Chapter 3 #2
There’s no sign of my cheeky, vicious, passionate, dark rock star.
Just a blank, hollow vessel, even as he navigates the shitty traffic with ease.
He doesn’t cuss anyone out either, even when he gets cut off and has to swerve to save his paintwork.
I know nothing about cars, except that they all love them, and Blaise has never been one to hold back from running his mouth.
What the ever-loving fuck has happened to him?
The longer I wait him out, the longer the silence stretches and I break before he does. “How can I fix this?”
Glancing over at me, his eyes are dull. “You can’t. No one can.”
I hate that answer even more than not knowing, but I nod, hesitating a little before resting my hand on his thigh. I’m not being an asshole and trying to distract him with some heavy petting, but I make sure my hand is high enough on his thigh that it’s more than a friendly gesture.
When we arrive at the gates, I pass him the spare sensor to open them.
He doesn’t move to roll down his window, just stares down at the little plastic sphere like I’ve handed him a Rubik’s cube but every side is the same color.
I stay quiet, reminding myself that sometimes you just have to be patient and wait these things out, but that only leaves room for the panic to set in about what fresh hell is headed our way.
“My mom’s pregnant.”
Huh.
Not at all what I was expecting.
It’s actually so different to the nightmares my brain was starting to spin that I sort of blank out and can’t figure out what to say to him, or how to even feel about this news because… a new sibling? That never even hit my radar as a potential issue, let alone as a crisis.
He squints down at my hands, unblinking but his voice is steady.
“She’s pretty far along, too, they both just kept it from me.
My father told me they’ve given up on me ever growing up.
He said that they’d thought my shitty grades were a rebellion or a sign I was too spoiled and lazy to have any drive, but now they know I’m just retarded.
His exact words, not mine. They even went to a fertility specialist to make sure they would have another boy to replace me.
The second he’s born, my father is writing me out of his estate. ”
The monotone sound of his voice and the complete lack of cussing has me worried, but there’s something else driving the unease hitting my bloodstream; he’s right.
All of my methods to ‘fix’ this involve violence or, at the very least, extortion.
I always knew he had a complicated relationship with his family, his music makes that perfectly clear if you listen closely enough, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.
That’s probably pretty telling, but on me, because even after seeing the fallout from Annabelle’s manipulative tactics to get him back, I thought that maybe calling your kid and screaming down the phone at them could still be done by a ‘good parent’.
Fuck, if money doesn’t promise you the breathing space to love your kid right, then maybe I’m not such a pessimist. Maybe there are no decent people in the world and this has all been some fairy tale I’ve told myself to get through each day.
Blaise doesn’t look back at me, his face still blank and his tone still the type of level that makes me want to scream, but there’s a thread of something else in his voice as he continues.
“I don’t care about the money, I have enough of my own, and I never wanted to take over his business anyway.
If they told me all of this before I knew about the baby, I would’ve just walked away from them both and been done with them but…
my mom asked me not to go back for the school breaks this year.
She’s always been the one to insist I go, even when I wanted to tour or hang out with the others.
Now she’s telling me I’m not welcome, and I overheard her and my dad talking about keeping my bad influence away from the baby.
I’m going to have a brother I’m not allowed to know because I’m too fucking stupid to be who my father wants me to be. ”
I can’t keep listening to this without stepping in.
Not even a little, not from the guy who gave up parties and fun so he could study three nights a week to get his grades up for the miserable excuse of a father who’s brainwashed him with this load of crap.
I might not know much about life, but I’ve watched Blaise stand with his friends even if it risks his reputation and his career, and I’ve seen him go toe-to-toe with Joey when he threatens someone he loves, and I think that makes him a fucking great human being, someone his dad should be proud of.
Maybe if it were someone else, I could hear the self-loathing stream of consciousness that comes from shitty parenting without stepping in, but not from the guy who charmed me, apologized to me with playlists, poems, sketches, and sweet words.
The guy who saved my life with his songs years before we even met by giving me an escape and a light for the darkest nights I had to survive.
