Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Oh. My. God. How am I supposed to walk into that house? It doesn’t matter that we didn’t actually have sex, Riggs is going to assume we did—unless he doesn’t see me. Fat chance at that, though. I could climb through the window, but he’ll probably be sitting there with a bowl of popcorn waiting for me because the guy has cameras all over the place.

  This is bad.

  Oh, this is so friggin bad.

  “You’re cute when you freak out,” Eric comments, drawing my attention back to him. He winks at me before diverting his eyes back to his phone. His thumbs work quickly against the screen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Texting my cousin.”

  Now is hardly the time to catch up with family, and I’m just about to tell him that when his phone dings and a grin graces his handsome face.

  “Problem solved. Luca is going to come to pick us up and take us home. I’ll tell my dad the car had a flat, and that’s why we’re late.” He pauses. “Does your mom have a spare in the trunk?”

  I stare at him like he has six heads.

  He hardly drank, and he didn’t really smoke more than me.

  “Brook?”

  “How should I know if she has a spare? We don’t have a flat tire, Eric.”

  “We’re gonna once I let the air out.” He leans into me, brushing his lips over mine in a chaste kiss. “Hang tight, Luca will be here in ten minutes.”

  With that, he shrugs his jacket on and exits the car. I climb into the front seat and try to fix my hair. When Luca arrives, Eric opens the front door for me and leads me toward the GMC truck where we slide into the back seat. Once we’re situated, I notice Eric’s cousin isn’t alone. A girl with long brown hair turns around and introduces herself to me as Jacqueline.

  “What is she doing here?” Eric asks, looking from Jacqueline back to his cousin.

  “Nice to see you too, Eric,” Jacqueline says, rolling her eyes.

  I stare at her for a beat, noting she looks around the same age as me and Eric, maybe a little younger—beautiful though. With creamy olive skin, high cheekbones, and the darkest set of brown eyes I’ve ever seen. My eyes wander back to Luca. He’s a looker, too. Covered in tattoos, with slicked back dark hair and scruff lining his jaw, he appears much older than the girl who has her hand on his thigh. I bet there is an interesting story there.

  “You want a ride or not?” Luca growls.

  Ignoring him, Eric turns back to Jacqueline.

  “Does Blackie know you’re with him?”

  “Not your concern,” Luca fires back, meeting Eric’s perplexed gaze. “Doing you a solid right now, Cuz, it would be best if you showed some respect and kept that big fucking mouth of yours shut.”

  “May I blink?” Eric retorts and I elbow him. “Relax, Brook,” he says, draping his arm around my shoulders. “Luca knows I’m fucking with him.”

  Luca mutters a curse and turns back around. As he pulls away from the curb, Jacqueline turns the music on blast with her free hand. Luca takes the one resting on his thigh and laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to his lips and brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

  I turn to Eric and whisper, “Are they together?”

  “Together, no. But they’re something…”

  That spikes my curiosity even more, and I make a mental note to ask Eric all about his cousin and the pretty brunette next to him. You know…when they’re not in front of us.

  It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the house and before we enter, Eric instructs me to go through the back, promising to deal with Riggs while I go check in on my mom. Then, before we part ways, he pulls me behind the bushes lining the side of the house and gives me one more kiss.

  “Come to my room when you’re done?” he murmurs against my lips.

  “What about your dad?”

  “Leave him to me,” he says, giving my lips another peck. “Say you’ll come downstairs.”

  “I’ll come.”

  “Christ,” he growls, releasing. “Go or I just might throw you up against the wall after all.”

  I giggle softly before blowing him another kiss, then I make my way to the backyard and he goes to the front of the house. I dig my key out of my back pocket and fit it to the lock. As soon as I step inside, I creep down the hallway to my mom’s room. Reaching it, I hear Eric’s muffled voice and Riggs shouting at him.

  My heart plummets, but I force myself to trust Eric and I enter my mom’s room. She looks so peaceful, I hate to wake her, but as I kick off my shoes and climb into bed with her, the urge to tell her about my night outweighs everything else.

  “Mom,” I whisper, nudging her shoulder. She doesn’t wake at first, and for a second my heart skips a beat. I nudge her harder and a groan escapes her. Breathing a sigh of relief, I nestle closer.

  “Brook, baby,” she rasps groggily.

  “I’m sorry to wake you,” I tell her as she struggles to open her eyes and look at me.

  “Did you have a nice time?” she croaks.

  “I had the best time…mom…he kissed me. Eric kissed me,” I whisper, and a small smile flashes across her pale lips. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

  “Oh, my girl,” she whispers, closing her eyes.

  I pull my lip between my teeth and the excitement I was feeling only a moment ago fades when she doesn’t open her eyes again.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m happy for you, sweetie.”

  Something isn’t right, and it’s not because I woke her up. Her lips are blue. Her skin is grayer.

  “Mom! Look at me!”

  “I love you, Brooklyn.”

  No, no, no.

  Please, God, no.

  “Mom?”

  Fear slices through me, and I rise to my knees on the bed. I nudge her again, this time I’m not as gentle.

  “Open your eyes, Mom. Please. Don’t do this,” I shriek. My stomach twists in knots and bile rises to my throat.

