Build

by Gillian Archer

  My fist swung and crashed into Nate’s cheek. Then it was pandemonium. Muffled thuds and curses as barstools crashed to the ground when Nathan swung back and then we were wrestling on the kitchen floor. I got in a few punches and so did he before our brothers separated us. Dylan drug a protesting Nathan to the other side of the room.

  “You need to shut your fucking mouth.” I pointed an angry finger at a still struggling Nathan. “The only one who doesn’t know dick around here is you.”

  “Not exactly my fault is it?” Nathan twisted his head and spat a bloody mixture onto the hardwood floor. “Because—like always—when you couldn’t handle shit, you bailed. It would’ve been nice to know what the fuck is going on. I’m the last one to find out—after you, Dylan, and your piece of ass over there.”

  Ryan snorted. “Not the last one to know.”

  I strained against Ryan’s hands holding me back. “You call her that one more time! I fucking dare you.”

  “I’m out of here.” Nathan shouted as he pushed away from Dylan’s restraining hands then stomped away.

  Blue jumped up from under the table and paced anxiously to my side.

  “Well that was awkward,” Ryan drawled.

  “Not funny.” I swung back to the doorway where Rachel had been standing only to find it empty. “Where’s Rachel?”

  Ryan hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “She bailed once the fists started flying.”

  “Shit.” I ran for the window, but her car was long gone. I rubbed a hand over my head. I had no idea how to go about finding her now. I didn’t have her number. Or her last name. Fuck.

  I swung back around and pointed a finger at my other asshole brother. “You’re gonna regret this, Dylan. Men like George don’t fucking change. He’s gonna burn you one way or another once he gets out. I just hope you haven’t torn up this family anymore before you realize who he fucking really is.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s gonna regret this.” Dylan shook his head. “We only get one father in this life, and he’s ours. If you go ahead with this lawsuit or whatever… It’s a mistake, Austin. Give him a chance.”

  “I wasn’t in the room when he killed her because I grabbed all of you and hid in my bedroom closet. So, I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I hear it every time I try to sleep. The thud of his fists. Her cries. Him yelling. That fucking gunshot. I will never forget.” My eyes sheened with tears, but I didn’t give a fuck. “Mom’s the one who deserves another chance, but that’s never gonna happen because he fucking killed her. He doesn’t deserve shit from me.”

  Dylan shook his head and walked out.

  I let out a shuddering sigh. That hadn’t gone even remotely the way I thought it would, at all. “What do you think Ryan? Or have you been secretly visiting him in prison too?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Dylan was too little to remember Mom. So am I. He only knows the stories you’ve told him. And we don’t talk about George. Ever. I don’t blame Dyl for being curious.”

  “It’s bullshit.”

  Ryan hitched a shoulder. “It’s family.”

  Didn’t I fucking know it. I rubbed at the ache developing between my temples. “So where do you stand? I know Nathan is in for the shit with the lawyer and obviously Dylan isn’t. Do you want your name on it?”

  “I don’t want to choose sides.”

  That was Ryan. When he wasn’t causing his own trouble, he was busy keeping us from fighting with each other.

  “I know, bro. But I need to know if I should include your name. Our attorney will need to know.”

  Ryan pushed away from the countertop he’d been leaning against. “Can I take some time to think about it?”

  “Yeah. Just not too much. I want to get rolling on this by the end of the week. We need to have all our ducks in a row before that bastard gets his first breath of fresh air.”

  Ryan nodded stiffly then left with his shoulders bent and hands stuffed in his pockets. I had no idea which way he was leaning. He’d only been a year older than Dylan when Mom died, three years old to Dylan’s two. Neither one of them had their own memories of Mom. Or Dad. But even so, I couldn’t imagine why they would want the first thing to do with that bastard. He’d stolen everything from us. He didn’t deserve one goddamn thing from us now.

