FIVE
My son.I shake my head in disbelief as I stare at Chase sitting at the corner of the table. I’ve finally met my son. And he’s so fucking cute. All his adorable mannerisms and the way he talks and his excitement over every little thing. It all has me inwardly laughing as I study this part of me I didn’t know existed until a week ago. He’s like a miniature version of myself running around but with Echo’s sassy attitude.
He lifts his arms over his head, Pop-Tart in hand, and breaks it in half. Crumbs fall all over the high-chair contraption he’s seated in. I chuckle to myself, realizing the mess caught by the tray in front of him is why he’s not seated at the table yet, even though it looks like he’s outgrown it.
“You’re a mess maker, Chase.”
He gives me a cheeky grin and shoves a piece of the pastry into his mouth, bopping his head happily. “I yub Pop-Tawts. You eat, too,” he demands, pointing a chubby finger at me.
“Will do, man. I’m on it.” I open my mouth wide and take a big bite, making a show of chewing it as a cheesy grin spreads across my face. I want to laugh and cry and scream over how being with this kid makes me feel.
Pretty fucking sure Chase’s laughter can be heard throughout the house, and I don’t even care. He deserves to be happy. Every kid does.
We’ve hardly dug into our Pop-Tarts when Kara walks into the kitchen. It’s clear what’s on her mind as she steps behind Chase and mouths over his head, “How are you this morning?” Her face is pinched with worry, and it brings back all the bloody thoughts that had reigned supreme in my head last night.
I give her a small nod to indicate that I’m fine, but as I do it, my lips pull into a grim smile. My stomach churns uncomfortably as a vision of Beckham’s bed and the scene of the massacre enters my mind unbidden. As soon as I’d settled on Chase’s floor last night, it’d been there. The only thing that’d kept me from focusing on it first thing this morning had been waking up to Chase, and then the subsequent conversation with Echo. Crazy to think there would be anything at all that could pull my attention from the two of them. But there it is. Dead people at a frat party. Apparently, that’ll do it.
Who the fuck killed them? I don’t remember seeing anyone at all who didn’t belong at the party. It’s run through my head a time or two that they might have died while we were dragging Beckham up the stairs. If we had taken him directly to his room, would we have stopped it from happening? Or would we have been victims, too? I shudder hard despite the fact we’re all safe here. For now.
“Chase, you wanna go kick a ball in the backyard?” His eyes light up with a surprised look that reads Really? Can we? I glance at Kara. “He’s got a ball or something out there, right?”
“Yeah. All his outdoor toys are in the plastic chest to the right of the door.”
Drawing in a breath, I drum the table with my hands, which definitely grabs his attention. “Ready?”
He nods quickly. “Weady!”
I get up, leaving the rest of my Pop-Tart on the plate, and remove the tray from in front of him before eyeing him. “You wanna ride on my shoulders out there?” I suck in a breath.
“Yeah!”
Something happens to me when I pick him up, though. For several seconds, I crush him to me in a hug. He feels like mine. I feel myself getting choked up, so I exhale quickly before maneuvering his little body onto my shoulders. He squeals, grabbing at my hair with hands I probably should have wiped clean first, but whatever.
I open the patio door, being careful to duck as I exit, all while the little guy whoops with laughter. Time with my son is exactly what I fucking need. I’ll let him put crumb-coated hands in my hair, and I’ll play in the yard with him for as long as his little heart desires. I owe him that.
A half hour later,my eyes follow Chase as he screeches and runs after the child-size soccer ball, booting it with his foot toward the plastic goal. My lips twitch into a grin as it rolls ever so slowly toward the net, then finally goes in.
“Yes! Goal! Good job, Chase!”
He whirls around, a grin on his face as he toddles toward me. “Woyal! Yookit! Yook what I did!” He turns all the way around, pointing at the ball, then eagerly looks over his shoulder at me, a big grin plastered on his face, eyes shining with unfettered excitement.
“Come here, buddy!” I wave him toward me, and when he gets close enough, I lunge forward, snatching him off the ground to toss him into the air. He shrieks loud enough to blast out my eardrums, and I don’t give a shit. He’s happy to be with me and that has yet another grin stretching my cheeks. I toss him up again, catch him, then hoist him onto my shoulders. His chubby little hands are so small in mine. I jog slowly around the yard, making noises like the crowd is cheering for him. “Way to go, Chase! Nice footwork!”
