Dr. Perfect: An MM Contemporary Romance Bundle

by J. P. Oliver

  Gina was studying at the table when I walked in. She smiled at me. “You lasted longer than last time,” she said, gathering up her college books and sliding them into her backpack. “He ate, and his homework is done.”

  “Thanks, Gina." I handed her a check. “Are you going to be around much during the holidays?”

  “Probably,” she said. “Senior year is kicking my butt, and I want to graduate in May so I can start my master’s.”

  “A year early? That’s impressive.”

  Her smile was dazzling. “I try,” she said. “Text me and let me know what’s up. I’m sure I’ll be around.”

  I nodded, then followed the sound of simulated gunfire up the stairs and onto the landing where the game room was set up. “Killing zombies again?" I asked as I plopped down onto the leather couch beside him.

  “Bodocks,” he said, as if that one word cleared everything up.

  I shook my head, watching him hunt shadowy figures through dark, terrifying locations. It was the most Halloween-ish thing I’d seen him do in a while, but that didn’t make it any easier to understand. “Maybe this is a little too violent,” I said tentatively. “I don’t remember buying this game.”

  “It follows the rules,” he said, pausing the game with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not hurting actual humans. Besides, I’m getting straight A’s—” he paused for effect—“again, and my chores are done, and you promised you would stop worrying about violent video games turning me into a bully. I’m fifteen. I’m good. I promise.”

  I put my arm around him, giving him a quick squeeze and chuckling. “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  I stopped him before he could start the game up again. “Listen. I want to get your honest opinion about something.”

  “All right,” he said carefully.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing you did. It’s about me. What do you think about me dating?”

  “Are you serious?” he turned and looked at me, his dark brown eyebrows rising in question, his deep brown eyes worldly and mischievous all at once. “You date all the time. I’m cool with it. I just think I’m old enough to skip the sitter.”

  “You don’t like Gina?”

  “I do like her. But I think I can order pizza and do homework without help.”

  “I feel better knowing someone is here, just in case.”

  Eddie sighed. “I know. Because you’ve seen things, and you know that even good kids make dangerous mistakes.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Moving on,” Eddie said, sounding more like a little adult than a teenager. “If you’re not talking about dating, then what are you talking about?”

  “Do you think I’m too picky?”

  He froze, blinking at me without saying a word. “I don’t think I should answer that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Is this a trick question? Am I going to get in trouble for being disrespectful?”

  Smart kid, I thought, laughing. “No. I’m being serious. You know me better than anyone in the world. I’m asking you if you think that my relationships haven’t worked out because I’m too picky.”

  “I wouldn’t call them relationships, because you never let them get to the second date. Yes, you’re picky. I mean, you drive a nice car and all that, but it’s almost as old as I am.”

  “It’s five years old,” I corrected.

  “Whatevs. Anyway, you gotta loosen up. I know you spend all day with screw-ups—”

  “Troubled teens,” I corrected.

  “You know what I mean. You have to turn that off. The rest of us manage without tons of rules and expectations. You need to chill and quit acting like you’re all that, you know?”

  “Anything else?”

  “Give people a chance, and don’t judge them based on stupid stereotypes. Just because someone has a crap job or isn’t ambitious doesn’t mean they’re not a good match for you. Get to know them better before you run.”

  “I don’t want to waste my time, or theirs.”

  “You don’t think going through men like some hormonal teenager is wasting time? You always tell me to invest myself in things that are important. If having a man is important to you, try giving it more than one night."

  He paused and flashed me a wicked smile. “What’s that thing you always tell me when you’re telling me what to do? Oh, that’s right. I say this with love. Stop treating every guy like you’re better than they are. You’re pretty great, but you’re just average.”

  I had to laugh. “Remind me never to ask your honest opinion unless I really want it.”

  “I will,” he assured me; then his face turned serious. “I want you to be happy. Please, promise me that you’ll give the next guy a little more time before you kick him to the curb?”

  My heart melted, and I saw flashes of the sweet toddler Eddie had once been. I tamped down my emotions and nodded. “I promise,” I said.

  And I meant every word.

  2

  Arthur

  Arthur

  The phone rang in my pocket, the ringtone I’d assigned to Leo’s school unmistakable. I handed the man across the counter his change and smiled apologetically. “Gotta take this, man,” I said.

  The man nodded and rushed out of the store with his treasures, carefully holding the bag close to his body so he didn’t bust his new vape pen. Groaning, I picked up the phone one ring before the voicemail would have, if I’d bothered to set it up yet. “Hello?”

  “Is this Arthur Reed?” a curt voice asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “We’re going to need to you to come get Leo.”

  There was no explanation, no preamble, and no empathy. The woman was angry, and breathing hard through the phone. Never a good sign.

  “What did he do now?” I asked, trying to buy time while I rushed around behind the counter, trying to find the keys to the store.

  “You’ll receive a full report when you arrive.” Before I could press her for more info, she hung up the phone.

