No Apologies

by Sybil Bartel

  Gunnar had texted Jep a few times but he hadn’t mentioned Friday. If I was being honest, the house would feel empty without him. I knew Jep had a right to a relationship with him and I wouldn’t stand in his way, as long as it was what Gunnar wanted.

  I watched Gunnar closely all week for signs that he’d need help coping with everything that had happened. I’d looked up a shrink for kids in town but so far Gunnar had seemed okay. Sometimes he’d let a snippet about his life come out but mostly, he seemed to be enjoying just being a kid and happy to have company. Each day he got a little more talkative and spent less and less time in his room by himself. If he read one of his books now, he did it in the living room. I figured that was a good sign.

  Everything seemed to going good, except for the gnawing ache in my chest. I missed Carly more than if you’d taken music away from me. The hardest part? Every time I had some small breakthrough with Gunnar, I wanted to call and tell her, which was strange, because I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about Gunnar. Now, I wanted to tell Carly everything. But I couldn’t do that to her. My life was too complicated and she deserved more than I could give her.

  Friday before work, I asked Gunnar if he was going to Miami and he shrugged.

  “Why don’t you go? I’ve got gigs Friday and Saturday night anyway. It won’t be fun being home alone.” Honestly, I’d been stressing the gigs. I’d contemplated asking Sam to come over but she usually went to the shows. I knew Gunnar was old enough to leave alone but I didn’t want to do it and I wasn’t going to bring him to a club, no way.

  “I used to be alone a lot.” He said it like it was no big deal.

  That’s because Georgia wasn’t only abusive, she was neglectful. But I didn’t say that. “Well, now you don’t have to. Want me to ask Neil what he’s up to?” My resources for this sort of thing were limited at best.

  “Neil?”

  Shit, I forgot, he hadn’t met all the players in my life yet. “Myles’s uncle. Think bigger, quieter, taller and a hell of a lot less smiles, and you’ve got Neil.” And not fun, and scary, and accented and ex-Special Forces. Yeah, Neil was a terrible idea, he’d scare the shit out of Gunnar. He scared me.

  “Are you asking if I want a babysitter?” Gunnar asked, incredulous.

  Trying like hell not to smile, I put my hands on my hips and schooled my features. “Not cool?” I asked, deadpan.

  Gunnar stared at me with cold, hard eyes, except he was a kid.

  I cracked a smile and put a hand on his shoulder. “Nice. You keep practicing that mean mugging.” I chuckled.

  His ghost smile showed up. “Not good enough?”

  “You’re right there, bro,” I fibbed. Gunnar didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was more like Jep than he realized.

  “You’re lying.”

  But he was smart as hell. “You’re right but spend enough time with me and something’s bound to rub off.”

  “You’re not mean,” Gunnar said with the absolute honesty of an eleven-year-old kid.

  My heart went soft. “I appreciate that. Now, go pack a bag if you want to go with Jep.”

  A half hour later we went to the shop and Gunnar had his backpack with him.

  “You all set with Jep or do you want me to call him?”

  “I texted him.”

  “How’s your new phone working out?”

  “Okay.”

  “You know how to use it?”

  “Yeah.” He was less than enthusiastic.

  I knew the feeling. “Not a phone man?”

  “Not really. I’d rather have a Swiss Army knife.”

  I faltered. “You want a Swiss Army knife?” He had nothing but the clothes I’d bought him and a backpack full of stolen books. I didn’t count the computer and tablet, they were for school.

  He shrugged.

  “Pick one out online when we get to the shop and I’ll buy it.” Christ, he hadn’t asked me for a thing. I had a house full of shit, this kid had nothing and all he wanted was a knife? I’d buy him a hundred fucking knives. “And let me know next time you need something. I got you covered, okay?”

  “Okay.” Then, “I think I’d like some new sneakers.”

  “You got it.”

  We went to the shop and spent the next half hour shopping, man style. Gunnar picked out two pairs of sneakers, a killer Swiss Army knife, two baseball hats, a case for his phone and a dozen books, all online. We had everything sent two-day shipping.