He laughs his head off as we make a slow circle of the yard, then I pop him up over my head again and set him on his feet. He lifts his hands into the air, and races as fast as his little legs can carry him to retrieve the ball again. We’ve done this no less than ten times. I’ll do ten more, if it makes him happy.
All this running around fucking reminds me that I haven’t been for a run lately, and I’m in desperate need. I’ve gotta text Theo. Not only could I use the physical release a long run will give me, but the mental one, too. There’s simply too much shit going on to keep piling it up inside without talking about it. I’d be surprised if I pull my phone from the charger and don’t see a text from him. He follows local news, and while usually it’s a big fucking snooze fest, the moment word of a double homicide at a frat house gets out, it’ll be all over the news sites.
Chase has picked up the ball and is running in circles with it while looking up at the clouds in the sky. He’s going to get dizzy in a sec, I’m sure of it. “Chase! Put the ball down and kick it to me. I want to try to make a goal. Can I?”
He freezes in his tracks and quickly nods, doing as I’ve asked. I jog forward a few paces and kick the ball, driving it into the flimsy little net and knocking the whole thing over.
“Oops!” I run over and set it up again before rolling the ball on the grass toward Chase.
“Woyal stwong!” he shouts before taking off at a run again.
“Go figure you’d be out here trying to play fuckin’ daddy.”
My head whips toward Davis’s voice, then back to Chase to make sure he’s not paying attention. I don’t see the point in stirring anything up, but the guy clearly has issues with me. Fucker has a split personality, too—a doting brother one minute and a complete dickhead the next. I get it. He’d been distraught last night when he thought Echo was the reason for the police and rescue squad presence, that maybe it was her up there… hurt or worse.
And he’s right, it so easily could have been his sister whose life had been taken, so you’d think he’d pull his head out of his ass for her sake. For all we fucking know, Echo was the target and Freya got offed in her place. Of course, I kept that theory among Beckham, Wilder, and myself, not finding it anywhere near prudent or kind to point it out to Echo. In hindsight, I’m glad that was the decision we made; she’d had a hard enough time falling asleep as it was.
But this motherfucker. He’s going to taunt me about actually being here and spending time with my child after he was kept from me all this time? Not going to stand for that. I grind my teeth, my jaw twitching as Chase runs over to us. “Unca Davis, yook. Woyal play wit me.”
“Mm-hmm. I bet. Must be nice, huh?”
Chase’s face scrunches up in a happy smile as he nods, wrapping his arms around one of my legs. Thank fuck the almost three-year-old doesn’t easily pick up on the sly undertone coming from his asshole uncle, whose face definitely betrays his true feelings.
Sensing he’s not done, I pick my son up, pressing the side of his head to my chest and covering his other ear with my hand. “Go ahead, say what you want.”
His eyes bounce from my face to Chase, and he shakes his head, equal parts disgust and anger rolling off him in heavy waves. “You’re a fucking loser, and I wish my sister weren’t so goddamn blind.”
Gritting my teeth, my eyes flash, staring at my former best friend. I don’t know how I thought I ever knew him. He’s not the same person today as he was before I went to prison. In a quiet but determined voice, I point out a few things. “First, this whole idea you have that Echo doesn’t know her own mind? You’re being fucking stupid. That girl’s eyes are wide open. She sees and understands things that go right over your damn head.” I grimace as Chase begins to wriggle in my arms. Better get the rest out quickly. “You know, once upon a time, you had my back. We were close.” My jaw works to the side as I consider him. “You couldn’t even be bothered to find a way to tell me she was still pregnant. That she had the baby.”
Chase squirms until I set him down, then takes off after the ball, oblivious to the tension in the air.
With his nephew halfway across the yard, Davis uses it as an opportunity to step right up to my face and hiss out, “You’re upset I didn’t call you for a little prison chat? Well, which fuckin’ excuse do you want me to make first? The one about me not wanting a known killer to be around my nephew? Or”—he chuckles, a nasty sneer on his face—“the one where I didn’t want you anywhere near my underage sister you’d knocked up?” He grabs my shirt in his fists, then shoves me backward.