  Avoiding my annoying, stubborn family, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. When I opened the door, her scent enveloped me—vanilla, sugar and Rachel—mingled with the scent of our sex. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe if I just closed my eyes tight enough, I could imagine her arms around me still. Sighing, I let my breath out. It didn’t work.

  I felt like shit that she’d seen me like that—fighting with my brothers like a punk. She deserved better. And if I wanted her to be in my life, she would demand better from me. I had to grow up.

  When I opened my eyes, my gaze landed on her pearl ring still laying on the nightstand. I had the perfect excuse to run her aground. And I would damn well make sure she knew what I wanted from her.

  Everything. I was a hundred percent in.

  I just hoped she felt the same.

  18

  Rachel

  I’d woken up so happy.

  I’d spent the night with Austin, and it’d felt so good, all the cuddling and laughter and orgasms—it’d been damn near perfect.

  With misty eyes, I pulled into a service station a few miles from Austin’s cabin. No, wait, Cole Jackson’s cabin.

  Like that mattered.

  My fingers shook as I punched out a quick text to my mom.

  Me: Roads are clear. I’m coming home!

  Mom: Drive safe, honey! We’ll be here waiting for you!

  I smiled slightly and put my phone away. Her text said everything without saying much. After taking one more deep breath to calm my nerves, I slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

  And then I headed home.

  The entire drive home I tried not to think about Austin. Or that scene with his brothers. Why did I open my big mouth? I should’ve just slipped out the front door without saying anything to anyone.

  But it had hurt my soul to hear them yelling at each other like that. I would’ve loved to have such a large and close family like they did. All I was gonna suggest was that they calm down. But my mere presence seemed to just rile them up more.

  And I really should stop thinking about things I couldn’t change. Instead I turned up the volume and tried to sing my troubles away with George Strait.

  It took me almost three times as long as normal, but I finally pulled into the cracked and pothole covered parking lot of my ancient apartment building. The crappy structure had never looked so good. Unlike Tahoe and the eastern half of I-80, the lot was dry and without a speck of snow. I hadn’t even pulled into my parking spot before the door to our ground-floor unit sprang open and my rambunctious little guy came running out.

  “Mama!” Wyatt ran down the sidewalk and came to a skittering stop at my front bumper.

  I pushed open my car door and had him in my arms in seconds. “Wyatt! Oh, I missed you so much, kiddo!”

  His tiny arms wrapped around my neck as my throat grew thick with unshed tears. I’d missed him like crazy. Burying my nose in the nape of his neck, I inhaled that smell that was uniquely his—baby shampoo, sunshine, and Wyatt. I was home.

  Before I was ready, he wiggled in my arms, eager for the hug to be over and the next adventure to start. I released him with a sigh. He was growing up too damn fast. I surreptitiously swiped at my eyes so he wouldn’t see my tears.

  “Wyatt!” My mom barked from somewhere behind me. “What do we say about parking lots?”

  He hunched his shoulders and the sparkle left his eyes. “I hafta hold your or Mama’s hand.”

  My mom wheeled herself to my side. “It’s super dangerous, and we don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I just missed Mama.” His lower lip quivered as tears welled into his eyes.

  My heart mel
ted in the face of his tears, but I had to stay strong and back up my mom.

  “Gramma’s right,” I replied as I knelt next to him. I’d missed Wyatt like crazy too, but we’d done this dance enough times that he knew better. I wasn’t falling for his achingly pitiful guilt trip. “I missed you too buddy, but you still gotta be careful. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” Wyatt muttered as he shoved his hand in his pocket and turned the topic from his scolding like a puppet master. “Look what I saved for you while you were on your bay-cation, Mama.”

  “Bay-cation?” I parroted in confusion as I accepted three ordinary rocks from Wyatt.

  “Yes, Rachel.” My mom folded her hands in my lap. “I told Wyatt all about your ski vacation in Tahoe and how sometimes mommies need some time to themselves.”

