Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
King
Let this be a lesson to us all. For all activities without clothing, protection is a must. If Rosie hadn’t been wearing the helmet, she’d have cracked her skull open like an egg, as is evidenced by the deep divot the rocky ground punched into the protective gear.
She’s quite lucky to be alive, though she has scratches and bruises enough.
“This could have been your brain. You must be more careful.” I hand the helmet back to her.
She pokes her arm out of the blanket Aven brought down from the camp and takes it from me. Grim sits beside her on the back of a UTV driven by Gary. Ice Pick sits up front beside him.
“Are y’all holding on tight?” Ice Pick asks them. “Don’t want either of you taking another tumble. If you break a leg, we’ll have to shoot you.”
“I think that’s horses,” Gary whispers.
Grim wraps his arm around Rose’s shoulder. “Please carry us back to our sleeping quarters. We are quite tired now.”
Leave it to Grim to break the frame on an expensive piece of equipment and then demand he be ferried back to bed. I can’t be bothered to deal with that ATV either. I have much more pressing matters to attend to.
While I still have the courage, I’m going to come clean to Josie before another second can pass me by. Once she knows the truth, she can help me come up with a way to help my children understand.
Granted, I must make Josie understand first, but I have to believe she will. It’s been at least an hour since we parted ways, so she’s surely finished shitting her brains out and showering off the stink.
My nose hairs recoil when I recall that acrid aroma. For such a delicate flower, she sure can clear a room.
And yet, even knowing that choosing Josie is choosing a lifetime of stepping into the bathroom after that, I still find myself eager to get to the next step after telling her the truth about who I am. I’m eager to tell her that I love her.
It will have to wait a little longer, though.
Aven starts toward me. The look in his eyes is one I know well. He’s been dwelling on something solo long enough, and he’s in need of a sounding board.
I push my hands into my pockets and match his stride as he reaches me. We continue up the hill together.
“What’s troubling you? And don’t pretend you’re okay. You’ve been stood off to the side the entire time Gary and Ice Pick were loading them onto the cart, and you’ve hardly said two words.”
“I rarely do.” He turns his head and spits. “I’m not what you’d call a Chatty Kathy.”
“It isn’t weak to talk about your troubles, if that’s what you fear.”
“Not afraid.”
“So you are troubled, then?” I’ve snared him.
Aven stops walking. I halt and turn, facing him but keeping space between us. Men like him need space in times like these.
“I had a vasectomy shortly after Quinn and I were married. I figured since I never had a role model, it was best. I wouldn’t know how to be a da because no one ever knew how to be one for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He scoffs and shoves his hands into his pockets. He takes a deep breath and looks into the night sky. “No need for apologies from you. It wasn’t you who destroyed a family by sleeping with another man’s wife and leaving him to raise the psychotic little bastard.”
“You know that’s not the whole of it.”
“Yeah. He was shooting blanks. She wanted a kid. I know. I fucking know, King. Doesn’t change shite, though, does it? It still destroyed my family. I’m still a bastard.”
“You were wanted.”
“By my mother, yes, and look how I repaid her. Oh, I turned into a fine young man. Got her killed and everything.”
I look down at the earth and gather my thoughts. This isn’t about a vasectomy or his legitimacy. This is something deeper. My feet move forward, and I place my hand on his shoulder before he can back away.
“What’s this really about? I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”
He jerks his shoulder out of my grasp and starts walking again. “It’s nothing, pal. Thanks for the talk, though. Sorry I’m not much good at it.”
I stand still and let him get a few paces ahead of me before I carry on behind him.
Whenever he’s ready to share, he will. I just hope it happens before we reach California.
He’s the most closed-off of the four siblings, and I’ve made the least amount of progress with him.
I’ve yet to find a way through, and I’m running out of time.
Once we’re back through the secret passage, he breaks right, and I go left. Adrenaline pushes me forward and quickens my pace. I’m either heading toward the punishment or the prize, and I won’t know which until I shed this secret.
I stop walking. I’ve just let a golden opportunity slip through my fingers. If I wanted Aven to share something with me, I should have shared something with him. Instead, I just let him walk on.
But Josie . . .
Maybe Jim’s right. Maybe I really am losing focus.
Realistically, Josie is the least likely to kill me once she learns the truth.
Aven is the most. Even if I didn’t give a shit about bonding with the young man, I want to improve my odds of survival.
But as luck would have it, I also care about connecting with my son, so I turn around and jog to catch up with him before he reaches his RV.
Aven passes a beer to me. We sit on a flat rock tucked away in the darkness.
Some of the others gather around a small campfire nearby.
Everyone else had the same idea as Josie and myself, planning to stay up all night and sleep through the heat of the day in preparation for the night drive into Nevada.
When I told Josie I needed to have a word with Aven, she assured me she would be just fine by herself for a bit longer.
I tucked her in with a heating pad, a ginger ale, and a book of word searches.
She’ll likely nod off, but that’s okay. We can have our talk another time.
My discussion with Aven might ensure more time for talking post trip.
I convinced him to have a chat by saying that I needed some advice myself.
In reality, I do. Of my three sons, Aven and I are most alike when it comes to the romance department.
We never really envisioned ourselves as men to be possessed by any woman.
He’s made peace with this unforeseen turn of events, and perhaps he has some words of wisdom.