I huff out a rough chuckle, eyeing him. Motherfucker is lucky he caught me off guard with his words because he won’t get his hands on me by surprise like that again. My chest heaves as we stare each other down. “Too bad for you, I’m in her life now. And I don’t think there’s a word you could say that would change that. She’s mine. Always has been.”
Davis steps into my space again, his mouth twisting with displeasure. “Is that why you share her with your friends?” His chest rises and falls fast as his face flushes with anger. I stare at my ex-friend, meanness flowing freely from him, and I know in my heart things will never be the same between us. He harbors all this hate for me, and it’s simply too much to overcome. The guy is a raging lunatic. Anytime the two of us are forced to interact, things get ugly, and fast. But dammit, I wish there was a hint of my best friend that still resides inside him. I look into his eyes, and all I see is hatred. He even stood by and watched as I was sentenced to prison. Never said a word in my defense. How did I become this pariah overnight, someone so bad he wouldn’t want to have any contact with? I know my part in the accident is why I was sent away, but was me, his friend, falling for his sister such a horrific crime?
My brow arches as I study him. He’s about to blow. Quietly, I grit out, “You really want to discuss this right here?” Apparently, all it takes is an amused twitch of my lips, and Davis snaps.
“You fucker!” he shouts, throwing himself at me, all pissed off and fists swinging.
“Whoa! What the—?” Wilder dashes from the house, Beckham hot on his heels. I can’t take my eyes off Davis because I know from the experience that’s exactly when the asshole will throw a punch at my face, but I can tell my friends have quickly assessed the situation. Thank fuck they’re here because Chase darts toward us with the soccer ball. I don’t want him to understand that his uncle has gone off the damn deep end or be upset by what’s transpiring in the backyard he plays in. Wrestling with Davis, I breathe a sigh of relief when in my peripheral vision I see Beckham intercept Chase and scoop him up like he’s playing a game of airplane with him. Wilder stands at the ready, trying to judge if he should step in. “You can go inside. I’m good. If this asshole wants to go a round with me, I’m happy to take him up on it.”
Wilder shakes his head, holding up his hands. “Have at it, but I’m not leaving.” I follow the path his eyes travel to Beckham, who has just opened the patio door with a squealing Chase.
“It’s okay, little man. We’re going to have a Goldfish snack. You like those little fishy crackers, don’t ya? I saw some swimming around in the pantry.”
“Yeah!” Chase cheers and claps, and I almost laugh at his excitement, but unfortunately, Davis chooses that moment to rear back, then plow his shoulder into my sternum. It results in me stumbling a few steps, and I quickly regroup, throwing him to the wayside. He scrambles around, charging at me, and I decide to lean into it. Fuck him. I wasn’t going to hurt him, but he clearly doesn’t have the same thought. I catch him, and we tussle with each other, his swings wild where mine are controlled. Knocking him solidly on the chin, his teeth clack together. It enrages him, and he manages to clip my jaw. It’s enough to make me taste blood, which pisses me right the fuck off.
“Where’d you sleep last night, you dick?” he growls out, his breath heaving from him.
I catch Wilder’s oh, shit expression out of the corner of my eye, and I huff out an irritated chuckle. “Fuck you. You know nothing.” I stop to spit blood, then give him a feral grin, taunting. I’m sure my teeth coated in red makes me looking fuckin’ scary. I shake my head, wondering where this will stop, but I finally grit out, “Asshole, I was on the floor in Chase’s room to make sure he was protected from whatever psychos are roaming about.”
“Doesn’t make up for the years you weren’t there.” He cocks his arm and jabs, but I dodge, even as the fury builds inside me.
“Maybe I could have been more involved if I had known, fucker. So, we’re right back to the same argument. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I roar the last bit, and Davis rushes at me. We go down hard, rolling on the grass. Expletives fly as fast as our fists.
“Oh! Oh my god! Stop!” Katrina’s voice is like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head, memories of younger versions of ourselves in similar situations flooding my head, but unfortunately, it doesn’t stop Davis from trying to hit me. “Why aren’t you breaking this up?” She’s clearly addressing Wilder, though I’m focused on a struggling Davis who isn’t nearly as good on the ground as I am.