  That was news to me, but I guess it was better than telling Wyatt the uncertain truth. My mom was awesome and thoughtful and deserved so much better than our crappy apartment and paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle. I wished I could give her more. Instead I let all my love shine as I knelt next to her chair and gave her an awkward side hug. “Thanks, Mom. And thank you for my awesome rocks, Wyatt. My vacation was great. I got to see snow, and my friend had a huge dog that followed us everywhere.”

  Wyatt cried with glee as he clapped his hands, but it didn’t cover my mom’s hiss. She looked at me with wide eyes. “A dog?”

  “Yeah, but it was okay. Blue is the sweetest, laziest doggo ever.”

  “I wanna meet him, mommy!” Wyatt jumped up, tugging on my arm. “I wanna see the dog.”

  “Errr, maybe one day, buddy.” I scrambled to my feet since the concrete had been digging into my knees. Biting my lip, I avoided looking at my mom. She’d encouraged me to hook up with Austin after all, but I still felt awkward at even the thought of talking about him or Austin-adjacent topics with her or my son.

  I’d always remember him and our weekend together. But Austin was a snowy fantasy. He had no place here in my real life.

  No matter how much I wished he did.

  “I’m starving. Who else is hungry? Have you guys had breakfast yet?”

  My mom gave me a searching look before she shook her head. “Wyatt and I already ate, but I can fix you something.”

  “Nah, I can do that. You’ve been here working for days while I was off relaxing on vacation. I’ll fix myself something. Come on, Wyatt. I’ll race ya!”

  We took off running for our apartment, leaving my mom to slowly follow us in.

  I couldn’t stomach looking at her knowing eyes for another minute. I might just break down and cry.

  But I couldn’t hide forever. Later that afternoon when Wyatt zonked out for a nap, Mom cornered me in our building’s laundry room—literally right next door to our apartment. One of the crappy features of our hideously expensive ground floor apartment.

  I stood next to the washing machine contemplating the layer of cheese on Wyatt’s t-shirt when my mom entered.

  “So, spill. Tell me everything.”

  “Mom, where’s Wyatt?” I knew the answer, but I still tried to dodge the subject.

  She lifted the video baby monitor one of my high school friends had given me at my baby shower. “Snug as a bug who passed out after too many cartoons. Now spill.”

  A wave of heat swept over my face. Yes, I know that I’m a grown adult, but talking about boys—men—wasn’t something that I’d ever done with my mom. “It was fine. I was worried about you guys back here. I know Wyatt can be a handful at the best of times. I’m so s—” I cut myself off as I realized that I was going to apologize. Again. For something that was out of my control. I cleared my throat. “Thanks so much for watching him, Mom. I owe you.”

  “He’s my grandson. I’d do anything for him—or you. And that wasn’t what I meant. Was he cute? What did you guys do for two whole days? Was the house amazing? And you said something about a dog?”

  I cleared my throat and promptly buried my head in the washing machine. “It was fine. Austin was nice, and so was his dog, Blue. I cooked some meals and we watched some movies in the ginormous media room. But really, I mostly worried about you guys here. I felt guilty being away.”

  “Okay, that’s a lotta vagueness to unpack. Let’s start with the dog. Blue?”

  “Yeah. He was sweet. A Great Dane with a bluish silver kinda coat. He was really more like a teddy bear—just so sweet and docile. He was nice.”

  “That’s good, honey. I’m glad you were comfortable enough to spend a couple of days with a dog. I’ve seen how you are with Wyatt when he runs across any kinda dog. I was worried that your fear would become Wyatt’s. I’m so proud that you spent the weekend with a dog. That’s pretty dang amazing.”

  It was hard to accept praise over such a simple thing, but mom knew more than anyone why I was so afraid of dogs. She’d been the one to scare the animal off and had taken me to the ER.

  “Blue is a pretty great dog. I’m glad that I met him.”

  “And maybe you can let Wyatt meet him. I bet he’d love a big ol’ dog like Blue. I can just see them now.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not gonna happen, Mom. I doubt I’ll see Austin or Blue again.”

