by Marie James
Phoenix plays, splashing water all over the floor and my lap as I play right along with him. I don’t pull him from the tub until his eyes grow heavy and his tiny toes start to prune.
“Sleepy baby,” I whisper as I put on a fresh diaper and dress him in dinosaur pajamas.
He’s asleep before I get to the third page of the fireman book he loves so much, but it doesn’t keep me from reading it in its entirety. After placing my amazing boy in his crib, I head back to the bathroom and clean up the mess we made.
When I make it out into the kitchen, I’m relieved to find it empty. Julian is in his final year of medical school and gearing up for finals even though they’re still several weeks away.
Though he was accepted into numerous residency programs around the country, he decided to stay in Vegas, and I know I’m the reason he’s not heading to Massachusetts General Hospital—the top pick he mentioned the day we met. He was accepted, and much to his father’s chagrin, he denied the early acceptance. It’s a continuing sore subject with his parents who met in residency there. They like me well enough, and they love Phoenix and treat him like their own grandson, but they’re disappointed, much like I am, that he’s not reaching for the stars and fulfilling the dream he’d been hell bent on two years ago.
“Hey.” Warm arms wrap around me at the kitchen island as I try to work out my thoughts.
The attention, the comforting embrace, isn’t anything new, but the undeniable erection thick against my back is a fresh addition I’m not comfortable with. I twist in his arms, needing to face him, needing him to see the seriousness I expect from this conversation.
His lips are on mine the second they’re within reach, and my body responds the same way it did earlier, but my heart isn’t in it. I want to scream, cry, and just go with it, telling myself I can love him as more than a friend eventually, but he deserves more. If I don’t cut him loose now, we’ll just continue as we have, and that’s no life for him.
“Julian, stop.” I press my hand against his chest as hooded eyes search mine.
“Please don’t, Cariño.” He steps back, running frustrated hands through his thick brown hair. “I want you. I need you.”
He’s wearing a shirt now, but it doesn’t cover the arousal in his sweats.
“For sex, right? You need to get laid?” Unease laces my voice as my body hopes he can separate the emotional aspect of sex and just accept the physical need.
He shakes his head violently, rejecting my words. “No, Fallyn. Not just sex. I love you unconditionally.”
Emotion swells in my throat as my shoulders slump at the one answer I prayed he wouldn’t give. “We can’t,” I insist.
“We can,” he urges, hope filling his eyes. “You want me. I can tell by how you responded in the nursery. The sounds you were making…fuck, I nearly embarrassed myself like a teenage boy.”
“My body wants you, but my head, my heart…I can’t give you what you’re looking for.” I hate having to say these words again, and resent myself for giving in to the simple carnal urge earlier. Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I attempt to protect myself from the heaviness we’re about to get into.
He turns his back to me, pacing around the massive kitchen, gathering his thoughts or trying to reign in his anger, I’m not sure which.
“Where is your heart, Cariño?”
“Not here,” I confess, unable to deny feelings that have clung to me like a dark cloud I can’t seem to shake.
His shoulders fall in defeat. “He’s not coming back.”
“I know. I don’t want him to, but that doesn’t change me.”
“I’m here every day, taking care of you. I love and treat Phoenix like he’s my own son. His eyes light up when I walk into a room. I love his mother with every part of my being.” The monotone of his voice is filled with resignation as he turns back to face me.
“And I love you, Julian. You know that, but I can’t love you the way you want me to, the way you deserve.”
“So, this is it?” he mutters as his sad eyes find mine.
“Nothing has to change.” The calm he’s exhibiting right now scares me more than the anger I was certain would be present.
“Everything has changed. If you’re telling me I have no chance, there’s no point in me sticking around.”
He heads down the long hall into his bedroom, and I follow, unsure of what he’s going to do, but the way he’s speaking is freaking me out.
“Where are you going?” I ask, unable to shake the tremble in my voice.
“I’ll go to my parents’ house until I can find another apartment or something.”
“You can’t leave. This is your house. Give me a few days and Phoenix and I will go.”
A long, saddened breath flows from his lips at the mention of us leaving, and the thought nearly destroys me as well.
“The house is yours,” he says in a flat tone after a few long moments. He begins pulling clothes from the closet and throwing them haphazardly into a suitcase he’s placed on his huge bed.
“I’m not staying in your house if you’re not here.”
He growls in frustration. “You’re not listening to me. The. House. Is. Yours.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Julian. Will you stop!” I scream as he disappears into the closet for more clothes. “Fucking talk to me!”
“You’ve said enough for both of us, Fallyn.” He shoves the last of his clothes into the suitcase and zips the top. “Like I said. The house is yours. I put it in your name after the baby was born. I didn’t want you to ever be without a decent place to live, no matter what happened.”
“I won’t stay here.” I fold my arms over my chest and do my best to stand my ground. I can’t lose him too.
“You need to let go of that pride, Cariño. Think of Phoenix and his future. Don’t fuck up his life to prove a point.”
Carrying the suitcase, he shoulders past me, stopping for less than a minute to go into Phoenix’s room. Tears form anew in my eyes when he leans into the crib and kisses my sleeping baby on the head. He whispers words too low for me to hear and walks back out.