“Ma’am, no offense, but this was a long time coming.” I hear the approval in his voice as I slug Davis in the gut.
“Fuck,” he groans, gasping as air leaves his lungs.
I notice Rich motioning to his wife that she should take the kid inside as he’s gawking open-mouthed at the action. He’s the same young boy I’d seen in the family photo framed on Rich’s desk. She quickly corrals him and hurries into the house while Rich disappears from view. He’s not leaving, though. I assume he’s making his way from his backyard to ours and he’ll be here in three. Two. One.
And there he is, having let himself in through the gate at the side of the house. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll be able to do, and I sure as fuck can’t pay him much attention as I’ve finally maneuvered Davis into a headlock. “Fucking jailbird, get off me,” he wheezes, thrashing against me. He’ll figure out soon enough that his efforts will be for nothing. I’ve got him from behind, my legs locked around his torso with my elbow hooked at his neck. Slowly increasing pressure, I begin to close off his airway.
He tries to elbow me, to no avail. Finally, he taps at my arm, and the garbled sounds futilely coming from his mouth are likely words, but I don’t give a shit at the moment what he’s trying to say. Taking pity on him, I release my hold and shove him off me as Katrina comes into view, joining Rich. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the two of us. We’re sweaty and dirty, and I wouldn’t give a fuck if he wanted to go a few more rounds. I’d happily show Davis who he’s dealing with.
But the jackass doesn’t seem up for it. He lies on the ground, desperately dragging in huge gulps of air.
I stand up, bracing my hands on my hips and facing my former foster parents. People I thought were always going to be there for me… until they weren’t. Their appearance isn’t helping a single fucking bit.
“What if Chase had seen the two of you fighting like this?” Rich takes a deep breath, then shakes his head, glancing at the house. Beckham peers through the window, but Echo, Chase, and Kara are out of sight.
I point at Davis, swiping the back of my hand over my forehead. “Talk to him about that. Chase and I were kicking a soccer ball until dickhead, here, decided to stick his nose in it and tell me how he feels about me being around my son.”
My former foster parents exchange a look, but I no longer know them well enough to be certain what they’re thinking. Katrina hesitantly steps forward, reaching out to me as if she’s going to wipe my face. As if she’s going to act motherly toward me. “Royal, you’re bleeding.”
My heart clenches hard. Unable to handle the past hurts that are being dragged kicking and screaming to the surface, I take a step back, touching my tongue to the split in my lip where the warm blood oozes out, the metallic taste sharp in my mouth. “I’ll be fine.”
Seeing them again— I can’t.
“Honestly, what do you care?” I spit. “You want to know what a lot of the argument was about? The fact that no one told me I had a kid. Not Echo, not Davis, and certainly not the two of you. The people who were acting as my parents. I thought—” I clamp my mouth shut for a moment. It fuckin’ stings worse than my mouth does right now. “You didn’t even have the decency to help me during the trial. What the fuck was up with that? Would you have abandoned a biological child the same way?” I shake my head and back up another step. Fucked if I’ll allow them to see any more of the scars they’ve left me to deal with. It feels like bearing my soul to people who didn’t give a shit. If they weren’t there to help then, they sure as fuck don’t have the right to see me lose it now.
Rich sighs heavily, seeing the effect my words are having on his wife. He puts a hand on her shoulder, drawing her close. Reaching a hand up, Katrina delicately touches a few fingers to the corner of one eye. “Royal, we felt so guilty about how everything went down, we didn’t think you’d want to hear from us.”
“You could have made one little phone call to tell me the Maddens had moved away.” I pin a hard stare on both of them. “Go ahead, tell me you didn’t know Echo had a baby. Explain why I was getting no communication from anyone. I was alone.” Those last words are so fucking painful, I wish I could take them back. That’s impossible, and I realize as soon as I let them leave my mouth that they were like bullets to the hearts of these two people standing before me.
Rich has chosen to look off into the distance, while Katrina has partially covered her face with one hand. “Are you saying you got no correspondence at all?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It was fucking cruel, the way I was shoved aside by everyone I thought cared about me. Like I was a goddamn inconvenience.”