  No, no, no.

  Please, God, no.

  She doesn’t open her eyes.

  She doesn’t say another word.

  I lay my head on her chest like I’ve done so many times before.

  I listen for the beat.

  Thump…thump…thump…

  I feel the rise of her chest as the air fills her lungs.

  Then she releases that breath and I feel the fall.

  I wait for it to repeat.

  I wait and I wait, but it never comes.

  Not another beat.

  Nor another breath.

  Sixteen

  Eric

  “So let me see if I got this straight,” my dad says as he widens his stance and crosses his arms. “You’re telling me the tires I just put on that car went flat and instead of calling me to come get you, you called Luca and neither of you two idiots could change the spare.”

  “Only one tire went flat,” I reply pointedly.

  No need for the man to get any crazier than he already is. I can just imagine the scenario he’s spinning in that head of his, he’s probably picturing the car on four bricks.

  “And you couldn’t change it,” he reiterates, clenching his jaw.

  Oh, look, there’s that vein again.

  “It was dark, and I didn’t have a flashlight.” It seems like a plausible excuse if you ask me. Now, can we wrap this up so I can go get my girl and get back to the kissing?

  Please and thank you.

  “Fine,” he hisses. “Let’s pretend I believe you. Explain why Brooklyn snuck in the back door.”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  No problem, Tiger King.

  “She felt bad about missing curfew and wasn’t sure how you’d react, so, me being the stand-up guy I am, I told her I would deal with you and she went to go check on her mom.” To really drive my point home, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the sleeve of condoms. Tossing them at him, I rise from the sofa. “Thanks for these, by the way. We didn’t really get around to using
them, but there’s always next time. Any other questions?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

  He brings his hands to his temples and starts to chant some of that namaste mumbo jumbo he thinks will bring him peace. I guess tranquility isn’t in the cards for him, though, because he lowers his hands and clenches his fists at his sides as he glares at me.

  “You got an answer for everything, don’t you?” he grumbles.

  I wish.

  An exasperated sigh leaves my lips and I shake my head. There’s no use in arguing with him. What’s that saying? You can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Well, word to the wise, you can’t teach an old self-proclaimed Tiger new tricks either. I go to walk away from him, but something keeps me rooted in place. I knew once I kissed Brooklyn, there would be no going back, that I’d want to make her mine in every way possible. I can’t do that if my dad is going to keep getting in my way.

  I didn’t mean to feel anything for her. All I wanted was to honor her dad and make sure I did right by her, but she wormed her way inside of me and took root to a part of my being I didn’t know existed. Now, I can’t turn those feelings off and after tonight, I don’t want to anymore.

  Turning around, I meet his gaze.

  Until recently he’s always been easy to talk to, the first person I turn to when I need advice. I know Brooklyn’s existence has thrown him for a loop because it’s thrown me too. Every emotion my father is experiencing, I’m feeling tenfold. The only thing that sets us apart is the fact I’m fucking crazy about her.

  “Actually, I’m just tired of all the rules and regulations you suddenly feel the urge to enforce. I know you feel some kind of way when it comes to Brooklyn, like opening our home to her and her mom and taking care of them both will somehow even the score between you and Bones. I get it, I swear I do. She means something to you, and I love that. I love that someone so important to me is so important to you, but you need to back off.”

  Biting the inside of his cheek, he draws his eyebrows together and studies me for a minute.

  “Someone so important to you,” he repeats.

  I nod.

  It’s true, and I’m realizing it has very little to do with who her dad was and everything to do with how she makes me feel. When a guy can’t give a shit less about hanging out with his friends and runs home because there’s a pretty little hurricane waiting for him and he realizes he’d rather spend his night watching a movie with her and her dying mother than chase any other girl, that shit speaks volumes. And when he kisses her and wonders how he lived seventeen years without her in his life, he fights anyone who stands in his way—even if that person is his dad.

  “This is crazy,” he hisses as he drags his fingers through his hair. “You can’t be talking like this.”

  “Why?” I question.

  What the fuck am I saying that’s so wrong?

  “You’re seventeen! You should be…I don’t know… fucking up your life, getting into trouble…robbing cars! Can we go back to that? I promise not to make you paint the fence this time.”

  I sigh.

  He doesn’t get it, which is a little messed up if you ask me considering him and my mom’s history. He’ll tell you himself she came into his life like a freight train.

  “You barely know her,” he resigns.

  Yeah, well, we all gotta start somewhere.

  “I know enough about her to know I want to know everything.”

  His eyes widen and he raises his hands like the maniac he is and shoves his index fingers into his ears.

  “Oh, God, make it stop,” he protests. “La-la-la-la. Can’t hear you. Ha! I really can’t hear you.”

  That’s because I’m not fucking talking.

  It’s a good thing too because just as I’m about to leave my dad to his tantrum, I hear Brooklyn scream. Without a second thought, I follow the sound and I realize she’s not screaming; she’s sobbing hysterically. My chest tightens as I race toward Joss’ room. I’m too panicked and too desperate to get to her to see if my dad is following, and when I reach the doorway of the bedroom, my breath hitches.

