Sabrina slumped into me with a moan. “Is the room spinning, or is that just me? Or maybe it’s you.”
Fuck. I held her a little bit away from me, wary she was going to puke. She blinked blearily back at me and smiled.
I sighed. “You’re wasted. We can’t do this.”
What had I been thinking? Everything about this was so fucking wrong.
But I still really wanted to. My dick throbbed impatiently under her round ass.
We hated each other. Or something. I couldn’t remember exactly. Something else held claim to the majority of my blood flow.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
“You know, a therapist might be able to help you with that.”
I hadn’t realized I’d said that out loud. I scowled at Sabrina. I was being the responsible adult, and she was giving me a hard time about how I handled my shit? “I had to see plenty of shrinks while I was in the hospital. They didn’t do shit.”
“You have to let them in for it to help. If you don’t, it’s a waste of your time and theirs.”
I’d about had it with people telling how me how to live my life. “You’re talking like it’s something you know about.”
“Because I do.” She sighed and turned her head like she wanted to watch Bella and the pups, but I knew. She couldn’t bear to look at me. “A little bit after you left, I went through some stuff, and I needed help. Eventually I found someone to talk to and it helped. I didn’t get better overnight, but my therapist helped me get through it.”
“If therapy is such an amazing cure-all why don’t you practice what you preach? Take your parents to a therapist.”
Sabrina pushed herself to her feet. “I probably will. But I need to work through some of it myself first. I only found out yesterday. Give me a second to catch my breath.” She pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen. “Thanks for the floorshow, and for stopping when it got out of control. I assume you’re okay to get your crew home?”
She switched gears so fast I was having a hard time keeping up. Or maybe that had something to do with the champagne. “I, uh, I’ll call a friend to help me out.”
“Nice to know you still have a few of those left. My Uber is a few minutes out, so I’m gonna head. Night.”
And before I could say anything, she left.
What the hell just happened?
Bella groaned in her box and the cloths rustled as her tail wagged. I hurried to her side, concerned she was in pain, but she looked fine. I leaned over and patted her head. “I know I said it a few times already, but you did an amazing job, Bella. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
She panted and closed her eyes, clearly exhausted from her ordeal.
I was, too.
Or maybe I was exhausted from Sabrina. Who the hell could tell at this point? I still wasn’t sure what had just happened. All I did know was that it was time for us to head home.
I sighed and pulled out my phone to make a call.
“Hey Travis. I know it’s late, but I need some help.”
“Uh… okay.” His voice sounded kinda groggy like I’d woken him up. “What’s going on?”
“I, uh…” I watched the sleeping dogs in front of me as a grin stretched across my face. “I have five babies.”
Chapter Seven
Sabrina
I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Groaning, I buried my head under my pillow. I’d like to be able to say I didn’t remember putting the moves on Logan, but apparently, I hadn’t been lucky enough to drink that much.
I didn’t know what was more pathetic—the fact that I made out with a guy who ghosted me, or the fact that he’d been the one to stop us from taking it further.
I decided not to think about it as I showered and got ready. Instead, I thought about my screwed-up situation with my parents. Parents, plural—that part alone was crazy. I couldn’t think about my mom without getting really pissed off, but I was so curious about my dad. Who was he? Where had he been for the past twenty-six years? When did he find out about me? What kind of relationship did he want now?
What kind of relationship could we even have? We were both adults and strangers.
The churning in my stomach had nothing to do with my hangover.
As I drove to the restaurant, I tried not to let the anxiety get to me. It was early enough that my mom shouldn’t be at the restaurant. I really wanted to pick up whatever info my dad had left behind for me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I couldn’t see her car in her usual spot in the parking lot.
I was free and clear.
The staff was gearing up for the Sunday brunch rush, so I was left alone as I searched Angela’s hostess stand for whatever note my father left for me. With my head buried in the cupboard, someone jostled me from behind. But when I turned around, all I could see was a skinny, older man leaving. No apology or even a smile. Rude asshole. I continued to search, but I found nothing.
Maybe it was in the office instead? Where else could it be? Angela wasn’t here yet either so I couldn’t ask her. I just really hope my mom wasn’t holding onto it. As I ducked through the kitchen on my way to the office, my mom’s voice rang out.
“Sabrina? Sabby is that you?”
I closed my eyes with a wince. Shit.
But no, I’d found my inner badass yesterday in the shop when I stood up to Logan. I couldn’t let my guard down now. Straightening my shoulders, I ignored my mom and barreled into the office.
Or I would have, if the door wasn’t locked.
The knob shoved into my belly and I let out a horrible groan/gasp that sounded an awful lot like a dying donkey.
Seriously?
“Are you okay, honey?” My mom’s oddly meek voice came from somewhere behind me.
“I don’t…I can’t do this right now, Mom. I just want whatever info he left for me with Angela. Did she leave it in the office for me?”
A taut silence that even the busy kitchen couldn’t mask hummed between us. And then my mom answered in a voice that was devoid of all personality. “The letter Brian left is in the office. Let me unlock the door for you.”
