Seventeen - Kieran
“Knight!” River’s small voice pulls me out of my reprieve as she runs over to me with her arms spread wide.
A small laugh escapes me when she bounds into me, knocking me over into the grass, flat on my back.
“What’s up, Blue?” I chuckle, righting us, so we’re sitting side-by-side on the hill behind our apartment building.
Something about these stolen moments with my Blue cements my need for her. Nothing on this planet will ever compare to our rendezvous. Not my guitar. Or my favorite chocolate bar. This is it for me; I feel it in my bones.
She giggles, staring at the guitar beside me, and shrugs. “I just missed you today. Where were you?”
Kicked out. My mom didn’t want me anywhere near the apartment today but didn’t have enough sense to get me on the bus for school. Or even dress me properly before she gave me the boot. In only a T-shirt and jeans, the only other things I had time to grab when she yanked me by my shirt collar were my guitar and a pair of socks. My stomach rumbles violently from missing not only breakfast but lunch. Hours ago, I ventured back to my apartment door and knocked, hoping my mother would at least have enough sense to feed me, but she didn’t. That man answered the door with his shirt off and a scowl, telling me to get lost. I’m sure I’ll hear about my indiscretions later.
“I missed you, too, Blue. Mom has someone important over. She says he might be my new dad soon.” I shrug, hoping it’s not true. He may have gifted me a guitar, but I see how he looks at me with disdain.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” she asks with a quivering lip. Tears pool in her big, green eyes, and I swear my heart breaks from one look.
“Never,” I murmur, picking up my guitar. “Want to hear my new song?” I ask, strumming the strings and humming under my breath.
“Yes!” she shrieks with excitement. “Play me a song, Knight.”
I grunt, slamming my fists into the hanging bag over and over until my raw knuckles bleed. Red pours down my arms in tiny droplets, but I don’t fucking stop. I revel in the pain, washing away the happy memories pouring through the black box I locked them in. My only happy times as a kid were with River on that hill and my guitar on my knee. I didn’t know how to play, but the internet was a hell of a teacher. Slowly but surely, I figured it out and played River song after song. Then we left Central City for greener pastures with the man who not only ruined and controlled my life but my mother’s, too. Sometimes I wonder why the fuck she jumped into bed with him and stole my fucking life from me.
Fuck. Her. Fuck River. Fuck. This. Fuck. Everything.
Why did it have to be her? Why? It could have been anyone else on the West’s payroll, but it just had to be River fucking West. The once love of my damn life, and now…
I shake my head, dispelling the tumultuous thoughts banging around in my mind. The need to walk away from this entire situation sits heavy on my chest as I continue to pound into the bag with all my might, forcing myself to fucking forget everything—even how to breathe.
When I stop my frantic jabs, black spots dance in my vision, numbing the rage and pain eating away at me. Leaning my forehead against the bag, I suck in oxygen, refueling my body until the world returns to focus. Slumping down onto the mat, I lay on my back, staring at the tall ceiling.
Whoever built this house knew exactly what they were doing. A full-sized gym with every piece of equipment possible surrounds me. And in the next room, a full-blown recording studio taunts me, begging me to create new music, and digitally immortalize it for the world to hear. If fucking only.
Not only does my dick refuse to work around other chicks, the moment River numbed my heart—the music fucking died inside me. Like she sucked the spark from my damn soul and stole that shit from me. I curl my aching fingers into fists and snarl at the fucking ceiling for the millionth time in the past week. A helpless feeling of being stuck in the damn mud, unable to take control of my destiny, creeps up my spine.
I huff, turning to my side and forcing myself to stand on my jelly legs. Looking at my smartwatch, I stop the timer at precisely two hours. Blowing out a breath, I bask in the momentary reprieve this session has given me. My mind quiets for one bliss-filled moment, and serenity runs through my veins. Right now, it’s as if I never laid eyes on River West and had my soul stomped out, only to return to her years later and have to follow her orders.
“Fuck,” I grumble, stumbling toward the white towels dangling from a rack attached to the wall.
Wiping the sweat from my face, I smack my lips, desperately seeking the water I forgot to grab before disappearing. Every inch of me aches deliciously as I trudge up the steps into the brightly lit kitchen heated with the sun’s rays. It’s like walking out of my damn casket and into the real world. When I entered the basement two hours ago, the sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon. And now, the new day is here—Sunday. A day of nothing but working out and taking it easy before the reality of our new week begins, band practices, and our early morning therapy sessions.