  “Not good,” I said, finally locating my keys and vaulting over the counter instead of going through the locked door. My kid needed me; he just didn’t know it.

  The parking lot was empty after the lunch rush, but I still took the time to flip the sign and let people know I was out to lunch. Business was good, but if people came upon a locked door with no explanation, they would probably never come back.

  My Chevy Leaf was silent as I hurried through the streets toward the school, heart in my throat. I didn’t know what Leo had done this time, but I knew it must be bad. I rehearsed everything I planned on saying to him, desperately searching for the words that would reach him.

  By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I’d forgotten all of it, and was left resisting the urge to run onto campus and swoop in to save Leo.

  Principal Moss met me at the door and ushered me into her office without me having to give my ID in exchange for a visitor’s pass. My stomach lurched, and the old familiar feeling of dread rose up when she opened the door and motioned me inside. I took a seat beside Leo and tried to ignore the resource officer was standing with his back against the wall a few feet away.

  “Leo is not having a good day,” Principal Moss said, sliding a stack of papers my way. “I can summarize it for you, if you want. But basically, he’s running out of chances.”

  “Chances?” I said numbly, drawing an embarrassed groan from Leo. I shot him a look, but he didn’t flinch. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  She sighed. “Mr. Reed. I’m trying to run a high school here. Now, we all care about Leo and want to see him succeed, but not at the cost of other students’ well-being.”

  I blinked, and she sighed again. “He got in another fight today. We’re not even halfway through the year, and he’s been in four fights. Now, I’ve let some things go, because I know that he’s…”

  She stopped as if searching for the words, then cleared her throat uncomfortably and tried a new
tactic. “Look, if we can’t find a way for Leo to come to school and make it through the day without an altercation or an argument, we’re going to recommend he go to the alternative school.”

  “Alternative school?” I asked.

  “The bad kid school,” Leo hissed, arms crossed. “Geez, Dad. It’s like you don’t know anything.”

  His words stung, but I let them slide. I could see it in his posture; Leo was upset and trying to protect himself. From what, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t going to let him bait me with his anger.

  I looked back at Principal Moss and ignored Leo huffing in the corner. “Did you interview the other boy?”

  “Other boys.”

  “What?”

  “He was engaging in a physical altercation with three boys,” the resource officer said, clearly irritated with me.

  In fact, it seemed like everyone was irritated at me. I fought the urge to retreat into myself, taking several cleansing breaths to center myself before I spoke again. “Is everything outlined in this?” I asked, pointing to the file she’d given me.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “All right. The day is pretty much over. What if I take him home now and keep him home until Monday, so he can decompress, and we can get to the bottom of this?"

  The principal looked visibly relieved, but I could already tell that Leo was going to fight me on it. I ignored him, as hard as that was, and addressed Principal Moss. “Can you ask his teachers to email me his homework for the rest of the week?”

  “Already done,” she said. “They’ve emailed next week’s, too. Just in case you were thinking about homeschooling him again.”

  “I’m sure we can resolve this without doing anything crazy,” I said.

  “Regardless, he’s suspended until Monday.”

  “I understand.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, Dad. Ugh! Why do you always have to side with everyone else?”

  This time, I did turn to him. I searched his eyes, trying to connect with the frightened little boy inside, but Leo had thrown up his walls, and they weren’t coming down without a fight. “I’m on your side,” I said quietly. “That doesn’t always mean what you think it should.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  “Whether I agree or not, these are the rules.”

  “That’s easy to say when you don’t follow the rules.”

  “We’ll talk more at home,” I said, my words short as I struggled to hold it together.

  “Whatever,” he said, standing up abruptly and pulling away when the resource officer put his hand on Leo’s shoulders to slow him down. “Get your hands off me!” he yelled, then fled the office without me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “He’s had such a rough life. I adopted him from foster care—”

  “When he was eight,” the principal interrupted. “He’s fifteen. You can’t keep justifying this behavior, or it’s going to blow up in your face." She grimaced. “More than it already has.”

  “What would you have me do? Punish him?”

  “Proper discipline is essential for adolescent development. Taking away privileges and assigning extra chores—”

  “Breeds contempt. Leo doesn’t need that in his life. He needs kindness and understanding.”

  “He needs both,” she said firmly. “And if I don’t see marked improvement by Thanksgiving, I’m going to have to recommend that he attend the alternative school.”

  I could feel the anger rising, but I pushed it back and took a deep breath before I responded. “I disagree with you on several levels, but I’m not in a good place to talk about this right now.”

  “I understand,” she said. “You have my number when you’re ready. But I need you to think about it.

  “Leo is isolating himself one altercation at a time. Pretty soon, he won’t have a single kid at the school willing to give him the time of day. If you’re worried about what negative consequences will do to him, you should consider what being completely shunned will do to a teenager. It’s a delicate age.”

  “I know,” I said. Then I left, too emotional to trust myself to speak in kindness.