“I have a key,” I answered.
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”
It burned me to have such a stilted conversation with my mom. She’d always been one of my best friends. But I was so pissed at her. How could she lie to me for so long? And why?
I didn’t want to see her, let alone talk to her. I had to get my shit together first.
After unlocking the door, I rustled through the ridiculous amount of paperwork on the desk. It’d only been two days ago, you’d think it’d be at the top of one of the piles, but no. After five aggravating minutes, I found an envelope with my name on it pinned to the corkboard over the computer. Calling myself ten kinds of moron, I grabbed it, locked the door behind me, and headed for the back door.
Where I found my mom’s car parked.
I rolled my eyes at my foolishness and all but ran around the building to my car. My emotions were so close to the surface, I didn’t want to risk running into anyone else. But of course, I literally ran into a guy leaning against the side of the building. I turned to apologize, but he ran away like I’d caught him doing something.
What was it with people today?
Annoyed, I stomped to my car. Finally, I collapsed behind the wheel and stared at the envelope in my hands.
It felt so momentous. To open it. See my dad’s handwriting. Read his words. Like once I did it, I couldn’t turn back. My pulse thrummed in my ears.
But I had to know. With shaking hands, I ripped open the envelope.
Sabrina,
I don’t even know what to write. I wish I could go back and change so many things. I swear I didn’t know about you until a few weeks ago. But I do want to get to know you, more than anything. I’ll be staying at the Hyatt downtown for the next few days. Maybe longer depending on how things go. I’ll wait for you to make the next move.
Call me
anytime.
Brian
415-555-5145
I blew out an unsteady breath. He wanted to get to know me. That made me feel… I couldn’t even process it. I just felt numb. My whole world had flipped over, and now I had to figure out how to untangle the mess. I didn’t even know where to start.
I wanted to google him, but I realized I didn’t know his last name. How fucked up was that? I grew up thinking Brian Johnson was my father. Hell, I had every line of that article and obituary memorized. Now I realized it wasn’t real. Well it probably was for whoever Brian Johnson had been engaged to at the time, but he wasn’t my father.
My father was someone else. Brian with a San Francisco area code. It wasn’t much to go on. Instead of searching him, I plugged the phone number into a search engine. All it came back with was what I already knew—it was a San Francisco number. It didn’t appear to be linked to a social media account or any kind of professional business.
I knew nothing.
Except that my father wanted to know me.
I’d overthink it if I let myself, so I keyed in his number and hit dial.
My heart pounded so loud I was pretty sure it was gonna burst. I listened to the line trill. Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Shit, he wasn’t going to answer.
Should I leave a voicemail? That would be hella awkward. What would I even say?
Four times.
“Hello?” A deep voice answered.
“Uh, hi.” I squeaked. Rolling my eyes at myself, I took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm my nerves. “It’s Sabrina. Is this a good time?”
“Of course it is. Any time is good if you want to talk.”
“Okay. Good.”
An awkward silence hummed as I tried and failed to find something to say.
“Uh.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? Maybe we could meet up somewhere and have some breakfast. Maybe?”
He sounded so uncertain and nervous, which I found oddly comforting. Probably because I felt the same way. “Sure. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Great. Uh, It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Maybe you could recommend a place?”
Clearly my mom’s diner was out. We couldn’t go to Bacon & Butter either since we were bound to run into my brothers there. “Um, how about Orphan?”
Shit. Did I really just say that?
“It’s a breakfast restaurant, I swear. I’m not being a smartass or whatever.” I laughed nervously as a tingly, light-head sensation swept over me. “I’m not an asshole. I really do want to get to know you. You said you’re at the Hyatt, right? How about we meet at Wild Flour? The name’s a play on words—flour like bread, not flower like a rose. It’s just around the corner from your hotel and doesn’t have any awkward name issues aside from the spelling of flour. And I’ll just—”
“Sabrina.” He interjected with a laugh. “It’s fine. Really. We can meet wherever you want, regardless of what the place is called. I just want to spend some time getting to know you.”
I closed my eyes with a sigh. “Thank you.”
“So which will it be? Wild Flour or the ill-named Orphan?”
I laughed. “Wild Flour since it’s closer to you. I can be there in twenty.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
I ended the call and sank back into my seat. That could’ve gone worse, I guess, although not by much. I took a second and set him up as a contact in my phone, but I hesitated as to what to call him. Brian? Dad?
Dad.
A stupid grin stretched across my face.
I had a breakfast date with my dad.
* * *
Parking downtown was always a pain, but since it was Sunday, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I found a spot around the corner and walked the rest of the way. No one was waiting out front, so I pushed open the door and took a second for my eyes to adjust.
“Sabrina! Over here.”
I couldn’t stop the giddy smile spreading across my face as my pulse thrummed in my ears. Even the cacophony of Sunday morning breakfast service couldn’t mask the sound of my pounding heartbeat.
“Hey. Hi.” I squeaked when I reached his table.
