by Mj Fields
Tessa and Dad still stare at each other for far too damn long, and then they look back at London.
“Probably just a coincidence, but I met a Zumba dancer with the same name while on vacation years ago.”
“Where?” London asks.
“Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa answers, looking down at the clipboard.
“That would be pretty cool, huh, Keeka, if Tessa and your mom met a long time ago, and now, here she is when you’re in labor?”
“Probably just a coincidence,” Keeka groans.
“Do you have a picture?” London asks.
Keeka winces in pain. “In my phone.”
London goes to grab her phone as Tessa asks, “Your father’s name?”
Dad walks over next to Tessa and puts his hand on her back.
“I don’t know. I think I met him, on a beach in New jersey. But he was introduced to me as an uncle. Had lots of those,” she jokes, but she shows emotion...sadness. “I only remember him because he looked different than the others. He was blond. Met that guy a couple times. That time is even more memorable because there was a fight at a party between him, Mom, and another uncle.”
“A fight, huh?” Dad tries to make light of the situation. “I bet he and I would have gotten along great. I was a fighter back then, too.”
“Back then?” Keeka asks.
I notice Tessa nudge him.
“When I was younger,” he back tracks.
“Yeah, well, after that, there were less uncles and more aunts, if you know what I’m saying.” She sighs.
London laughs, handing her the phone. “I don’t.”
As Keeka scrolls through her phone, she elaborates for London. “She started dating women.” She hands London back the phone. “That’s me and Mom.”
“Wow, she’s beautiful.” London smiles as she looks at the picture, then shows it to Tessa. “Isn’t she?”
It takes Tessa a bit too long to respond, and Dad’s rested hand grips the back of her shirt. “Yeah, she certainly is.”
“Do you know her?” London asks.
I watch London and think back on the day she asked Keeka about her father’s accident. In her eyes, there is a bit of that same longing for a deeper connection with Keeka.
“Oh, fuck!” Keeka grabs her belly and sits straight up.
Tessa shoves the clipboard at Dad and holds her back. “Try not to push.”
“I have to!” Keeka yells.
“Lucas, go get a doctor to check on her.”
Dad stays unmoving.
“Lucas, now, or I will.”
“Of course, of course, baby,” he says, rushing to the door.
I step out into the hall and wait for him to get a nurse. When he walks back toward me, I tell him, “Spill it.”
“Probably not a good time to do that, Logan.” He starts walking past me.
I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Dad.”
He looks at me then runs his hand through his black hair. I see a few grays peppered around his hairline that didn’t used to be there.
“We know her mother,” he admits.
“From when?” I ask firmly.
“From a long fucking time ago,” he answers.
“Dad...”
“Before your mom, Logan,” he assures me. “Tessa and I dated, lived together, grew up together. We also vacationed together. We went to Ft. Lauderdale and, yeah, we met Carmen.” He sighs.
I knew they dated, but I hadn’t realized the exact amount of time, or that it was serious enough that they vacationed and lived together.
“Ask whatever question you have so we can get back in there,” he says.
“Was Mom your first love or second?”
He looks shocked by that. “I knew your mom first, but Tessa Ross was my first love. I was hers, too. Shit timing, but looking back, I’d have gone through every ounce of that hell again. Because, if not, I wouldn’t have you or your sister. She wouldn’t have—”
“Yeah, I get it, but you and Mom, you were before Tessa?”
“Jesus L., Logan,” he sighs out.
“I’m not pissed, Dad. I just needed to know if she was your first or your second.”
“First, Logan. Tessa was my first love.”
I nod, feeling a little wave of calmness come over me.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yeah, was London’s dad involved in that Ft. Lauderdale trip? Because there’s a fucked-up connection between Keeka and London, and I never really noticed it until just now, but they have the same nose.”
Dad looks over my shoulder, and I look back to see Tessa standing behind me.
“Just want to brace myself for what’s to come,” I tell them both.
“We were visiting Troy in Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa whispers.
“And they were together?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not then, but eventually, they ended up being together.”
“Well, that’s...fucked up.”
We all look at each other when the nurse comes out. “She’s eight and a half centimeters dilated. Not long now.”
Tessa smiles at her and nods. “Thank you.”
When she walks away, I tell her and Dad, “I want to be the one who talks to Brody.”
“We don’t know anything yet,” Dad tells me.
I roll my eyes. “No one can figure it out faster than him or Maddox.”
Tessa nods. “This is true.”
“But we already know the truth, don’t we?” I ask her.
“Meaning?”
“Piper said I was gonna have a Weed, and London’s sister was, too,” I tell her.
Tessa’s hand goes to her chest as she takes in what I just told her.
“Is it yours?” Dad asks, trying to remain calm.
“No, Dad, but if the father doesn’t step up, I’m gonna have a Reed,” I tell him.
I expect him to be annoyed, talk me out of taking on extra responsibility, but he smiles and nods. “I had a Luke when I was younger than you.”