I grab his hand until our fingers are curled together around the sensor, his hand warm under mine, even with the fine tremble there where he’s barely holding himself together.
“Listen to me, there’s plenty we can do about this.
We can’t fix it, or your parents and their shitty fucking attitudes, but we can make it impossible for them to keep you away from your brother.
Don’t even think about it anymore, I will fix it.
You’re not stupid. I’m the best person to judge that, I’ve spent hours doing assignments with you.
You’re not what he wants but that doesn’t make you less than him.
I’ve met a lot of shitty people, Blaise, I’ve had to deal with a fuck-ton of stupid, cruel, self-absorbed people, and you’re worth so much more than what he wants from you. You don’t owe them anything.”
His hand shakes a little in mine and then he gives me the tiniest of nods.
“No spending blood diamonds on me, Mounty. I’m not worth it.”
I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat, but my voice still comes out a little thready.
“You’re worth more than my diamonds. I’m planning on spending every single one of them on us.
On our family, the one that actually counts.
Even if… even if this is all a temporary thing for you guys, it’s still worth it for me. ”
His head snaps over to me so quickly I would’ve startled if I weren’t back in the Bay, the Wolf lingering in the back of my mind like a shield.
His eyes are wild and fierce, even as they narrow dangerously at me.
“This is not fucking temporary. Not for me, not for Ash or Harley, and not for you. I know we have a hell of a lot to make up for, but I’m going to do whatever it takes to do that. Don’t ever say that shit again.”
Blood rushing to my cheeks, the words I wish I could reply with are lodged in my throat along with my heart, so all I can do is nod back to him.
After losing ten years of my life watching him park the Maserati in the garage beside the Mustang with a gut-wrenching irreverence that only Blaise fucking Morrison could get away with, I help carry his bags into the townhouse, muttering mulishly under my breath when we find Harley out cold on the recliner.
We stash them behind the couch with the others, though it’s a tight squeeze and I’m sure it’ll end up one giant pile of clothing that’s basically a free-for-all.
There isn’t a whole lot of room left, and unless Avery has done a complete one-eighty with her packing habits, we’re going to be in serious danger of bursting at the seams once the twins get here.
I can hardly believe I’m saying this, but I probably should’ve gotten a bigger house.
If that doesn’t tell you how much my life has changed since last year, nothing will, because this place is huge compared to my last rental.
There are only a handful of Mounts Bay neighborhoods that I would even consider staying in, and when I picked the best one, I did it with everyone else in mind.
This place was the smallest available and when I first arrived, I thought it was way too big.
Blaise shoots me a questioning look about Harley’s very obviously hungover state, but I honestly can’t think of anything worse than rehashing our fight right now.
My stomach rumbles dramatically before I get the chance to feel too awkward about the mess we’re in, so I take the out, throwing Ash’s sweater on as I head into the kitchen.
After looking around the place for a minute, Blaise sits on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, looking a little less void-like but still too fucking morose for my liking.
Instead of trying to cheer him up, I give him some space, opting to make Mac ‘n’ Cheese because, clearly, some comfort food is in order.
Harley doesn’t wake up, even with all our noise, so once I get the dish into the oven, I go and check to make sure the asshole hasn’t choked on his own tongue.
When I bitch him out under my breath again, more savagely than I usually do in my worry, Blaise’s lips finally twitch upwards a little.
I dish up, setting a plate in the fridge for Harley, then I drag the blanket off our bed to wrap Blaise and I up in while we sit on the couch together to eat.
Granted, I have to drop the thermostat down to ridiculous temperatures, but it’s worth it when Blaise finally slings an arm around me as we dig in.
He messes around with the TV until he finds one of those god-fucking-awful movies he loves so much, and I enjoy our little bubble after weeks of missing him.
“What’s the deal with Arbour? He never gets a hangover, he must’ve gotten fucking wasted,” Blaise mumbles after he’s inhaled the pasta like a starving man.