Sacrifice The Knight: Checkmate, #6

by Finn, Emilia

  “Totally worth it.” As soon as the door closes and the locks audibly snick into place, I kick my shoes off and plop my feet on our new coffee table. Meg’s man is a woodworker by trade, and the moment they found out Zeke was a prick, Marc started building something fancy for us.

  Toss the prick onto this one, he whispered when he delivered it. It’ll hold up, and then you can pound on him some more without having to bend your back so much.

  It takes literally minutes after Mom and Eric leave for my phone to ding in my lap.

  Mom: everything okay?

  Laughing, I start typing while Benny flicks channels and slows on the music channel while Tori Kelly sings of love.

  I smack his leg. “Her hair is nice, huh?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Snorting, I finish replying to Mom: Yes. Nobody got arrested yet.

  Mom: Har-freakin-har. Be good, baby. I’m begging you.

  Eric: I trust you. Without condition, without doubt. I’ll get her a glass of wine the second we get inside. I’ll try and help her relax.

  Me: Not too relaxed, Cap! Don’t make me shoot you.

  Because I called Benny on his shit, he keeps moving past the music channel and ends up with the UFC. And because I made a promise to my mom, that’s what we do. We don’t move our asses; we don’t even order take out. I chug water to fight my sinus headache, and we enter a comatose state while we stare at the TV and our faces turn slack, so when my cell dings again around nine, I lazily pick it up and prepare to talk Mom off the ledge.

  It takes my switched-off brain a moment too long to process what I see.

  Zeke: I want to spend time with you.

  When I scoff, Ben surfaces from his hypnotism. “Your mom?”

  “No, my sperm donor.” I exit the text screen without replying and toss the phone by my leg. “Not interested.”

  “What’s he want?”

  I shrug. “Mostly to stress my mom out. But he calls it spending time with me.”

  “You gonna do it?”

  “Fuck no. It’s been nearly fifteen years. My mom busted her ass to make sure I was fed, and all he did was see how many women he could fuck over. I won’t disrespect her now when he wants to slide into my texts just because shit finally got easier. He can go fuck himself.”

  Ben’s eyes stay glued to the fights on TV, but he nods his approval. “I’m glad you said that. Anybody who ain’t around for the hard work doesn’t get the easy days. Fuck him.”

  “I like Eric,” I murmur. My phone dings again, but I ignore it. “I get why you freak about this shit, but Cap is good for my mom. You won’t convince me otherwise.”

  “I know.” He stretches lazily and makes sleepy grunting noises. “I like him too, but it’s our job to give them hell. I like Oz, too. Like, I legit love him, and if he died, I’d probably go to his funeral.”

  I snort and readjust my aching leg.

  “I think he’s perfect for my mom. But if I stop giving him hell, he might become complacent. If he forgets how amazing she is, then I’ll be forced to Hulk smash him. So I give him hell just to make sure he’s paying attention.”

  “Have you ever told him you love him?”

  He shrugs. “Couple times. But he’s smart enough not to bring it up.”

  My phone dings again, then once more. I’d love nothing more than to switch the damn thing off and walk away, but if Mom tries to call and the phone is off, no doubt SWAT will be slamming our door open. I don’t want to make Mom cry anymore, so I pick up my phone, but it’s not her.

  Zeke: Please, son. I swear I’m not here to hurt you or your mom. I genuinely want to see you.

  Zeke: It’s not like before. I promise. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. I’m not asking for custody or a sleepover. Maybe just a soda at Dixies or something? My treat.

  “His treat!” I laugh. “Fuck me, Zeke wants to treat me to ice cream.”

  “He’s ballin’,” Ben scoffs. “Jesus, you better let him know that he’s forgiven for everything he’s ever done wrong. Dixies’ ice cream works miracles. Halle-fuckin-lujah.”

  “Is that sarcasm? I’m not sure I’m reading your mood correctly.”

  He snorts and glances at my phone as I reply.

  Me: No. You ran when you were needed. Keep on runnin’. Straight past us. Straight past this town. Don’t come back.