I nod, thankful he gets it.
“It’s a good thing you have an entire apartment building. Guess it’s time to get serious about that project.”
I nod and smile a little. “Guess so.”
When I hear someone clear their throat, I look around Tessa.
London.
She looks at me, then Tessa, then Dad, and back at Tessa.
“She’s my sister?” she whispers.
“Honey, we don’t know that for sure.” Tessa puts her arm around her.
“I hope she is. That way, I know we can help her.” London reaches up and pulls her hair.
“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp.
“Get two baggies. Put this in one and call Maddox. I want to know the truth now. I’ll go get hers.”
I grab her arm before she walks in. “Hey, London?” She looks back at me. “Keeka will kick that pretty little ass of yours if you go yanking her hair.”
She tries not to smile as she looks down. “Can someone get me a brush?”
“I’ll go find one,” Tessa offers then begins to walk away.
“Tessa?” She looks back at me. “I think it should be you and London in there with her.”
Tessa nods. “Thanks, Logan.”
I look at Dad who smirks. Fucker.
I laugh to myself, knowing he thinks I’m still that big of a pussy after that video.
As he walks away to join Tessa, I look back at London.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her a little closer.
“Hey,” she whispers back, looking up.
I smile. “You look pretty.”
“Liar,” she scoffs. “I look like shit.”
“Gotta ask you a question,” I begin.
She pushes up on her tiptoes and grabs the back of my neck. “Yes, I told him.”
Oh hell, I think as I press my lips against hers.
Keeka’s pain-filled yell breaks us apart.
“Go,” I tell her, kissing the
top of her head. She nods. “And London?”
“Yeah?” she asks, smiling now.
“You look really good in my sweatshirt.” I wink.
She shrugs. “You should see me in your boxers.”
I have no fucking clue why I feel like the wind was just knocked out of me, but I do. Hell, I can’t say shit.
She turns to walk back into the room then stops. With her back to me, she lifts the sweatshirt and pulls her leggings down just enough to show me that she actually is wearing my fucking boxers.
“What the hell is that?” Dad laughs.
London turns quickly and groans, “Lucas, go away!”
I look at Dad, ready to tell him to back the fuck off her, but Tessa is next to him, smiling.
“Both of you may find this cute, but there’s a British man, who has actually killed a man with his bare hands, who doesn’t find this at all amusing,” I tell them.
“How the hell do you know about that?” Tessa gasps.
“Matthew, your son. Been warning me away from her for years,” I tell her.
“How did he know about that?” Tessa acts shocked.
“How the hell don’t I know about that?” Dad asks. Then he immediately says, “He touches you, I’ll kill a British man with my bare American fucking hands.”
“Relax, Links.” Tessa laughs. “We have something stronger than you both.”
“You think so?” Dad huffs.
Tessa nods. “Emma.”
“Now, how the hell would a woman be able to...?” He stops when Tessa grabs his hair and yanks him down to whisper something in his ear. He laughs as she steps back. “True.”
When Tessa walks into the room, he looks back at me.
“What did she say?” I ask.
Dad laughs. “She said the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
He smirks. “Pussy.”
I roll my eyes at his bullshit.
“Roll those eyes all you want, but the truth is, you drove through a bar’s window and faced death to save the one you’re playing with.”
“Dad, I haven’t fucked London,” I tell him.
“You can tell that to the Brit. I’m your dad; don’t try—”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
He looks at me for a few seconds then starts to laugh.
“I’m damn serious.”
He pats my back. “I know that.”
“Then, why are you laughing?”
He smiles. “Because that means you’re even more fucked than most men.”
“Meaning...?”
“You’re in love with that girl,” he says, still smiling.
“So?”
“You’re gonna start a new Revolutionary War. This time, it won’t be about tax; it’ll be about ass. Don’t worry, son; the Americans always win those. I got your back.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
The British...
Logan
Sitting in the waiting room alone, with two baggies of dark hair, I take a deep breath then send a text to—not Maddox as instructed—Brody, asking him to answer my FaceTime request, alone, in five minutes.
I sip a cup of coffee while I prop my phone up and wait for the right time to call.
He doesn’t respond, I don’t care.
Five minutes later, I hit him up on FaceTime.
When he answers, he looks pissed. Again, I don’t care.
“Need to tell you something that’s not gonna be easy for you to hear, but—”
“I will break you,” he sneers, leaning forward.
I lean in, too. “This has nothing to do with London or me. I told you earlier, she’s still a virgin.”
“She better remain that way, too,” he continues to sneer, sitting back.
I want to tell him that’s highly unlikely, but I know what he’s about to face, so I don’t buy into the bullshit.
I hold up the two bags, and he leans in again.
“This is hair from London and Keeka.”
“What the hell kind of shit are you doing?” he snaps.
“Keeka’s mother was with Troy years ago. The two—”
“Wait. What?” He looks utterly confused.
