She turned to Cal. “So, I’ll just head out and let you two . . . catch up.”
Cal frowned. “But I have to take you home—”
She waved a hand. “I’ll call Delilah.”
“You could take my truck. I still have my bike—”
Her smile was tight. “Cal, really, it’s fine. Delilah’s shop is closed by now. I’ll just head on out to the road and call her.”
This was it, and there’d be no embrace, no last-minute kiss, no nothing, because Asher was staring at them, and Cal’s stomach was cramping from nerves.
But this moment . . . this moment could be something. He could tell her to stay. He could wrap her in his arms and tell Asher that Jenna was his girlfriend. And Jenna was giving him this decision, her hands clenched at her sides, her face a little hopeful.
But the anxiety crept up his spine, telling him that he couldn’t get swept up in this temporary arrangement that was making him question everything he’d believed for the past ten years.
So he let the moment pass. And he nodded. And then he watched as Jenna’s face fell, just slightly, before she slipped out the door.
He didn’t have time to wallow, though, because he had a teenager in the house who probably needed to eat dinner.
He took a deep breath and began scrounging in his refrigerator for food.
CAL STARED AT his phone in his hands. The three cigarettes he’d sucked down before this phone call hadn’t done much to steady his hands. And it wasn’t even ten in the morning.
He’d slept like shit last night, and he didn’t think the kid fared much better, since he now sat at the kitchen table wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants, his hair sticking up at all angles, and sporting dark circles under his eyes. A plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs sat in front of him. “What do you think she’ll say?” he asked, his voice way too tiny for a sixteen-year-old guy.
“It’ll be okay, kid,” Cal assured him, even though he didn’t feel it himself. He didn’t want to have to call his mother or hear her voice. He didn’t want to have to tell her that her husband was such a drunk that his kid had run away from home. Rather than delay any longer, Cal typed in his mother’s phone number that Asher had supplied and held the phone up to his ear as it rang.
Once.
Twice.
The third ring was cut off midtrill. “Hello?”
He hadn’t heard her voice in . . . hell, he wasn’t sure. She might have called him a couple of years ago, but he couldn’t remember exactly. He cleared his throat. “Hey, this is Cal.”
There was silence on the other end. It lasted so long that Cal thought she’d hung up. “C-Cal?”
“Yep.” You know, your firstborn son?
“Oh, well, how are you?”
They weren’t doing this dumb-ass small talk. No way in hell. He plunged right into the meat of his call. “Yeah, so I have Asher here in front of me.” More silence. It stretched on and on until Cal had had enough. “For God’s sake, you wanna act like you give a shit that your kid is in another state?”
“I do care!” she protested. “I’m just shocked. I thought he was with a friend—”
“He lied. He was on a bus to see his brothers—who didn’t even know he existed, by the way, so thanks for that—because your drunk of a husband got behind the wheel, impaired, with Asher in the car.”
“No one was hurt.”
“Excuse me?”
“My husband said there was just a lot of loose gravel on the road—”
“Oh, really? Then why did Asher tell me that wasn’t the first time?”
Silence. Just silence.
How in the hell was Cal going to be able to put this kid back on a bus to his hometown, knowing his dad drove drunk with him in the car and all his mom did was make excuses? How in the fuck was he going to live with that?
“Look, it wasn’t—”
Cal was vibrating with fury now. “He was drunk. Asher knew it, and he was scared shitless. So scared that he put himself on a goddamn bus to seek protection from grown men he’s never even met. Now what the fuck does that tell you?”
Silence. Then a small voice. “I can pay for his ticket home—”
“No, you fucking won’t!” Cal roared. Asher’s face was white as snow, his lips twisted in misery. “He’s staying here until you guys get your shit together. I’m not sending him back so his dad can put his safety at risk.”
“Bill’s not going to like this.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck what Bill likes. He wants to come pry the kid out of my hands, he can fucking bring it.”