  “You know you could’ve ordered those books as ebooks and downloaded them to your tablet?” In fact, I’d set him up with his own account so he didn’t have to ask every time he wanted a book to read.

  “I like having the book.”

  “Okay.” But I’d still set him up with the account. “I’m going to do some work. What time is Jep picking you up?

  “Noon.”

  “Should we get lunch before he gets here?”

  “He said we’d go out to lunch.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll come down Sunday and get you but, Gunnar?” I waited till he looked at me. “If you want to come back before then, no matter what time, day or night, you call me and I’m there. Okay?”

  Bright green eyes looked at me with an expression I’d remember the rest of my life. Trust.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Hate

  The house was too empty after work without Gunnar. I showered and changed and went to the club to set up for the gig. More than anything, I wanted to see Carly. I wanted to see her smile and I wanted to hold her in my arms. What I’d been about to yell at her that drunken night, I knew now it was true. I never wanted to love and I never wanted anyone to love me. I didn’t even think I was capable of it, but having Gunnar in my life, I realized I was dead wrong. I loved that kid. And now I wished I hadn’t been so stupid when I’d actually had a shot with Carly. All the reasons why I thought I shouldn’t be with her, the ones before Gunnar? I knew now they were bullshit. I was scared and that was the truth of it. But now Gunnar was my priority.

  After setting up for the gig, I forced myself to put on my game face then texted Gunnar before we went on.

  Me: Old man treating you right?

  Gunnar: Yeah

  Me: We go on in a few, just wanted to say goodnight

  Gunnar: Oh, ok. Good luck and good night

  Me: Thx. Call u tomorrow. Miss having u around

  Gunnar: Miss u too

  I played my fucking heart out. It was one of our best shows. We played new material we’d been working on and I closed the show with the new version of “Break.” Afterward, there were at least thirty people backstage, mostly women. I had half a dozen opportunities to take advantage of my night off but the thought of going home with one of the groupies made my stomach turn. None of them were Carly.

  I disappeared to my office to do paperwork until the club closed. I’d told Myles I’d needed to catch up but I just didn’t want to go home to an empty house. A half hour after closing, I left.

  I made it as far as opening my car door when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The only warning I had was a rush of unnatural wind and I was pushed right between my shoulder blades. I had to force myself to go limp and drop my weight. It was counterintuitive to every instinct of fight or flight. Forcing even breaths, I spun as I dropped. Using my right leg and right arm, I swung low and caught my attacker in the legs. Following the momentum, I threw my body up and forward and landed a solid uppercut to his ribs then another to his jaw.

  I was quick and most of what I knew was instinctual. When his head snapped back from the uppercut I saw Harlan’s face. Then I got pissed. Really pissed. My left hand bleeding, I threw a right-handed punch to the side of his head.

  “You dumb motherfucker.” My voice sounded calm, cold.

  Harlan swung out blind and I smelled the alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

  “You don’t love her!” Harlan cried and threw another punch. He grazed my ribs.

  Oh fuck no. “I’m not in a char
itable mood. You swing again, it’ll be your last. That’s a fucking promise.”

  “You broke her heart! You’re a fucking asshole and you broke Carly’s heart. You don’t deserve her.”

  That was it, this motherfucker was going down. “And now I’m gonna break you, you fucking dick.” I knew it wasn’t a fair fight against a drunken piece of shit, but I didn’t care. I wanted blood. “Take your best shot.”

  To give him credit, Harlan didn’t hesitate. He rushed me. When his shoulder hit my stomach, my head whipped back and slammed against the open doorframe of the Barracuda. Wet warmth instantly covered the back of my neck. I grabbed his shirt and threw him, hard. Pissed about my car, pissed about Carly, pissed about Gunnar being alone for eleven years, and even more pissed that Harlan was right, I kept after him, hitting him until he stumbled and fell.