  Zeke: Mac! You’re there. Just an hour of your time. Please. We’ll start with one single hour, and when you realize I’ve changed, maybe you’ll give me another next time.

  Me: Mom offered you time. A billion times over the years, she offered. She fuckin’ begged because she needed the help. But you weren’t there. If you wanna spend time with me, I’ll see you at the diner. You know where to find us; you know we’re always there, and if you’re man enough to face Mom, then you can sit with me for an hour. You don’t get shit all else from me. If you turn up there and hurt her in any way, I’ll show you what happens when I don’t stop fucking you up. I owe you nothing, Zeke. Absolutely nothing. And there’s nothing on this planet that’ll convince me you’ve become a better person.

  31

  Katrina

  I’m in love. I’m head over heels, this-is-exactly-what-I-warned-myself-about, stupidly, permanently, I-can’t-walk-away-from-it-now in love. And I can’t find it in myself to get mad about it.

  I thought our date under the stars was the epitome of perfect. And it was; it was wonderfully romantic and everything my teenaged self dreamt about. But last night…

  I feel like a Disney princess as I serve customers and sigh like an idiot.

  But I can’t help it.

  I can’t stop the way my heart jumps when I think of him. I can’t stop smiling when I think of our date, or better yet, the parts after our date when he very quietly, very pleasurably undressed me, and we had to remain absolutely silent or risk waking the boys. It was like a silent disco, but with lovemaking—with whispered words, with renewed promises, and with the peak of pleasure I wished I could scream about.

  Eric made love to me. He told me he loved me while he did it, and when I stepped over the ledge and floated back to Earth, he kissed my lips and swallowed my sighs.

  I never knew it could be like that. But then, I’m not sure it could be like that with any man who isn’t Eric.

  The clock has rung midnight; my carriage turned back into a pumpkin, and my dress is now an apron, but my prince is still here. He sits in a booth with my son while they talk algebra and giggle-snort over their milkshakes. Eric watches Mac with the kind of pride I’ve seen my daddy watch with. He helps him with homework I can’t even hope to understand. He laughs when Mac makes a joke, and smacks him when Sophia walks through the diner and my son stares a little too long.

  Staring at Sophia Solomon and challenging Jay Bishop for her attention just wouldn’t be good for his health. So Eric keeps him occupied until the stunning dancer leaves again, then shakes his head with a stupid smirk marking his face when Mac acts innocent.

  My world feels good. For the first time in… ever, everything feels good.

  I don’t mind driving a rotting pumpkin during the day, so long as I keep my guys. I don’t mind working hard or long hours, as long as I know who’s waiting for me at home.

  But, of course, like every school teacher knows her world is jinxed if someone mentions well-behaving children, just like every nurse knows her night is ruined if someone declares everything quiet, and just like every mom knows she’s about to find carnage when she discovers a Sharpie cap and a silent kid, I know it’s my own damn fault that the bell above the door jingles and brings with it bad news.

  I said my world is perfect, and now karma’s throwing her mighty hand down and smacking me for my arrogance when Zeke walks through with his shoulders bowed low.

  “Fuck. Mother bitch on a corn cob. Why me?” I whimper. “Why?”

  Eric spots Zeke first, because Eric sees everything, and he’s trained to watch doors. But Mac remains blissfully unaware an
d keeps working on his homework. Eric’s darkened eyes flicker across the diner in search of me. He defers to me because he knows this is my call. Everything to do with my son and Zeke is my call, so he doesn’t jump up and create a scene the way some of his friends might. He doesn’t alert Mac to his father’s presence. He only lifts a brow and glances between me and Zeke, ready to move, but not moving an inch until I give him the go ahead or Zeke makes a bad decision.

  “Katrina?” Stefan steps up behind me, silent as a panther despite his large size. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Give me a minute,” I answer. “He’s not stumbling or calling for attention, so I’ll speak with him. I’m done letting him tear everything up though, so I won’t be mad if Franky comes back out with that shotgun.”

  “Okay, sweet pea.” He squeezes my shoulder and flicks the burners off on the grill. Just in case. “I’m watching your back. Cap’s watching your front.”

