Her fingers curl into fists, and her entire face scrunches angrily.
“You don’t still have a knife buried in your pajama pants, do you?” I quip, watching her hands like a hawk, so she doesn’t hold my balls hostage with her little knife. The River from before would most definitely kick my ass and stab me sideways with no regret.
She lets out a cruel laugh and shakes her head. “If I had my knife, you’d know,” she says, taking another ragged breath.
Well, thank fuck for that. I don’t need any more holes than I have in my body.
“It was two weeks after my mom died,” she confesses with stirring emotions, choking me up as much as her. With tear-filled eyes, she glares directly at me with a hardening stare. “Two fucking weeks, Rad. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of being thrown away like I was trash. If you had known, you’d have come back? Yeah right. You know what I did? I ran to Cal’s to tell you all that I had found out. I just wanted to talk to you and resolve whatever happened. But you were gone, and Gloria called you. And you fucking rejected my child. You said it was probably Van’s. And then…”
“Back up,” I say, holding up a finger and jumping headfirst into the past when we left Central City. Every word River spits in my face, my heart breaks a little bit more. “You said Gloria called us? When? She never called us or told us anything. As far as I know…” My brows furrow, thinking back to the time we left and the time we got here and won our music contract. She didn’t bother to call Kieran until after, and it was only to let him know about his stepdad. And that was a doozy of a call. Besides, he would have mentioned it to us, right? Fuck.
“She did it right in front of me. She said…” River closes her eyes, reliving the moment over again as if it’s dragging her under and drowning her. Pure emotions reach out from her soul when she opens her eyes, and the tears fall, squeezing my damn heart. No matter what happened between us, this moment broke her for eternity. “You guys didn’t want Lyric. And then she handed me four restraining orders, Ashton. So, what am I supposed to believe? Huh?”
I cringe at the sound of my first name, reeling back. Ashton. She only calls me Ashton when she’s upset with me or fucking me. But this time around, she’s pissed as hell. I’d rather get back to Rad.
Wait a minute… My lips pop open. “Restraining orders?” I question, furrowing my brows. My damn churning stomach drops. “What the hell is happening?” I groan, rubbing my fingers over my forehead as my headache continues to rattle around in my brain, putting pressure behind my damn eyes. Maybe I have a concussion after all. Is this shit even happening right now? Or am I hallucinating? Shit. I know I’m not. She’s breathing heavily against me, crying out in frustration I don’t understand. But I want to. Something about what she says doesn’t sit right with me. There are things not adding up. I’ll get to the bottom of it.
Just as I’m about to grill my Pretty Girl like a damn delicious steak and hash this out, the loud rumbling of a familiar motorcycle echoes from outside, rattling the windows. My heart drops.
“Fucking Cal,” I hiss, hanging my head at his totally discreet retreat. If he wanted to get out of here unnoticed, then he failed...miserably. So, fucking miserably I’m now missing the opportunity to have an important discussion.
“What the hell was that?” River asks, stiffening where she stands. Her eyes whip to mine and harden when I give her my best innocent smile, which isn’t very innocent looking. “Rad,” she barks with authority, pushing me back without a fight, and heads toward the window, peering through the blinds. “Is that Cal? Where is he going?” she asks as his lone headlight lights up her house and takes off down the mile-long road, where he’ll use his code to leave the premises. If he was trying to be sneaky about leaving, he fucking failed spectacularly. “Ashton,” she holds out my name like a damn song, and I lose all control of myself.
Blowing out a breath, I sigh. “He’s gone to fight.”
Her eyes widen, blinking several times. “I’m sorry. You said fight?” she asks skeptically. “Like...” She holds up her fists in a mock fight until I nod. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” I asked as softly as I can. “You broke us. When he saw…” I shake my head. “It’s not my place to tell his story.”
She snorts a humorless laugh. “Right. When I kissed Van and he saw? Maybe he should have been there ten minutes earlier when that fuck nugget pushed his way into my house. Didn’t you idiots ever think, I don’t know, to try and communicate with me about it? That asshole forced himself on me in my kitchen. Forced. Himself.” She punctuates every word with venom, punching the organ in my chest and pounding wildly.
I swallow hard, memories of her history prickling my mind. That stupid, wild party and the unpleasant night River and I shared. The moment I picked her broken body off the hard ground and put her in my car after her assault, and carried her into the hospital, always stayed with me. She was so small, so fucking broken then.
“What?” I ask, scrunching my brows. “He forced you? He…” He fucking took what he wanted, and she didn’t have a say in it.
“We’ll talk about this later,” she says, pulling out her phone and calling someone.
“Later?” I ask, stiffening. I want to continue this conversation, but fuck, if she thinks… “No. Fuck Cal. I want to talk about this right now, Pretty Girl,” I plead, cradling her jaw in my palm, trying to learn more about that night and about the entire situation.
“Yeah, later. You’re taking me to wherever Callum has run off to if you want to keep your contract.” She raises her brow and steps away from me, while bringing her phone to her ear and sighing. “I never thought I’d ever say this, but I need your help. Can you come over? Mhmm,” she mumbles and hangs up. “Let me put some clothes on, and then we’ll leave.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not only did I find out a whole stack of shit I had no clue about, but now I was about to take River into a fighting den full of angry assholes looking for a fight or pussy. Shit. I may not know all the information about what happened that night, and I’m getting the sneaking suspicion that someone is lying. And that someone is not her. But who?
A soft knock lands on the front door as River races down the hall, shoving her foot into a pair of worn sneakers. My eyes light up at the tight band shirt clinging to her chest and hugging her curvy sides. Tight jeans cling to her legs and fuck. If I could shape-shift into fabric, I’d be the denim between her thick thighs. Shit. Discreetly, I fix my dick who has a mind of his own. Asshole. That’s three times now he’s tried to show himself. But I guess when he smells the sweet pussy of his girl, he gets a little too excited.
“Hey, thanks for coming over,” she says in a soft voice, ushering someone in.
“Ash,” I say, stiffening when he meets my eyes.
“Your bike’s in the middle of the road,” he says, disregarding my greeting and avoiding my eyes. Bastard! He knew! He fucking knew! That’s why he said that shit to Kieran. Mother fucker.
“Yeah, I almost ran my kid over and had to bail,” I murmur, rubbing my chin. “You know, don’t you?”
“I know,” he says slowly, confirming.
“Only since yesterday. It’s amazing. So many people know. Now, you,” River demands, pointing a finger in my direction. “Take me to Cal. And you babysit, please. She’s sleeping soundly down the hall. She shouldn’t wake up. Just please don’t snoop,” she says, folding her hands together, and he nods.
“Anything for her,” he says in a low voice full of emotion. Swallowing hard, he continues to avoid my gaze.
“Perfect. Thanks. Now, Let’s roll.” She waves a hand, begging me to follow her out the front door, and I do once I grab my torn-up shirt.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Asher murmurs as I pass, staring straight into my eyes.
“Somethings not right, man,” I say softly, watching the shadows outside swallow River until she jumps into her SUV.
“Yeah,” he says, looking away. “You’re right. It’s not.”