“The police—”
“Would love to hear about his drinking problem, I’m sure. You’ve done some low things in your life, Jill, but it’s the fucking lowest not to take this seriously. And thanks for the brother I never knew about.”
And then he ended the call.
He couldn’t stand to hear her make excuses for the husband she’d left his dad for.
Asher had his hands clenched on the table in front of him. He didn’t speak.
And Cal thought he was going to throw up. He’d just accepted the responsibility of taking care of a teenage boy. That was what he’d done, right? He replayed the conversation and glanced at Asher. Yep, that was what he’d done.
Cal was officially crazy.
But he wasn’t cruel. Asher was scared enough to run away, so Cal couldn’t send him right back to where he didn’t feel safe.
The bitch of it was that this was what Cal had worked for ten years to avoid. And now, here he was again, in the same position, with a kid named Asher who reminded him way too much of Max. Cal had fallen head over heels in love with little Max when he was born. He’d been a surprise to everyone. His mother had been pissed, having already checked out of their family, and his dad had been scared shitless. But Cal . . . well, he’d loved that fat baby more than anything.
He’d just laid into Jenna for his not wanting to be responsible for anyone or anything, and then Asher had showed up on his doorstop in a teenage package of irony.
Jesus. Fuck.
He threw his phone onto the countertop with a clatter. “I guess you’re staying here for a while.”
Asher’s expression was so hopeful, it nearly broke Cal’s heart. “A-are you sure?”
Not at all. “Yep. That woman is impossible.”
“D-do you remember her much? Before she left?”
“Yeah, I do. Brent sort of does. Max doesn’t remember her much at all.”
“Do you know why she left?”
Cal sat down across from Asher and took a sip of the water he’d left on the table. “I think she doesn’t know. She was a good mom for a while, and then she wasn’t, and then she left. It’s as simple and complicated as that. I think she might be a little selfish.”
“So she’s okay with me staying with you?”
“Well, I didn’t really give her much of a chance to protest, but she didn’t seem to have any intention of talking to your dad about his drinking. Until they can tell me you’ll be safe, I’m not taking you back to them.” Asher didn’t cheer or even smile. Cal understood the feeling. Although the kid wanted to stay, he most likely wanted his parents to give a shit that he wasn’t home. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little while then, kid.”
Asher smiled then. “I think I can live with that.”
Chapter Fifteen
JENNA HEARD THE voices first and closed her eyes, the Ultimate Fudge Brownie Mix box still clutched in her fists. She thought about hiding, but with her luck, she’d knock over a soup display or run over a little kid with her cart, so she stayed put as she waited for Cal and Asher to look up and see her in front of them at the grocery store.
She hadn’t given Delilah any details last night when she’d picked her up. And for once, Delilah had shut up and hadn’t asked too many questions. Jenna had gone home and nursed her wounds with a good book and a large glass of wine. Okay, two glasses. Okay, three-quarters of the bottle.
&nbs
p; She rubbed her temples and then heard a “Jenna!” She lifted her gaze to see a grinning Asher walking toward her while a grumpy Cal leaned over the handle of the cart, steel eyes glowing from under the brim of his ball cap.
It reminded her of the night in his tow truck. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night in the tow truck. “Hey, Asher,” she said as the teenager drew close.
The kid looked tired but happy. “We’re grocery shopping because I’m staying with Cal for a while.”
She darted her gaze to Cal, who didn’t react. She looked back at Asher. “Why’s that?”
The kid talked to the brownie box in her hand rather than to her. “Cal called my mom and she didn’t . . . uh, I guess Cal thought it was best if I don’t go back there right now. You know . . . ”
He was uncomfortable now, those brown eyes a little pained. Cal made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “Kid’s safer here.”
He’d spent the whole weekend telling Jenna he didn’t want responsibilities and a family—hell, the man didn’t even have a plant—and yet here he was, stepping up because the brother he never knew about needed him.