  “I’m not scared of him.” I dry my hands on a towel and stand tall when Zeke’s eyes finally meet mine. They’re clear, which is rare. His hair is washed and clean, when it’s usually not. “I was never scared,” I continue on a murmur. “Bullies are nothing to be scared of.”

  I feel Eric’s gaze burning the side of my face. Stefan’s burns the back of my head. And Zeke’s burns his shoes. Stepping toward him and angling my body in a way that we’re kind of separate from the rest of the diners, I stop two feet away and lift a brow. “What do you want?”

  “To speak to my son.” His voice is husky and rough. It makes me wonder if he hasn’t spoken in a while. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Kat. I promise. I texted last night, and–”

  “You texted?” I interrupt. “Who did you text?”

  “Mac. I tex–”

  “You texted my son? You tried to go around me while I wasn’t at home?” And there’s goes my cover. My voice rises, and a scuffle behind me says that Mac has figured us out, and Eric is holding him back. “How dare you try to sneak in while I had my back turned!”

  “No, I didn’t know you weren’t at home.” He wrings his hands together and refuses to meet my gaze. “I didn’t know that until right now. I just wanted to talk to him, Kat. I want to make things right, so I asked for time with him. He basically told me where to go, and if I truly want to spend time with him, I could find him here at the diner, right in front of you.”

  I turn to my son with hurt blazing in my eyes. I shouldn’t be hurt. In fact, I should be elated that he deferred to me instead of sneaking out behind my back. But still, pain lances through my heart that they talked and I didn’t know about it. “Baby?”

  Mac pushes Eric’s hands off and digs his into his pocket. Pulling out the second-hand phone I gave him months ago so he could have a way to contact me whenever he wanted, he slides out of his booth and heads in my direction. He stops so his shoulder touches mine, then he passes the phone so his text chat is open.

  My son was honorable. He told the truth but didn’t get overly mean. He told Zeke to face me.

  And now Zeke is facing me.

  “I didn’t hide it from you, Mom. I just didn’t show you yet, since I never expected he’d actually show, and I didn’t wanna ruin your buzz so soon.”

  “Buzz?” Zeke’s eyes flicker between me and Mac. “What buzz?”

  “None of your busi–”

  “Mom’s dating someone good,” Mac speaks over me. “She found something you could never give her. She’s happy, and if you fuck with it, I’ll fuck you up.”

  “Mac.” I grab his arm and pull him back, but when my back brushes against a solid chest, I jump into the air in fright and spin. I find Eric standing in silence, his eyes narrowed, his chest large and filled with adrenaline. He stares at Zeke, but he makes no threats. He says nothing at all.

  “Him?” Zeke points. “Him? The guy you swore you weren’t fucking?”

  “He and I were nothing when you came in that time. I didn’t lie to you because lying would imply I give a shit about what you think.” Calmly, I shake my head and fold my arms. “I don’t hide from you, Zeke. And I’m not scared of you or your opinion. If you want to spend time with our son, it will not be while you’re swearing at me or in front of him. If you want to spend time with him, it’ll be done right here where I can watch. And if you text him again when I’m not around to monitor, I’ll go back to the police station and ask for that restraining order they suggested when you broke my door. I’m in charge here, and there’s nothing you can say or do that’ll convince anyone that Mac is better off with you. You have too many dings on your file. Too many arrests, too many charges, too many court dates.”

  He lifts his hands and takes a step back. “I’m not trying to take him, Kat. But I’d like to spend time with him. I swear I’m changed.”

  “But men don’t change,” I add in a bored tone. “Leopards don’t lose their spots, Zeke, they just cover them when it suits. And after so long, I highly doubt you’ve changed. Perhaps you’ve realized the amazingness you’re missing out on by not knowing him, but your foundations won’t have changed.”

  “Give me a chance,” he pleads. “Fully monitored time right here in front of you. I’m getting on, and I know I’ve wasted so much time on bullshit. My fuckin’ heir is sitting in this diner without his father in his life, and I know now that it’s all my own fault.”