“What about us? You and me, Julian. Our friendship?” My hands tremble and my stomach twists at the thought of him leaving without resolving whatever this is.
“Take care of that baby, Fallyn, and forget about me.”
“I need you in my life,” I whisper as my tears turn to gulping sobs.
“I can’t survive with you in mine.”
The door closes softly, the lack of sound echoing through the house. I fall to my knees, unable to hold the weight of my heavy heart, and weep. Even a year and a half later, Blaze is still ruining my life.
Chapter 34
Blaze
“It’s none of your fucking concern how I got the money,” my father spits out when I refuse to take the wad of bills from his hand.
“Heroin addict and a fucking pimp? Seriously, Dad?” I don’t know why I can’t just let it go. He’s offering to buy my pills and all I have to do in exchange is hit Bones up for his dope as well.
“Kate loves to fuck and she loves her dope. I give her a place to get high and she pays for my shit. That’s the deal. I don’t give two fucks that she’s sucking and fucking every crackhead in Vegas to make sure her end of the bargain is kept.”
“You make it sound like you aren’t the one bringing the crackheads with a little bit of cash into the house and shoving them at her.”
Kate mentioned having to choose between condoms for her John’s or her latest fix, and I know which one she picked because I haven’t seen her sober in weeks.
“What can I say?” He shrugs and looks over at Kate passed out on the couch, empty needle on the floor. “I’m an entrepreneur. I’m thinking about bringing in a few more girls. Tons of money to be made. Shit, pussy sells itself.”
He presses the wadded money against my chest again.
“If you don’t like what’s going on around here, you know where you can fucking go. I could
easily rent your room out to five other people who’d be happy to have a roof over their head and a warm cunt to slide into.”
“You seriously sicken me.” I take the money from his hand and shove it deep in my pocket.
“Where are you going?” he asks when I turn toward the door.
“To see Bones,” I mutter before slamming the door behind me.
His taunting laughter follows me all the way down the block. I could take the money and leave, but I have nowhere to go. Not only that, but my father is one ruthless son of a bitch. He’d track me down using dope-head labor and skin me alive. I’ll never forget the stories he used to tell me about how his own father was old school mob decades ago. He reminded me on several occasions when I was a kid that he’d seen and done more evil shit than I could ever imagine. He may be a waif of a heroin addict, but the fear was planted deep a long time ago.
I’ll get his fucking smack, my pills, then go back into my room and ignore the shitfest that goes on inside that fucking house just like I do every night.
Bones somehow managed to get in with the right crowd over the last year. His former, seedy, back-alley drug business is on the rise. He traded junkie dealers for a couple thrill-seeking Ivy League rejects, ripped jeans and hidden drug deals for tailored suits, and a nice little place to deal in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in east Vegas.
Once my old stomping ground, I now feel out of place as I walk down the sidewalk past fancy boutiques and shops filled with shit no one really needs but everyone seems to go crazy over. Printed leggings in the Vegas heat? Are these hoity bitches crazy? Don’t even get me started on the fucking designer handbags. The cost of one of those fuckers could keep me high for a month.
I scowl at a group of prissy ass college students who cross the street rather than pass me as I walk toward them. I should rob one of them just to prove their opinions of me. A flash of brown hair catches my eye, gaining my attention.
Fallyn McIntyre. Fuck that, Porter.
She nods at the girls as they pass her on the sidewalk, and my heart stops the second I see the child strapped to her chest. I cross the street, not even bothering to smile when the rich bitches quicken their step, no doubt thinking I’m coming after them.
My wife stops to look in the window of one of the boutiques, her spine becoming rigid and eyes wide when I close the distance between us, as if she’s seen a ghost. Her gaze finds mine in the reflective glass. Her hand rests against the front of the carrier, clinging to the baby.
“Blaze,” she pants, not turning around.
I know she’s trying to keep me from seeing him, but it’s too late. My mind races, recalling the man I saw her with numerous times. Dark hair and eyes—just like her. The boy she’s carrying…
Blond, almost white hair.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
Bright, ice blue eyes.
Just like mine.
A sheen of sweat covers my entire body as my hands begin to shake even more than they were before I saw them.
She relents and turns around, taking several steps back, putting a distance I never wanted between us.
My eyes remain glued to the child as he smiles, hypnotizing me.
Tears mist my eyes as my already shattered heart cracks even further.
“He’s mine,” I whisper, reaching out to him.
She takes another step back, preventing me from touching the baby she’s hidden from me—the baby I stupidly assumed was The Douche’s.
“I have a son?” I stumble, taking a less than measured step closer to them, and curse myself for being high right now. “He’s beautiful.”
Tears stain my cheeks as she looks at me like I’m the devil himself coming for the soul of our baby. She covers the front of the carrier with her hands, the hot June sun glinting off the gold band still on her finger. The hope that tiny circle of metal gives me makes the burden of my mistakes a little lighter.