  “Oh.” My mom looked down at the video monitor in her hands and absently brushed some lint off the screen. “I thought—I’d hoped anyway—that maybe you’d met someone special.”

  “I did. Austin was—is—special. But we were only together because of the circumstances. If not for the weather, we’d never had met. We’d only spent time together because we had to. And it was great. He’s great. But now we’re back in the real world.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Don’t be, Mom.” I wryly shook my head. My mom was apologizing to me. Maybe it was genetic. “I’m not sorry. I love my life. I love you and Wyatt. I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything.”

  “Well, if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are and want you in his life, then maybe he’s not that great after all.”

  I closed the lid on the washing machine with a laugh. “He’s just not built for relationships, Mom. And I think after this weekend, I wouldn’t be happy with anything less.”

  “Good. You deserve the world, sweetheart. Don’t settle. Ever.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Now let’s go raid the kitchen for chocolate. I suddenly feel the need to eat my body weight in chocolate.”

  “Chocolate we can do.”

  Because us Tannenbaum women knew that chocolate fixed everything.

  19

  Austin

  It took me two days, but I finally got Rachel’s address through some underhanded dealings on my end. I owed a few favors to a member of the California Kings MC. But it was worth it.

  Rachel was worth it.

  I pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. I took in the sea of potholes disfiguring the patches of asphalt, the peeling paint on the building, and five different colors of shingles barely covering the roof. Rachel lived here?

  I had to look again at the scrap of paper with Rachel’s address that Knuckles had given me.

  I hadn’t spent much time in Auburn, but I knew there were better apartments to be had. Hell, there were better trailer parks. This was where she lived? Her and her mom and her son? My heart felt leaden as I pictured a three-year-old boy playing in this parking lot.

  Then some of our conversation last weekend came back to me. Her worries about missing a shift at work. And then two shifts. Something about making rent…

  Fuck.

  My euphoria long gone, I approached her door with a determined set to my jaw.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  From somewhere inside her apartment I heard a muffled, “One second! Keep your pants on!”

  I waited a few beats. Still nothing.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  In the two-inch gap between the bottom of the door and the ground, I watched her shadow sway slightly as she no doubt peered through the peephole.

  “I know you�
��re in there, Rachel. You said as much a few seconds ago, and I can see your shadow under the door. I’m not going anywhere, so open up.”

  She pulled the door open. “Hey, Austin.”

  She was wearing her damn cleaning uniform of polo shirt and slacks, and I had to grin. “You do own other clothes, right?”

  “Did you really come out here to harass my fashion choices? How do even know where I live?”

  “Stalkers gotta stalk. Can I come in?”

  “I don’t know. You just outted yourself as a stalker. Not really the smartest move on my part if I let you in, is it?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Hey, I’m just being honest. The number of hoops I had to jump through to get your address was insane. I would’ve been here yesterday, but I didn’t know where here was.”

  “So, I should let you in because you’re an honest stalker?” She squinted at me. “That doesn’t sound very smart.”

  “Come on, Rach. Let me in. I’m freezing my balls off out here.” I hunched my shoulders in my leather sheepskin jacket.

  Rachel’s gaze lingered on my jacket. I could almost feel her eyes roving over my chest as her cheeks turned a cute shade of dusky red. She shivered. I burrowed my hands into my jacket pockets. It could’ve been the blast of cold wind, but I think someone was enjoying some naughty memories. My lips quirked in a smirk, and catching sight of my grin, she shook her head, took a step back, and ushered me inside.

  “Thanks,” I murmured as I stepped past her.

  The door clicked closed behind me, but I was too busy taking in her living room. The sparseness made my stomach feel hollow. The sofa had to be at least ten years old and sagged on one end. A few toys dotted the carpet, along with a dark purple stain. The rest of the room was empty, but it probably had to be to accommodate her mom’s wheelchair.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Rachel squared up to me, defensiveness coming off her in waves. “So, what do you want?”