  Then I didn’t stop. I dropped my knees on either side of his chest and started punching him. Blow after blow, left, right, left, right, his face, over and over. I fucking hated him. I hated my fucking mother and I hated all this fucking hate.

  Harlan went limp.

  Forcing my arms to go loose at my sides, I stood and roared into the night. Rage, frustration, adrenaline, it was all there. “Fuuuuuuuuck!”

  I stumbled back against my car and fished my cell out with blood all over my hands. I could barely see the screen through the red smears to scroll through my contact list but I dialed.

  Hank picked up on the first ring.

  “I need you back at the club, ASAP.”

  “Do I need backup?”

  “No, just fucking hurry.” I hung up.

  His nose broken, his eyes already swelling shut, Harlan was limp as I dragged him to my car. I propped him up against the side so he didn’t choke on his own blood. The fucking shithead was lucky he was still breathing.

  Hank pulled up a few minutes later. Getting out of his truck, he sized me up and went to squat by Harlan. “What happened?” He took Harlan’s pulse.

  “He fucking jumped me.” I touched the back of my head and winced.

  Hank eyed me then stood. “Turn around.”

  No point in hiding it, I did as he said.

  “You’re gonna need stitches.”

  “Fuck.” I turned back around and put my hands on my hips, ignoring my aching ribs.

  Hank glanced at my bleeding knuckles. “How you wanna handle this?”

  Carly had said Harlan wasn’t a fighter. I decided to take a chance. Even though he’d attacked me, it’d be his word against mine and his injuries alone could get me arrested. Been there, done that.

  “Do you mind calling 911 and telling them you found him like this after you closed up?” I knew Hank would cover for me but I still had to ask. He was already pulling his phone out.

  “Get outta here, I got this.” He waved me off, putting his phone to his ear. “I need an ambulance...”

  I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I kicked Harlan to his side, jumped into the Barracuda and took off.

  I thought about my options. I could go to the emergency room, where they’d ask questions and where Harlan would be. I could call a nurse I knew but that’d lead to something else and I wasn’t going there. Fuck. I could drive to the next town over and go to that ER.

  In the end, there was no choice. I called Neil.

  “I need a favor.”

  “And you’re calling me?” he asked dryly.

  “I need repairs.”

  “Piss another woman off?”

  Fucking accented prick. “I got jumped. I need stitches.”

  He chuckled. “I’m at home, come on over.”

  “I’m bleeding all over the place. Come to my place.”

  “I’m not your personal nurse.”

  “I’m asking nicely.” It took everything I had to keep my voice level. I reminded myself he was doing me a favor.

  “No, you’re not,” he said, voice smug.

  I lost patience. “Get the fuck over here!”

  “Temper, Allen.” He hung up.

  Twenty minutes later, Neil pulled his full-size pickup into my driveway and got out like he had all the time in the world. Fucker did it on purpose to piss me off. I almost didn’t care, my head was throbbing so fucking bad.

  Black backpack in one hand, he eyed me skeptically. “You bleed like a bitch in heat.”

  I stood up from my front step and walked in. He had a point. I’d waited out front so I didn’t bleed all over my house.

  “How did you get knifed on the back of your head? That’s going to be difficult to stitch. You should go to the hospital, get it stapled.”

  “I didn’t get knifed, and no hospital.” I walked into my kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Jameson’s.

  “Your call.” He dropped his case on the kitchen table. “Turn around.”

  I pulled out a chair and sat.

  Neil looked for a second. “You need to wash some of this blood off.”

  I pushed the chair out, went to the sink, lowered my head and turned on the faucet. I almost passed out when I bent over.

  Grabbing a towel, Neil took over and I was glad. He turned the water to barely a trickle and ran it back and forth. A minute later I was back in the chair. He opened the Jameson’s and handed the bottle to me.

  “Drink, this is gonna hurt.” Sounding almost happy about that, he put on latex gloves and pulled shit out of his backpack.

  I threw back a couple of swallows and dropped my chin to my chest, bracing myself. I’d had plenty of stitches but always with Novocain. I had a high tolerance for pain but I flinched when Neil put the first stitch in. It fucking hurt like hell.