If nothing else, maybe I can get him talking.
“I’ll just get right to it,” I say. “When did you know you couldn’t live without her?”
Aven’s head rears back. “What’s this all about now? I figured you wanted to talk favorite hobbies, not romance.”
“I see a lot of myself in you, and I just want to know how you’ve made it work. I mean, the sex is—"
He holds up his hand. “I’m with the other lads. I dinnae feel comfortable hearing about your sex life. You’re more like my da than my own da.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” He drops his hand and looks at the stragglers sitting by the fire. “That’s what’s been bugging me.”
There it is. We got around to it quicker than I thought we might.
“It’s normal to seek attachments when—”
“No, that’s not it,” he says with a shake of his head. He looks down at the beer in his hands, then takes a long pull from the silver can. “I feel like a whingy little toddler for even feeling this way.”
“What way?”
“That you connect more with the others than you do with me. We’ve all adopted you as our patriarch, even the ones who aren’t Carters. Hell, even Ice Pick was talking about changing his name to Chad King because he feels closer to you than his family.”
“He believes that’s my surname?”
Aven chuckles against his will. “I’m serious, King. I feel like I showed up so much later than everyone else. You already knew Frankie from work and everyone else from these retreats. Hell, Jim is like a fucking brother to you. The two of you go back to childhood, don’t you?”
“Teenage years,” I say. “Quite a long time.”
“And then there’s me. I’ve been around for a few months, and you don’t really know much more about me now than you did then.”
I take a swig of the beer and set it on the rock. “Your birthday is May fifth. When you were seven years old, you won a poetry contest by plagiarizing Dr. Seuss. You enjoy olives on your sub sandwiches, but never on your pizza.”
He finally looks at me. “That other shit is probably in your files. How’d you know that bit about the olives, though?”
I shrug. “I pay much closer attention than you realize.”
“I feel like an ass,” Aven says.
“Don’t. If anything, you’ve made me feel quite a bit more important than I’ve any right to feel. That’s a feat when I already feel so important all the time.”
That brings a proper laugh out of him.
“You’ve made all of us proud, and I’m the first to admit I’m glad we’ve brought you into the fold,” I say. “I’m sorry I haven’t made that clear enough.”
A weight rises off my chest as I bring the cool, crisp beer to my lips again. I don’t usually drink the stuff, but it fit the occasion.
Maybe it’s the beer buzz getting to me, but I’m feeling a little lightheaded with joy. I wasn’t sure I could get Aven to come around, but it’s looking better by the minute.
Bennett gives us a wave, and Aven waves back.
“Do you think Ezra and Bennett would let me slit our dad’s throat when we finally meet him?”
I’ll keep working on him.
Ice Pick motions us over. Aven declines, instead choosing to hurry back to Quinn’s arms, but since Josie’s probably fast asleep, I see no harm in staying a bit longer. With my beer in hand, I stroll over and take a seat by the fire.
Eve yawns and stretches her arms above her head. Cat does the same. Bennett, Ice Pick, and Blayne sit on the other side of the flames. A guitar rests over Blayne’s knees, and I have a mental image of me smashing it over his head. Repeatedly.
Smoke curls toward my face, and I try to duck out of the way. The cloying wisp follows my every move. I give up and accept defeat as it burns my corneas.
“You gonna finish that beer?” Ice Pick asks.
I shake my head, lean forward, and hand it off. He knocks it back and finishes it in three gulps. Then he lets out a belch that rattles my eardrums. Eve applauds.
“If you aren’t gonna play anything, let me see that guitar.” Bennett flicks his fingers toward Blayne, but the curly-haired Decepticon readies the instrument instead of passing it on.
“Any requests?” he asks. He glances around the group until his eyes land on me. “How about ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’? Or maybe Everclear is more your speed. Anyone know ‘Father of Mine’?”
My blood runs cold. Songs about absentee fathers—what the fuck does Blayne think he knows?
“Those sound pretty lame, Blayne. I don’t know neither one of them.” Ice Pick belches again. “How about some Nickelback?”
Oh, Jesus wept. He would like Nickelback.
“I have a request,” I say, and Blayne’s gaze flicks back to me. “What was that song by The Cars? It’s slipped my mind . . .” I tap my chin, but he already knows where I’m going with this. “Oh! I remember. Do you happen to know ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’?”
He strums the first few chords, though I can’t say I care for the twang of his acoustic.
“Come on, King. Let’s see if you can stump me with one I don’t know.” Blayne grins, and to everyone else, I’m sure he looks like a charming young man. I see the snake for what he is. That grin is all malice.
“On second thought, I think I’m ready to turn in. If you’ll excuse me.” I stand and turn to leave, but Blayne’s voice stops me from taking the first step.
“How ’bout a wager? I’ll bet my great grandmother’s ring you can’t stump me with a song I can’t play.”
Blast.
“And if you win?” I turn to face him again.
“If I win, I get bragging rights.”
My eyebrow rises.
“What do you say? You in?” Blayne stands and reaches across the fire with an outstretched hand.
Bennett pokes the fire, and a log lets out a hiss. “Don’t do it, King. This kid’s head is big enough already.”
Eve and Cat agree with him. Ice Pick stays quiet.
I reach over the flames and take his hand. “Let’s start with something easy.”