  “He’s sitting in this diner, Zeke. But he has fathers here, too. So if you’re only here for the title, you can go.”

  “Him?” He points in Eric’s face. “You date for a week, and he’s calling him Daddy?”

  “No.” I cast a glance toward the kitchen, toward Stefan’s deep stare. To Franky, who stands behind Stefan. Then to Ray, who sits twelve or so feet from where we stand. Even Meg sits in a booth with her baby and her man, the one who takes Mac in and teaches him how to make a sweet jewelry box in the shape of a heart. “My baby has never been without a father figure, Zeke. We have Eric now, and we love him, but he’s not here so he can be my son’s daddy. We never needed a man. We choose him because we want him, but we don’t need him.”

  “You act like I’ve been replaced! You act like he was conceived without me.”

  I scoff. “He practically was. I wish he was. You’ve done nothing but drag us down since day one. I already said you could take a seat and hang out. I’m not stopping you from getting to know our son. But you’ll do it right here where his family can watch. Then maybe someday, when you’ve earned it, you can get ice cream without me watching.” Bravely, and for the first time since the first time, I reach out and touch his arm. “I want you to do better. I want you to see how amazing our son is. I want you to bask in his awesomeness. And as much as I don’t like you, you’re his father, so at least some of that awesomeness had to come from you. I want you guys to have a healthy relationship, but fourteen years is a long time, and at this point, it’s not about me and you. It’s about you and him.”

  It takes a few minutes, a few stops and starts, a whole heap of awkwardness, and Stefan’s strength to pry the shotgun from Franky’s grasp, but I stand at the hallway entry and watch my son and my ex try to bond over homework.

  My tables are covered, my customers the most understanding in the world; my boss has a deep hatred for my ex, but my boyfriend has pure adoration for everything I do.

  “That was really brave of you.” His arms rest around my hips, and his lips press to my temple. “I’m proud that you didn’t shove a pair of tongs up his ass and tell him to fuck off.”

  “Are you mad?”

  He jolts against my side and pulls back to catch my eyes. “Mad? Why?”

  “Because I didn’t tell my ex to fuck off. You’re kinda signing on for a lifetime of ex-boyfriend troubles.”

  “No.” He pulls me back in and folds his body around mine. “He’s smiling, babe. I could never be mad about something that makes Mac smile.”

  “He’s smiling because he’s roasting his own father with subtle jabs, and Zeke is too dumb to read
between the lines.”

  “I know.” Eric chuckles. “He’s so fuckin’ witty, it terrifies me. I’m not worried about Zeke. But I’m concerned about the lifetime of ‘you’re old’ roasting I’ll cop because your kid has no filter.”

  I turn in Eric’s arms and press my cheek to his heart. “Well…you were starting high school when I started kindergarten.”

  “Uh! Stop it!”

  32

  Eric

  “Mac!” I knock on his bedroom door for the third time in ten minutes. “Kid, you gotta get up or you’re gonna be late. Your mom’s blowing up my phone asking where you are.”

  “I’m coming.” Deep grunts come from inside his dark bedroom. It’s going on ten in the morning, but the curtains are still pulled closed, the lights out. “Time is it?”

  “Late! The early cards have already begun. You’re gonna be late for your own fight, dummy.”

  “Not late.” He tosses his blankets back and sits tall in the middle of his bed. Yawning and stretching his arms wide, joints pop, but his yawn turns to a grimace when he scratches a hand through his messy hair.

  Groaning, he trips to his feet in boxer shorts and long socks and stumbles past me into the hall. He closes the bathroom door with a slam, takes a piss and flips the shower on, and ten minutes later, he makes his way to the kitchen where I sit with a steaming mug of coffee and wait.

  “Your hair is still stupid.”

  He rolls his eyes and moves to the fridge to take out the carton of juice. “Shut the hell up, FuckWhit. You don’t get a say.”

  “Looks to me like you didn’t get a say, either. Your head get stuck in a weedwhacker?”

  “Shut up.” He slams a heavy fist against my shoulder so hard that the pain radiates through my old injury. “Stop talking about my hair. The girls think it’s sexy.”