“I’m so glad you called.” He smiled back at me as he gestured to the chairs opposite him. “Please, sit.”
“Thanks,” I murmured as I pulled out a chair and sat.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was fairly attractive for a middle-aged man. When I saw him a few days back—and before I knew who he was—something about him had seemed familiar. Now I could see that we had the same eyes, both in color and size. And our mouths had the same full shape and slightly fuller upper lip.
I could see myself in him.
“Well…” He had done his own survey of me while I’d been doing the same to him. “You look so much like your mother. It’s uncanny really. Like I’m looking into my past.”
I blinked. “Wow. Really? I was thinking the opposite. I’d always wondered if my father had blue eyes, since Mom has hazel like all my cousins. I would’ve asked her, but…”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t need to finish the thought. We obviously both had complicated feelings about my mom right now.
He cleared his throat. “I really wanted to—”
“Nice to see both of you are here.” Our waitress interrupted. “What can I get you to drink? Coffee? Or maybe a bloody Mary or mimosa?”
We both put in our orders for drinks and food. I didn’t need to look at the menu and my father dittoed my order of cream cheese stuffed challah French toast with a side of bacon.
“Tell me about yourself.” My dad smiled after the waitress left. “Where do you work? What do you like to do for fun?”
“Well, uh, I’m an accountant for my family’s custom motorcycle shop, and I also do the books and payroll for Mom’s diner. Nothing exciting really. And for fun? I don’t know. I read romance books and get together with some girlfriends for a night out here and there. I’m kinda boring really.”
“Hmmm, you also kinda skipped over the whole reality show thing. What’s it called? Badass Builds?”
Our waitress set our waters down with a thud. “I was just going to ask that. You’re the blonde from that motorcycle show, right? How’s that one guy doing? Ryan, right?”
I smiled tightly. This part was always kinda weird. I never got used to people recognizing me. I was hardly on the show after all, but everyone was always about the Burns Brothers. “Ryan is doing well, thank you. He’s had a year to heal and now is a dad with a baby girl that he and his fiancé love to pieces.”
“Aww, that’s great.” She beamed. “You tell him and his brothers that we love the show. Maybe you can get them to come in for breakfast sometime.”
“I’ll tell them,” I replied but not meaning it. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked about my brothers… And it wasn’t just because of the tv show. This had pretty much been my entire life—girls, and then later, women, trying to get close to me because of them. They were too hot for their own good.
“I’ll have your order out in a jiffy.” She smiled again and spun around, heading to her next table.
“It’s how I found out about you, you know.”
I frowned as I turned back to him. “What is?”
“All the news coverage around Ryan’s attack and the television show. I saw you in the some of the pictures and then on the show—and I knew. You look so much like your mother at your age, and with your eye color…” He shook his head. “So I got online and searched for anything I could find about you.”
“Oh.” I really didn’t know how to reply to that.
He tilted his head as a small smile curved the lips that I thought looked so much like my own. “I was really impressed with what I found. CPA who spends her free time reading to the elderly.”
“My best friend, Maddie is a librarian so…”
He raised his eyebrows. “So tha
t means you have to volunteer? She twists your arm to do it?”
“Well no.” I shrugged, uncomfortable.
“Exactly. I read some interview online where you said that you went into accounting to help support your family? That you wanted to go to med school instead?”
“Veterinary school, actually,” I mumbled.
“I wish you didn’t have to give up on your dreams so soon. I wish I could’ve been there for you.”
I felt a pang in my chest, and I just melted. All I’d wanted, for as long as I could remember, was a father who loved and supported me. “Honestly, I wish that too. I was so jealous of my friend Maddie’s relationship with her dad growing up. He was always there for her, you know? I mean I had more family than I could ever need, but I wanted a father. My brothers—technically they’re cousins but we’re more like siblings—they tried to fill that role, but it’s not the same. I knew it wasn’t the same.”
An awkward silence fell as we both contemplated all that we’d missed out on.
After a moment, I cleared my throat. “I might not have been able to go to veterinary school, but I did help deliver a litter of puppies last night. Five of the cutest puppies you’ve ever seen, and all of them and their mother are doing fine. It was pretty amazing.”
He gave me this sad smile that I felt deep inside because my story was a sad substitute for what could’ve been.
Soon after, our breakfast arrived along with our effusive waitress. Once we finally shooed her away, we dug into our meals.
“So tell me about yourself,” I prompted. “I take it from your phone number that you live in San Francisco?” I tried to steer him away from the dark cloud hanging over us that was my mother’s deception and the time we missed out on.
“Mmmm,” he hummed while he finished chewing. “Well I do live in the bay area. I was an engineering manager at Lockheed Martin, but I retired last year. So I’ve been mostly filling my days fishing, living the dream. I was married, but my wife and I divorced about eight years back—around the same time as what I thought was my only daughter graduated from high school.”
“D-D-Daughter?” I couldn’t feel my lips. A burning sensation swept over my scalp and my ears rang.
Spark: A Bad Boy's Second Chance Romance (Burns Brothers Book 3) Page 6