  Leo was already in the car, key in the ignition, radio blaring. I got in, turned the radio off and looked at him. “How did you get my keys?”

  “Like you can’t feel anyone reach into that poncho you’re always wearing. You look like a stoner. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I had to cover my Stems and Seeds shirt. Last time I came straight from work, you freaked out about that.”

  “Because it’s lame. I didn’t ask you to get lamer.”

  “I understand that you’re angry. I’d like to invite you to take a moment to breathe while I drive back home, and then we can talk.”

  “I’d like to invite you to kiss my ass,” he muttered angrily.

  I reached toward him, opening the glovebox, my heart squeezing when he flinched as if I might hit him. “You’ve been family for seven years, and I have never laid a hand on you,” I said, pulling a rolled-up paper bag from the glovebox. “I’m deeply sorry that you don’t feel safe in this space.”

  His bottom lip quivered, and I prepared myself for the breakthrough we both needed him to have. But then he straightened, sticking out his chin defiantly. “I didn’t flinch; you just imagined it. I’m not scared of you.”

  “I’ve never asked you to be." I unrolled the bag and put a few drops of CBD liquid in the vape pen. “Here. Maybe this will help you calm down a little.”

  He looked at me, incredulous. “Are you serious right now? You’re going to get me high because I got in a fight at school?”

  “There’s no THC in this. It will help with your anxiety.”

  “Oh. My. Gawd,” he said, emphasizing each word. “Can we just go home so I don’t have to be seen in this stupid, hippy car?”

  “I was thinking you could come back to the store with me.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I’m not going to hide out in the back like last time. I’m not supposed to be in the store until I’m eighteen. I don’t know why you expect me to follow rules when you can’t even manage it.”

  “I’m not asking you to bend to society’s rules. But we are not a violent family. Physical violence is never the answer.”

  “You don’t even know what happened.”

  “I don’t need to know.” I started driving toward home. “We don’t respond with violence.”

  “No, you don’t respond with violence. I’m not going to let people walk all over me like I’m some kind of loser. I’m not going to let people hurt me without fighting back. I’m not like you.”

  “It hurts when you say things like that.”

  “It’s not supposed to feel good,” he shot back, then sat back against the seat. “I just want to go home.”

  “I’m taking you home, but no TV and no video games until I come back.”

  “You’re grounding me?”

  “No. But you need to focus on using your words to solve problems, instead of your fists. There has to be a better way to address the conflicts you’re having with other kids.”

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  I slammed on the brakes and turned to him, ignoring the blaring horns behind me. “Are you really?”

  “Holy crap, no! Drive before we get hit. I was just saying — ugh, never mind. I don’t want to talk about it right now, all right?”

  I continued down the street, headed for home. “I understand. We’ll talk more when I get home from work. I want you to think about why you’re getting so riled up about their words that you can’t help resorting to violence.”

  He scoffed. “Work. As if selling pot to potheads is work. It’s your fault I got in that fight in the first place.”

  I pulled into our driveway and parked, about to ask him what he meant, but he was already out the door and taking the stairs two at a time. I watched him until he was inside, slamming the door so hard that I was sure the foundation shook.

  I backed out before I could chan
ge my mind and go after him. “He needs space,” I said, breathing in through my nose and holding it before letting it back out. “He’ll talk to me when he’s ready.”

  It didn’t make me feel any better, but it was getting late, and I needed to open the store for a few more hours to make my sales. Otherwise, we’d have bigger problems than Leo’s misplaced anger.

  One of my favorite regulars pulled into the parking lot as I unlocked the door to Stems and Seeds and flipped the sign to Open. “I came by earlier and you were closed,” he said, coming through the door on my heels.

  “Yeah, I had to go get my kid from school.”

  “Sick or fighting?”

  “Fighting,” I admitted, waiting for the judgment. I was a pacifist at heart, and so were so many of my customers. “If I knew how to make him stop, I would.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, buddy. I raised five boys. Trust me, it’s par for the course.”

  “Really? I was kinda hoping it would work itself out over the summer.”

  He shook his head. “Some are worse than others. It’s all about what they internalize and how they deal with the blowout.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell him.”

  The man laughed. “You can’t tell an angry teen that they’re being irrational. You have to find his currency.”

  “Currency?”

  “What speaks to him. What gets him motivated to make positive changes? Everyone has something that motivates them to do better. It’s a natural human instinct.”

  “Any ideas? He pretty much hates everything.”

  “That’s something you’re going to have to figure out. You and your partner need to work together to figure out what makes him tick.”

  “I’m a single dad,” I said. “I’ve been a single dad since I adopted him when he was eight.”

  “Who supports you? Your family, friends?”

  “I support myself.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. You need a tribe, or at least someone who loves your son as much as you do. It takes a lot of love to help a kid like Leo work through his issues.”

  “He doesn’t seem to want love,” I said, laughing uncomfortably. “Every time I try to love him through it, he just pushes me away.”