Over the past few days, the guys have already started to fall into her bullshit. Again. They’re falling into her fucking honey trap and gravitating toward everything she says, like lost little puppy dogs with big heart eyes. It fucking disgusts me. How can they do that? After everything that she put us through.
Fuck. Despite the grueling work out this morning, my head is still a damn mess. Sure, I momentarily distracted myself from the bullshit happening. But the pain never truly leaves. Every time she walks into the house, she rips open another scab and exposes my wounds.
This entire situation has been one fucked up, long nightmare, and there’s no way out. Believe me, I’ve checked every day. My agent has been searching this entire week, hoping to bring me good updates about another prospect. But nothing has come of it. According to her, I should stick to my contract, even though we could void it by walking out and starting somewhere new.
Stick it out? Yeah right. She has no idea what I’m up against. When I walked away, I walked the fuck away. Endpoint. Nothing was going to bring me back to the woman who crushed my heart in the palm of her hand. So, thanks, cruel world, for plopping me smack dab in the middle of this shipwreck with no lifeboat in sight. I’m fucking drowning in rage, pain, and the constant memories holding me captive. One day, I’ll be able to break the surface and breathe again.
Nothing in this world could make me forgive River West for what she did. That fucking video lives in the deep confines of my head, reminding me to never again fuck around with relationships. Women, yes. Well, fuck—kind of. If my dick would fucking cooperate. It’s like he’s holding out on me for someone I refuse to let him have. Fuck him.
My fingers curl into fists when I step further into the kitchen and rest my head against the cool metal of the fridge. I heave a breath, trying to shove down the emotions River always brings up. I’ve locked that shit up for so many years with success. Now, here it is again, trying to ooze out of me. I would rather swallow my emotions and let the numbness take me over than feel what I felt for her.
Taking a deep breath, I ground myself to the now. Fuck my brain. Fuck my thoughts. As I listen to the sounds around me, I note the others must still be asleep. Like hell do they get up early and fight invisible demons at the gym like me. Not that I get up fucking early. Ever. But today was different. A calling clawed through my ribs and pulled me toward the gym so early in the goddamn morning.
Thud. Thud.
My face scrunches when a small scratching sound comes from somewhere in the house, followed by a small, strangled cry.
“What the hell?” I mutter, pushing off the fridge and looking around for the source of the sound. “Better not be a goddamn rat,” I grumble, cautiously walking toward the sound.
The more I walk away from the kitchen, the louder it gets, seeming to come from the large living room.
“Help!” a little voice calls, making my heart slam in my fucking chest. “Please, Daddies!” It comes again through sobs.
That’s when I realize it isn’t scratching coming from anywhere. It’s light pounding coming from the front door.
A million thoughts race through my mind when I march toward the front door, catching more words from the tiny voice on the other side.
“Help! Mommy is dead!” The tiny voice cracks with emotions, sniffling behind the front door. “Daddy!” the voice calls frantically, sounding more urgent than before. The pounding continuously beats against the wood until I’m standing right in front of it with my brows furrowed in confusion.
Daddy? There’s no one’s dad here. Unless one of these idiots knocked up some chick and decided not to tell anyone. Fuck. What a dick move that’d be. I don’t care who the chick is. I’d never abandon my child like my dad left me high and dry.
“Fuck,” I shake my head, throwing the door open, and freeze at the sight of her.
A beautiful little girl with fat tears rolling down her cheeks and a white bunny clutched to her chest shivers outside my front door. Her eyes screwed shut as she sniffles on her bunny’s head.
“Hey, little girl. Are you okay?” My hoarse voice falls from my lips in a soothing tone, grabbing her attention.
I swear all the oxygen in my lungs ceases to exist when she looks up at me, cries even harder, and launches herself at me. Her little face buries into my thighs as she sobs harder, clinging to me for dear life.
Panic ensues inside me. What the hell do I do? If this were my little sister, I’d scoop her up and soothe all her pain. But I don’t have a fucking clue who this is or why she’s at my damn door. Almost instinctively, my protective side roars to the surface, and I run my fingers through her long, dark locks in a soothing manner, getting snagged on the knots.