“Royal…” Katrina’s voice is tinged with heartache. “I don’t understand what happened. I want you to know that—” She stops, clearing her throat, her gaze darting to Davis, who’s just scrambled to his feet.
His face screwing into an ugly sneer, he mimics me, in a baby voice. “Aw, did no one care about you? You know what you did. You deserved all of it. And I still say, fuck you, Royal.” Stone-faced, Davis takes off around the side of the house. A moment later, his Mustang roars to life.
With a shake of her head, Katrina brings her attention back to me. “When we found someone we thought could help you, we reached out to them. We did what we could. You’re out early, so we assume it did help. I only wish we could have done more.”
“That was almost a year and a half ago.” My throat has grown thick. And I don’t know if I should continue, but fuck it. “I’d have aged out of the system by then, huh? The problem I’m having is that once I made a mistake, I wasn’t worthy of being your kid anymore. Not like we’d talked about. It would’ve been good if you had just fuckin’ told me instead of leaving me to wonder.”
A gasp from the doorway has my stomach plummeting. Echo stands there, shock apparent on her face. As our gazes connect, her teeth sink into her plump pink lip so hard the skin bleaches to a white color. Her eyes tell me everything. She feels responsible. Shit. Not what I’d intended. She wasn’t supposed to know about the potential adoption that got botched as a result of everything that transpired the night of the accident and afterward.
Katrina draws in a watery breath. “If I had thought you wanted to hear from us after your release, I’d have reached out. For what it’s worth, I’ve been watching your progress at KU. We both have.” She glances quickly at Rich while raising a hand to place over her heart, as if she’s trying to keep it from bursting out of her chest. “We didn’t forget about you. We could never.”
I swallow hard, unable to process what she’s saying to me because her current words don’t match up with her past actions. “I gotta go.” I spin on my heel and head toward the house. Echo takes a deep, gulping breath as I approach, but lets me pass by her to enter the house.
I come to a stop in the spacious kitchen where Beckham and Chase are at the table, hunkered down with a pile of colored Goldfish crackers. “Okay, now show me the red ones.”
Chase grins and slowly pushes red fish toward Beckham, who steals one and pops it into his mouth, making the little guy laugh. And a second later, he copies Beck’s idea, snatching up one for himself and shoving it into his mouth.
“Okay, now let’s count the rest. One. Two.”
“Tree!”
“That’s right, three. Four.” They keep going, and I don’t know what or how to feel, so I walk over and pull out a chair beside Chase. Clearing my throat, I put on a smiling face for my son that is fake as fuck, but fortunately, the only one who recognizes that fact is Beckham. Chase grins, his mouth full of a rainbow of fish that he hasn’t finished chewing, then picks one up, offering it to me.
Beckham watches me with concerned eyes. I don’t know how much he heard outside, but he definitely knows something is up. I give him an almost imperceptible nod. I’ll be okay. I just need a minute. Taking Chase’s little wrist so he can’t escape, I lean in and let him put the fish into my mouth.
“Woyal eat fishy!”
I chuckle. “Yep. You know what else Royal eats?”
He tilts his head to the side. He’s so fuckin’ cute when he’s confused.
“Fingers.” And then I dive in, pretending I’m going to gobble up his fingers.
The happy screeches he’s making and the smile on his face… it makes up for a lot and loosens the knot that’d tied itself up in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The door swings open again, and Wilder steps inside with Echo. Both of them take a moment to study the current situation.
“No eat my fingas, Woyal!” The kid is a quick learner, I let him put another cracker into my mouth, then quickly pulls his hand away, giggling.
Wilder’s dark eyes narrow, and he juts his chin in my direction as if to silently ask if I’m good.
I’ve only barely nodded when Echo comes up on my side, wrapping her arms around my neck and putting her lips near my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I turn my head, looking deep into her vibrant green eyes as I cup her cheek. “Not your fault, you hear me?”
“But—”
“No, Echo. I won’t allow you to keep blaming yourself for sh—” I glance cautiously at Chase who is stuffing a cracker into his mouth and watching us with trusting, wide eyes and listening with innocent not-quite three-year-old ears. I clear my throat and let our gazes lock again. “Stop blaming yourself for things that were never your fault.”