Yeah, she would have fallen in love with this Cal.
“Cal said he only grocery shops for milk and eggs. His food options are really pathetic,” Asher grumbled. “And I get to meet my brothers tonight, so we need something to make for dinner.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “We’re here, aren’t we?
Jenna smiled and tossed the brownie box she was holding into their cart. Cal looked at it like it was a snake. “What’s that for?”
Jenna had already begun to push her cart away, Asher following her. “What did you say?”
He pointed to the box and grunted.
Jenna wasn’t in the mood for his lack of conversation skills. She had a headache. “Brownies,” she said dryly.
“I know they’re brownies. What’re they for?”
“They aren’t for anything. It’s just a box of brownie mix.”
“If they aren’t for anything, then why are they in my cart?”
Asher’s head was shifting back and forth between the two of them. Jenna fought her irritation. “Because everyone should have brownie mix on hand. It’s like Keeping House 101.”
Cal leaned back and placed a hand on his chest. “Well, damn. No one told me that. I guess I’ve been failing Keeping House 101 for ten fucking years then.”
“Can you not swear in the baked goods aisle, Cal?”
“Can you not throw random shit we don’t need in the cart?”
She threw up her hands. “Fine, put the brownies back on the shelf. I don’t care.”
Cal studied the boxes in front of him and then placed the brownies Jenna had picked back on the shelf. She watched, arms over her chest, as he picked up a box labeled Chocolate Chunk and tossed that in his cart instead.
He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
She tapped her fingers on her elbows. “Really?”
He drew an imaginary check mark in the air. “Chocolate Chunk beats Ultimate Fudge. Just saying.”
She pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile, because this all felt incredibly domestic.
Asher followed her over to the next aisle, where they checked out the cereal. Asher bit his lip. “I usually just have a granola bar with breakfast.”
“What kind of granola bars?” Jenna asked.
“Whatever’s on sale.”
She smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “Okay, well, how about this—I have an amazing recipe for homemade granola bars. I swear, once you get Jenna-granola, you don’t go back. I can make them and bring them over, okay?”
“Really?” Asher said, a huge grin on his face.
“Sure. They’re easy, and I’m running low.”
Asher turned to Cal. “She makes her own granola bars.”
“I heard, kid.”
CAL FOLLOWED BEHIND Jenna and Asher, watching as they discussed groceries and as his cart filled with food he wasn’t sure he’d ever bought in his life. They were in the dairy aisle, talking about yogurt, and he wandered over to the pharmacy.
Asher had frowned at Cal’s cigarettes this morning, and while the kid didn’t say anything, the dislike was clear on his face. Jenna’s “They’ll kill you” echoed in his head on repeat. His relationship with cigarettes was long and uncomplicated. They were like a best friend in a way, one that was always there and soothed his nerves. And all they asked for in return was a couple years off of his life.
No big deal.
He picked up a brand of nicotine patches hanging above a shelf. He read the label: To increase your success in quitting, you must be motivated to quit.
Was he? They sure made him feel good. Brent was so used to his smoking that he hadn’t said much when Cal headed out on their balcony to light up. But Asher didn’t need to be around it, for the smell to seep into his hair and clothes.
So Cal threw the patch in the cart, and then grabbed the next patch in the plan, and then the next. And he felt like crying a little as he broke up with a best friend.
Good ol’ Nico Nicotine. “It was good while it lasted,” he mumbled to himself.
By the time they headed to checkout, Cal’s only contribution to his own household’s food was to add some more bags of frozen vegetables.
He’d tried to throw in some frozen meals, because the microwave was his best friend, but Jenna had shut that down. “Wow, you really are a dude,” Jenna said, blinking at him.
“Why do you two keep saying that?” he asked. As they began laughing together, he added, “What the hell am I supposed to be?”
That made them laugh harder. He pushed the cart away, muttering under his breath about how he’d never participate in group grocery shopping again.