  Neil pushed my forehead to the table. “Don’t move.”

  The one thing I can say about Neil, he was quick. I gripped the table and a few minutes later he was done. He put antiseptic on and I kept breathing through my nose, trying to get past a wave of nausea.

  “Go shower and wash the rest of the blood off. When you come back I’ll check out your hand and put a bandage on your neck. Then we’ll drink. I bet this is good story.”

  I did as he said. Another thing I could say about Neil, he was unflappable. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I respected that. When I got out of the shower, I had a text from Hank.

  Hank: Your punching bag is at the hospital. Cash Sullivan took the call. He said the guy’s a jerk. We shouldn’t have a problem

  Me: Thanks. Owe you one

  Hank: You owe me more than one

  Jesus, he wasn’t kidding.

  Neil fixed up my hand with a butterfly bandage and covered the stitches on the back of my neck. Grabbing glasses, he poured two hefty drinks.

  “What happened?” He handed me one.

  “I got jumped by one of the FBC fighters.”

  Neil raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming he looks worse?”

  “He was unconscious. He’s at the hospital.” I didn’t tell him he was drunk as shit.

  “It was personal?”

  Shit, I didn’t want Neil to know about Carly. “Let’s just say I like his ex.”

  Neil almost smiled. “Hope the hour it took you to fuck her was worth it.”

  “I didn’t fuck her.” I glared at him.

  Neil sipped his drink, watching me. “That may be a first for you. What’s she look like?”

  Tired, hurting, I let my guard down. “Blonde, blue-eyed, pretty.”

  His drink halfway to his mouth, Neil froze for half a second then took another sip. “A blonde, blue-eyed bartender?”

  I sat up straighter. “What the fuck do you know about it?”

  “Nothing, except you ran half naked through the club chasing her after fucking a groupie in your office.”

  Elbows on my knees, I hung my head. The image of what I must’ve looked like flashed through my mind. I shook my head and sat back up. Who was the fucking tool now?

  Neil threw his drink back and refilled our glasses despite me not having drunk mine. “You need to work on your dignity.”
/>   “No fucking shit.” I couldn’t even be mad at Neil, he was right. That night was the pinnacle of my fuckups with Carly. Or maybe the date was, it was a tossup.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “So what happened?” Neil finally asked.

  “Nothing. I became an insta-dad and cut her loose.”

  “Ah.” Neil leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  I’d never seen him relax before. Ever. Neil usually sat with his elbows leaning on his knees as if he was ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

  “Your brother is younger than Myles was when I took him in,” Neil said casually. But nothing about what he was saying was casual. Neil didn’t share. We’d never talked about this. I knew next to nothing about Neil personally. Never mind the fact he seemed to know everything about my situation without me having told him a single word of it.

  Neil sipped his drink. “I’ll admit, it is a different situation. Myles wasn’t abused. His heart was broken but he wasn’t damaged.” He eyed me. “You will have your work cut out for you. This is not going to be easy.”

  “I don’t need it to be easy.” Gunnar was worth anything he could dish out. Fate dumped him in my lap. I didn’t deserve him, but I got him and I knew he was a gift. “I need him healthy and hopefully, one day, happy.”

  “Maybe there is hope for you yet, Allen.” Neil held his glass up, threw it back then stood. “Word of advice from someone who’s been where you are?”

  I nodded.

  “Be a better man than the best man you think you can be. Then, maybe, you’ll do half a decent job of raising a child.”

  I just stared at him. Was he saying he did less than a great job of raising Myles? Myles was the most solid person I knew. “You’re scaring me.” If Neil thought he’d fucked up with Myles, what kind of fucking chance did I have with Gunnar?

  “Börn er vis sorg, men uvis gläede.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Children are definitive sorrow but untold joy.” Neil put his hand on my shoulder. “Everything is as it should be.” He walked to the front door then glanced back. “But maybe you should not dismiss a woman willing to love you.”