“Hey, little girl? Are you okay?” My voice softens as I crouch down, pulling her from my leg and cupping her cheeks in my palms. “What’s going on?” I ask again, earning a small hiccup in return.
“My mommy. She-she, I-I can’t get her to move. My mommy is dead,” she wails again, squeezing her eyes shut and trembling beneath my hands.
My heart skips a beat as I take her in, noting the similarities between her and River. Fuck. Her long, dark hair with tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose. Little pajamas hang loosely around her body; hell, she’s not even wearing shoes. But where else could she be from? We all know River has a kid, but I never expected to see her standing shoeless outside my front door with tears falling from her eyes.
“Your mommy is River?” I ask as my eyes roam over her face, memorizing the shape of her nose and the pout of her quivering lips.
Time stands still when River’s daughter blinks open her moisture-filled eyes, hiccuping in my grip. Oxygen evades me. My fucking head spins. Something primal and deep inside me snaps into place when her eyes connect with mine, full of terror and sadness. She quivers in my grip, nodding vigorously in confirmation.
More tears stream out of her identical mismatched eyes, falling down her small chin and dripping on me. Her wetness coats my flesh as those big, hurt eyes flash with disappointment, taking in every inch of me, too. Dipping down my chest and arms, she silently notes the tattoos etched into my flesh. She doesn’t spare a second, gripping my wrist and trying to yank me across the street.
But I’m too stunned to move. Her tiny words don’t register in my damn walnut brain as I process the fucking situation. River had a baby four years ago. She wasn’t Van’s like Gloria had claimed. This beautiful little girl standing before me is one hundred percent my flesh and blood.
This little girl isn’t just a spitting image of River. She has my fucking eyes. My. Fucking. Eyes. Something my goddamn dad passed down to me before he bailed to pursue music. How fucking ironic. There’s no goddamn way that’s some sort of coincidence. You don’t just show up with these eyes and not have similar DNA. It’s an anomaly. Yet, here she is, looking at me.
There’s no goddamn way.
This can’t be fucking happening right now.
No.
A tidal wave of guilt crashes over my head, pulling me into the depths of the turbulent waves. My muscles jump under my skin, begging me to make a move. An itchiness spreads across my flesh, stretching too damn thin. I run a hand through my hair, digging into my scalp as the memories of my father resurface.
“Where’s Daddy?” I whisper, staring out the window of our home. Longing clings to every inch of me. He’s been gone for way too long. He said he had to work. And the sun is down.
Mother scoffs, gripping a beer bottle. “He’s never coming back,” she mutters coldly, staring at the wall with glossy eyes.
He’s never fucking coming back. Is that how my little girl felt? Does that run through her mind, too? Late at night as she stares at the white ceiling with hope dwindling day by day that she’ll ever see her father again. If he’ll ever walk through the door with a smile, saying he was joking about leaving? That he’d never do that to his family and perpetuate the hurt?
I abandoned my child like my father did to me.
I fucking did that!
Holy fucking shit. The walls close in on me. Oxygen refuses to refill my empty lungs. When did the air become so damn thick?
Fuck! When–
“Daddy,” she whispers with urgency, knocking me out of my own damning thoughts. “I think my mommy is dead,” she says more calmly now, tugging at my wrist again with all her strength. “Please,” she begs, yanking again until I’m on my stumbling feet and dumbly following her out onto the step.
“Wait,” I struggle to say through the tightening of my throat. “Fuck,” I rasp, collapsing to my knees again. My limbs tingle like damn Jell-O has replaced my bones, sending me spiraling to the ground. “You’re…” I jerk my hand from her grasp, blindly gripping her cherub cheeks. Moisture burns behind my eyes when I really look her over again. “Mine,” I mutter with a heavy tongue. She’s too young to confirm or deny my ramblings. It’s something I’ll have to discuss with the fucking corpse she keeps talking about. Fuck! River.
“Daddy,” she wails again, tugging at my arm. I shake my head, trying to knock the fog from my brain, processing all her words.
“Hey, whoa. Lyric!” Rad says, breathlessly running through the open front door with a pale face, falling to his knees beside me. “What are you doing here, Little Pretty Girl? And why are you crying? Did big, mean Kieran make you cry?” Rad asks with a low tone, tinged with unveiled anger.