Out in the parking lot, he looked around, hoping to help Jenna load her groceries, but he didn’t see her car.
So he drove home, Asher talking excitedly in the passenger seat about the steaks Jenna had picked out for the dinner she wouldn’t even be at. And Cal wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing.
BEING THE RESPONSIBLE one again was an odd fit. It was like pulling on a leather coat after it had sat in a closet all summer. The fabric was a little stiff on his skin but after a while, it warmed up, and he remembered how comfortable it all was.
Asher seemed like a decent kid. He had a little bit of a stubborn, defiant streak in him, Cal could tell. Stubbornness ran in the family, so that wasn’t a surprise.
Every time Cal thought about Asher’s father driving drunk with him in the car and his mother not sticking up for the safety of her child, Cal wanted to rage. But he kept a lid on it and instead, sorted the groceries with the kid.
He showed Asher his TV and the video game system he never used. Cal had pitiful games for it, and Asher teased him.
Cal stood out on his back deck, jonesing for a cigarette and scratching at the patch on his arm. He had to figure out what to do with Asher now. He didn’t know how long he’d be here, and Cal didn’t want him sitting around getting bored. Because bored teenagers got into trouble or got themselves hurt, and that wasn’t happening on Cal’s watch.
He heard a knock at the door through the screen he’d left open. When he walked into the house, Asher stood in the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of his feet, nearly vibrating.
Max was still in town, staying with their dad, so he’d been able to come by with Brent.
It’d been a dick move not to tell them about Asher when he invited them over. It was only fair, though; Cal hadn’t gotten a warning, so his brothers wouldn’t either.
Cal clapped Asher on the shoulder as he walked by on his way to the door. “Relax. I’m the scariest one, and you’ve met me already.”
He opened up the door, and Brent rushed in ahead of Max. “If this surprise isn’t a stripper, I’m going to be super-disappointed.”
Max’s eyes went wide. “Stripper?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Cal said. “There
’s no stripper.” He held out his arm in the direction of Asher, who stood in the living room with huge eyes. “There’s your brother.”
Brent stopped abruptly, so Max slammed into his back. “What the—”
“Brother?” Brent said hollowly, staring at Asher.
“Brother?” Max echoed, peeking out from behind Brent.
“Brother,” Asher confirmed in a shaky voice. “Well . . . half-brother.”
Cal stood next to Asher. “Turns out Mom had another kid.”
There was no sound. Nothing.
Brent’s eyes had gone a little hard, and Max’s face was blank. Asher began to tremble, and Cal knew he had to be the example. He was the big brother, and the younger guys had always followed his lead. He didn’t always guide them the right way, but he knew he could in this situation.
He slung his arm around Asher’s shoulders and faced Brent and Max. “Quit standing there holding your dicks and say hello, numb-nuts.”
Nobody moved for a good ten seconds. Then Brent jolted out of his stupor and strode toward Asher. He grabbed Asher’s face with both hands and held his gaze. “Fuck me; he’s got Max’s eyes.” He looked over his shoulder. “Look at this—you actually look related to someone now.”
“Fuck you! We look related!” Max shot back, but there was no heat in his words. Brent stepped back, and Max held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Max.”
The kid shook it. “I’m Asher.”
“Asher, huh?” Brent asked. “Why didn’t I get a cool name like that? I always wanted to be, like, Jackson or Gage or something.”
“Will you shut up?” Cal said.
Max ignored both of them. “So how did you find us?”
Asher opened his mouth and then looked up at Cal, clearly wanting him to make the explanations. He didn’t want to put the kid through it again, so Cal explained, in as few words as possible, that Asher had an asshole father, and he was staying at Cal’s temporarily.
Brent’s face was red. “And your mom didn’t do anything about it? What the fuck is wrong with that woman?”
Max bit his lip, his eyes sad. “That’s horrible, Ash. I’m sorry. Damn, Dad’s a total dick, but he’s never done something like that.”
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