“I love you,” I whisper, speaking to them both. Less than two minutes in front of a son I never knew I had and I love him with everything I am. It’s intrinsic, immediate, and excruciating all at the same time. Pain fills her eyes at my words. “We can be a family.”
Her eyes harden, body growing stiffer.
“No.” Simple, harsh, iron-clad rejection. My heart, once filled with joy over the sight of this child, chooses to defend itself the only way it knows how.
“You’ve kept him from me. I have rights to my son.” My hands fist at my sides, urging me to take what’s mine, but I clench my jaw, steeling myself. Every day for as long as I can remember, I’ve had to fight and claw for the things I want. Taking no for an answer isn’t something I’m familiar with.
“You want to take me to court? Go before a judge and present your case?” There’s an anxious shake to her voice, but I know she’s serious. “I’d love to do that, Blaze. You don’t stand a chance in hell of even getting supervised visitation.”
The truth of her words hurts so bad, I use the go-to reaction I’ve had to use on the streets: intimidation. I take a menacing step toward her, and she clutches tighter to the baby. I regret the aggression immediately. It pains me to see her trying to protect him from me. That’s not how this is supposed to go. The father protects the family.
Memories flash and I recall the same protective action the day we had our last fight, the day I chose pills over a future I didn’t even know I could have. I had to stop myself from getting violent that day. Hitting a woman is something I never thought I’d do, but I gave it more consideration than I ever should’ve that day. She covered her belly then as well.
“That last fight. The day I left.”
“The day you chose getting high over your wife?” The quick recall betrays her, but the resentment in her voice stings more than I ever imagined it could. I know now she continues to think about me, even if it’s in a negative light.
“You knew? That day, you knew?”
Her eyes dart away, glistening with unshed tears. A slight shake of her head in the affirmative is the only answer I get—the only answer I need. She doesn’t have to explain her reasoning. The lie of omission then was the only one she could’ve made.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My jaw clenches to the point of physical pain felt through the cocktail of pain pills in my system. “You fucking knew! Do you know what I’ve done the last year and a half?”
The drugs…the crimes I’ve committed…fuck, the women I’ve woken up with, unable to remember the night before—all of it hits me like a wrecking ball.
“What difference does it make? You made your choice. You chose pills over your family.”
“He would’ve made a difference!” I point to the beautiful, blue-eyed baby strapped to her chest.
An agitated lady huffs when she has to step around us to get farther down the sidewalk and I notice several people stop to listen. I sneer at one as he holds out his phone, no doubt recording this altercation. Cognizant enough in the haze of my high, I know blowing up at her on the street would only hurt me in court if I ever manage to get my shit together enough to take it that far.
“I should’ve made the difference alone! If I wasn’t worth getting clean for, how could I bring a baby into that situation?”
My heart pounds, feet shifting in obvious discomfort. I know she’s right. I don’t know if the news of an unplanned pregnancy would’ve made me fight to get clean or fall down the rabbit hole faster than I already was. Being bombarded with the realization now makes my palm twitch for the weight of a handful of pills.
“I won’t let you hurt him with your addiction, Blaze. I’ll do everything in my power, until my very last breath, to keep you from disappointing him the way you did me.”
Her eyes tell her truth as the words ring in my head. She’s challenging me, daring me to cross her. Mother bear protecting her cub—it makes me love her even more.
“You’re still wearing my ring.” My last attempt to grasp at straws doesn’t even register on her face.
“And you’re not.” She takes another step back, as if readying herself to turn and run, leaving me on the street with no hope, no promise of a future with my son. “I only wear it so guys won’t hit on me.”
She’s trying to hurt me, if it’s even possible with the heartache I’m suffering right now. She’s a horrible liar, always has been, but the determination in her eyes clouds my ability to detect whether she’s being dishonest. I want to tell her there’s nothing she can say or do that will crush me more than realizing I’m a father and she never spoke a word of it. I drop my head, defeated, observing for the first time the dirt under my nails and the stains littering my jeans. I wouldn’t want me around this beautiful child either.
“I’m a father,” I say absently.
“You’re a junkie,” she seethes.
“He needs me,” I counter. Biggest joke of the year.
“He doesn’t,” she insists. “He has me, and I love him enough for the both of us.”
I run my hands over my head. It’s the only way I feel like I can ground myself, keep myself from blowing away in the hot breeze. “I need you too. I need what we had. I can get clean, Fallyn. I swear I can.”
“Please don’t push this, Blaze.” She sighs, her frustration clear as day.
“I’m going to fight you for custody.” Even I want to laugh at how ridiculous I sound, but I keep my face stern.
“Why bother fighting for him when you can’t be bothered to fight for yourself?”
“We can work something out. I can’t just walk away knowing I have a son.”
“You have to. There’s no other way.” Fallyn bounces on the balls of her feet as the baby starts to fuss, and coos softly, attempting to calm him. “We need to go. Please keep yourself safe.”
She turns to walk away, carrying every ounce of hope I let shine in the last few minutes right back into the darkness where it feels at home.
Some kind of fucking father I am. As I watch her get swallowed up in the crowded street, I realize I didn’t even ask what his name is.
Chapter 35
Fallyn