I swallow hard, watching helplessly as she runs into his arms. Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she cries harder, taking comfort in him. Jealousy rushes through me. I clench my damn jaw, wishing I was the warmth that brought her salvation. Instead of him.
“What did you do?” he hisses, narrowing his eyes at me with such venom I have to shove away all the damn hurt and anger.
Mostly, it’s the questions resting on the tip of my numb tongue that beg to come out. I swallow them all, ready to unleash them at the right time. Not now. Not when River is possibly in danger. Adrenaline spikes in my system. I push to my feet, glaring down at him as I march away with determination leading the way.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t do anything. She was pounding on our door…” I shout over my shoulder and curl my fists at my side. “Doesn’t fucking matter. Something is wrong with River.”
“Fuck!” Rad huffs, climbing to his feet with her in his arms still. “What’s wrong with your mommy, Little Pretty Girl?” he huffs, hoisting her further up his body as we quickly walk toward the house that now seems like a damn mile away.
Oh, how I ache to comfort her like a father should and make all the pain leave her. From here on out, I’ll give her anything she desires. I’ll never be my fucking father, sending a few post cards here and there. But he never really fucking cared. He rode off into the sunset with his guitar strapped to his back and a dream on his mind.
Sounds so damn familiar. God.
“My mommy is dead!” she sniffs again, shaking her head with a renewed sense of sadness clinging to her voice.
“Dead? Tell me what’s going on, Little Pretty Girl. Tell daddy what is going on,” he says, emphasizing daddy and glaring at me like I have any idea what’s happening.
I cock my head to the side when he says the word daddy. Daddy? What in the ever-living fuck is going on in this house? Why is he daddy? My face twists into an unmasked expression, flushing the color from my face.
Something in my spooked expression must give me away as Rad soothes the little girl, pumping his skinny legs harder toward River’s house.
Turning his gaze to me, he cocks his head to the side and gives me a tight grin. “Welcome aboard, Daddy Kieran. Fucking finally. Now, apparently, River is dying, so we should probably go save her,” Rad says with urgency, waving me along as I blindly follow right behind him, staring at the little girl in his arms with longing.
It’s ridiculous to feel so much toward someone I met two seconds ago on my front step. But it’s all there. A ball of feelings formed in my tight chest and squeezed out my breath. So many fucking questions beg to unleash as a sliver of denial hits me square in my stomach.
“Rad, what the hell is going on? Why does she… Who is her…” My heavy tongue is barely able to work as we slam through River’s unlocked front door, loudly entering the pristine home. “Tell me what I’m thinking isn’t the truth. Tell me that this is...” Because if it’s true. Then I’m a piece of fucking shit. I walked out. I left her.
Without ever knowing she existed.
Rad turns sharply on his heel in the middle of the living room with a scowl. The little girl clutches tighter to him, whimpering like she’s known him for years. Has he? Fuck. My heart pounds like a drum against my ribs as so many thoughts go through my mind. I knew River had a fucking kid. I knew because of Gloria… Gloria fucking knew and fucked up my entire life. She fucking…
I grip my hair tightly, pulling at the roots. My brain goes in a thousand different directions, leading me back to the same damn conclusion; Gloria somehow lied to me and led me astray. She used my vulnerability against me when I was at my lowest and manipulated me into thinking that, for some reason, River’s baby was Van’s. Shit. The phone call I received so many years ago plays in my mind on a constant loop.
The beautiful scenery of the large bluffs overlooking the blue ocean, my phone vibrates on my side table. I groan when it displays the name of the last person I ever wanted to speak to again. It’s bad enough that growing up she was the world’s worst mother, but the second the boys and I won, she called me and begged me for some money. With reluctance, I answer the phone, inwardly groaning at the lecture I’m sure I’m about to receive.
“Hello?”
“Kieran, so lovely to hear your voice again,” Gloria sings through the phone with a cheerful hint to her tone.
“Sure, I guess. What’s going on?” I ask, getting straight to the damn point.
“Well, I’m fine! Thanks for asking. Everything is settling so well since you boys left. Nigel has been on a business trip for the past week, and it’s been so quiet around here. I’ve missed you so,” she says through a wistful sigh. I’m sure not missing my ass at all.