  My pretty little hurricane is laying across her mom’s body, sobbing hysterically. Not sure if it’s adrenaline or instinct that makes me move, I hurry to the side of the bed and swallow as I take in Joss’ very still body. Her lips are slightly open and though I’m sure she isn’t breathing, I press my fingers to the side of her neck.

  Nothing.

  We knew this was inevitable, but somehow, it’s still a shock. There are things you can never prepare for, and death is one of them. You can’t anticipate when it will happen or how you will feel or even how you will react.

  “Brooklyn,” I rasp, gently touching my hand to the back of her head. She doesn’t look at me, she just buries her face deeper into the crook of her mother’s neck.

  My dad rushes into the room.

  “What…” The rest of his sentences dies as his gaze settles on Joss and I watch as he grips the doorjamb to steady himself. He takes a minute to get his bearings and as soon as he does, his eyes find mine. “Go wake your mother.”

  My gaze wanders to Brooklyn and back to him. I’m not even sure if she realizes we’re in the room, but it doesn’t matter, I shake my head.

  Sorry, Dad, no can do.

  “I’m not leaving her,” I tell him, my tone hoarse.

  He stares at me for a beat, his face void of any emotion, then he looks back at the girl we both swore to protect, and he closes the distance between them. He touches a hand to Brooklyn’s back. He hesitates for a moment, looking torn, and then he leans over Brooklyn and lowers his lips to Joss’ forehead.

  “Rest easy, my friend. We got your girl,” he whispers hoarsely, and I watch as a tear slips from the corner of his eye. “Say, hello to my brother…”

  Another sob sounds from the back of Brooklyn’s throat as she lifts her head and looks at my dad.

  “She’s gone,” she wails. “She’s really gone.”

  My dad turns his head to meet Brooklyn’s gaze, lifting a hand to her cheek and I swear my heart breaks for the two of them.

  “She’s at peace,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “No more pain.”

  I watch as her shoulders shake violently as she looks back at her mom. Again, I’m fueled by instinct and before I realize what I’m doing, I take a seat on the edge of the bed and wrap my arms her. She goes lax against my chest.

  “I didn’t say goodbye,” she cries. “I didn’t say I love you either. She said it to me, and I didn’t say it back.”

  “It’s okay,” Dad assures. “She knows, Brook. I swear she knows.”

  “It happened so fast,” she reveals, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands. I tighten my arms around her and kiss the top of her head. “I…” Her voice fades and her body goes still in my arms as she jerks her head to glance up to my dad. “What do I do now?”

  His eyes find mine as he contemplates his answer, then he touches a hand to her cheek.

  “You let us make good on our promise to take care of you.”

  He looks at me and gives me a jerk of the chin.

  A silent command from him to me.

  Brooklyn’s body trembles in my arms as she starts to cry again, but my father’s eyes never leave mine. It’s almost as if he’s daring me to take a stand.

  To be a man of my word.

  To prove myself worthy.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I unwind my arms from Brooklyn’s body and slide off the bed. Sensing the loss, she lifts her tear streaked face and those eyes that call to every part of me, find mine. I lift my hands to her face and bend my head, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

  It’s a quick brush of my lips and as I lean away, I remind her of a truth I’m not sure she believes, “Such a pretty hurricane.”

  Then I take a stand and I tuck one arm under both of her legs and wind the other around her back. I lift her off her mom’s body and out of the bed. Crying, she winds her arms around my neck and I silen
tly vow to never let her go. These arms of mine may not hold her forever, but my heart won’t ever stop.

  Not now.

  Not ten years from now.

  Not ever.

  Seventeen

  Brooklyn

  My mom didn’t want a viewing, she said she didn’t want me to remember her in a coffin. At the time, I agreed with her. I wanted to remember my mom as the beautiful, vibrant woman who was once so full of life. I wanted to recall all the times she pushed me on the swings and raced me down the block. The times we played dress-up and the nights we stayed up watching our favorite movies. I wanted to erase the years of illness and the weeks of death.

  So, two days after I watched my mother draw her last breath, we had a small service at the cemetery. The priest prayed for her soul, and every biker that ever knew my dad laid a red rose on top of her coffin. My beautiful mom was laid to rest with the love of her life, my dad. They didn’t get their fair shot on earth, but maybe, just maybe, Bones welcomed her with a smile and if love truly burns eternally, I want to believe they’re dancing up in Heaven together.

  “Brooklyn? What are you doing in here?”

  I lift my gaze from the empty hospital bed and turn to find Lauren standing in the doorway. While mostly everyone else changed out of their funeral attire as soon as we got back to the house, she still wears the simple black dress she wore this morning to the service. I suppose that’s because everyone came back to the house after the funeral and she’s been running around, making sure everyone has a full plate at all times. Riggs says it’s an Italian thing, but I think it’s just a Lauren thing. She goes out of her way to make sure everyone in her house feels right at home.

  I point to the empty cardboard box I took from the garage and I shrug my shoulders.

  “I thought I’d get a head start on packing up my mom’s things,” I say, purposely not meeting her concerned gaze. “I’ll be going back to school next week and Bella is probably anxious to get her playroom back.”