“That’s good to hear,” I grunt, plopping down on the edge of my new king-sized bed. “So, why the call? It’s been a few weeks.”
“Well,” she huffs out a laugh. “You’ll never guess who got herself knocked up!”
“Hopefully not you,” I grunt, cringing at the thought.
“Heavens, no! A few days ago, I got a little visit from someone you used to know. You know, that cheating whore you ran from.”
I physically recoil from the phone, almost throwing it across the room. My mouth instantly dries as my gut tightens at the news.
“She-she…”
“Yes. She came sniffing around looking for you boys, claiming she was pregnant by one of you. Don’t worry, though. I got her to confess it’s Van’s. Can you believe that? She tried to pin it on you four! What a lying slut she is.” Gloria rambles on and on about River until I clear my throat.
“So, she’s pregnant by Van?” I ask hoarsely, squeezing my eyes shut. It’s bad enough she fucked him behind our backs. But this? Getting pregnant by the dickhead is the ultimate fuck you to us.
“Yes,” Gloria sniffs. “It appears so.” She talks more, but her words move like sludge through my ears, drowning out her annoying voice.
“Okay, bye,” I mumble, not bothering to listen to her goodbye.
Through my stunned daze, my phone slips from my fingers, landing with a thud on the ground. Whatever effect the shocking news has on me knocks me out of my stupor. Uncontrollable rage storms through my system, turning my vision a dark shade of red. My nostrils flare as everything Gloria said settles heavily on my chest, caving it in. Through my fit of anger, I march toward my old guitar leaning against the wall—the same one I wooed River with so many years before. Everything blurs around me. Sound stops. My feelings cease to exist.
Before I know what’s happening, my long fingers wrap around the long end of my guitar. The only sound that fills the room besides my pounding heart is splintering wood crashing against the hardwood floors. Over and fucking over, I smash it to pieces, basking in the destruction of my once precious guitar.
I stand tall with a heaving chest, keeping the news of River’s pregnancy to myself. No one marches into my room to check on me because the distance between my brothers and I have hit a fever pitch for the past few weeks. A black void has split between us, making us strangers more than brothers. Callum barely talks. Rad is chasing anything with an ass. And Asher has folded in on himself, remaining quiet and calm—nothing like the man I knew two months ago. But I know something is distracting him into silence. I’ve never seen him like this before.
At that moment, I vow to myself never to fall into the grips of another woman and let her ruin them or me ever again. Pussy, sure. But a full-blown relationship? Fuck that. The last one I had exploded in my face.
I swallow hard, shoving that awful memory into the back of my mind, bringing me back to the situation at hand. River is off somewhere dying, and I’ve come face to face with our daughter, the little girl who magically resembles us.
A perfect damn mix.
Fucking hell, this can’t be real. Is this real? Is this little person with my eyes really standing before me? My heart thumps wildly against my damn ribs.
“This is River’s daughter, Lyric.” A pained expression crosses Rad’s face as he looks down at her and shakes his head. “And by the look on your face, you’ve already guessed that. You’re pale, Bro. Are you finally figuring out that you’re a damn dad? That you purposefully… That you goddamn… Fuck.” Shaking his head, Rad squeezes his eyes shut. Anger swims across his down-turned features until he blows a breath and smothers it away. “We’ll have to talk about this later, so we’re not in front of little ears.”
“But you swears a lot, Daddy,” she murmurs through a sniffle, wiping her nose along Rad’s shirt.
Rad stiffens. “Fuck! I mean. You’re right, Little Pretty Girl. I’m sorry.” She nods, sniffling again.
His words crash into me like a wave, taking me under. Momentarily, it’s hard to suck in oxygen, and my lips pop open. Over and over, his words repeatedly play until they finally fucking stick in my brain. I’m a fucking father. A dad. Shit. The walls close around me as my panic rises and sweat glistens over my flesh. My chest fucking tightens like thick rubber bands constricting the oxygen from my body, and I’m only saved by the heady amounts of adrenaline shooting through my system. Deep breaths, idiot. I can’t freak out now. There’s too much going on to fall down the rabbit hole of realizations. Wiping a hand down my face, I erase everything going haywire in my body and numb it. The time for panic is later, not now.