“We think London and Keeka are both Troy’s. We think they’re sisters.” I set the bags down and let him absorb that information.
“The girl who was here, the one around the same age as London?”
“They’re the same age,” I tell him.
“You suspect Troy fathered both girls?” He looks at me like I’m being ridiculous.
“They clicked right away. Keeka doesn’t click with anyone.”
“So that assumption warrants—”
“Keeka doesn’t even know her father. Possibly met him at a party on a beach in New Jersey years back.”
When I tell him that, his face drops.
“What?” I ask for clarification on his non-response.
He stammers for a few moments then looks back up at me. “She’s mine to take care of. My daughter is mine to protect.”
I sigh. “I should have fucking called Maddox.”
“What the fuck does that mean!”
“It means, he at least fucking appreciates that I give a fuck about your daughter. It means that you and I are on the same fucking team,” I snap.
He points at the camera. “You’re not on my team.”
“Good to know I’m more grown up than you,” I huff.
“You arrogant, little, fucking—”
“I don’t need a thank you for last night. Like it or not, I’m gonna be around. I’m gonna go into fucked-up situations, not caring about shit except her. I’m gonna make damn sure she’s okay. I love her. So do you. Suck it up.” I lean back, trying to calm the fuck down.
At his unresponsiveness, I look up again and continue with, “I fucking called you, not Maddox, so that you, Brody, can talk to Emma. So you can focus on whatever effect this may have on Emma, your wife, your first fucking priority. So again, I don’t need a fucking thank you for protecting London, and yeah, keeping my dick out of her because, like it or not, I’m tuned in to what she needs and what she deserves.
“I’d say nice fucking chat, but it wasn’t. I’ll give Maddox a call, because you clearly can’t keep your damn emotions in check. I’m not some arrogant fuck. I’m a man. More importantly, I’m the man your daughter is in love with, so you may want to check your shit at the door before coming at me again.”
“What? Are you going to try to make her hate me?” he snaps...again.
I shake my head. “I’m just gonna be the one sitting back, waiting to catch her when she crumbles because of you. You are gonna force a wedge so deep between you and her that it disturbs me. She fucking needs you, too. She loves you, Brody. But I’m telling you, you’re digging your own fucking grave with her.”
He says nothing, not one damn thing, and then...“Do you know I will literally snap your neck if you hurt her?”
I nod once. “Noted.”
Silence. A stare off. He cracks.
“You’ll receive a text in a few minutes. I’ll have someone pick up the samples.”
“Okay.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s London,” I tell him.
He nods, knowing damn well what I mean.
I don’t say a word when I hit the end call button.
“Fucking asshole,” I grumble.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft, hushed, soothing.
I look up as London uncrosses her arms and pushes off the door where I suspect she overheard most, if not all, of that conversation.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, I would have been preparing to defend myself. Now, it’s not necessary. Therefore, I just sit back and watch her walk over to me. She sits across the table from me and sighs.
“Tired?” I ask.
“Exhausted, I think.”
I nod. “How’s Keeka?”
A smile forms on her pretty, plump lips. “You can ask
her for yourself in about twenty minutes.”
“Yeah?”
Her smile broadens. “She has a baby girl.”
“A girl?”
She nods.
“Healthy?”
Her eyebrows knit together slightly, deep concern showing, and she nods.
I lean forward and reach across the table. She looks at my hand.
“Give it to me,” I instruct.
She doesn’t look up, but she does as I ask.
When I rub my thumb across her knuckles, she finally looks at me.
“She’s small, really small,” she whispers.
“Hope and Chance were, as well,” I remind her, hoping that reminder eases her concern.
She nods then adds, “Keeka didn’t want to hold her.”
“Why?”
“She said she was tired. She said she wanted to be alone.”
“Well, she’s not used to being around a bunch of people—”
“She works at a bar, Logan.” Her words come out clipped. I know she’s tired, confused, stressed, fucking emotional.
“That’s her stage.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That she doesn’t have people like you and I do. She’s probably overwhelmed,” I explain.
“I need her.” She scowls when she looks up at me. “She needs to hold that tiny little baby.”
Not letting go of her hand, I stand up, walk behind her, and pull her out of her chair. “She will, London.” I walk over to the waiting room couch and sit. “Now, come chill because I need you to rest.”
She doesn’t argue, and when she sits, I let go of her hand, wrap my arm around her, and encourage her to lie down. “Try to get some sleep.”
She yawns as she lies down. It takes her a minute to rest her head on my lap, but when she does, she looks up at me in confusion. “How will that baby survive this cruel world?”
I’m shocked by the question, but I need to give her an answer, one that’s truthful. “She’ll have us.”
She cocks her head slightly.
“I’m gonna make sure she takes care of her right. You’ll do the same.”
She sighs and gives a slight nod. “Are you going to tell Trucker?”
“If I call him right now, I’d fucking break him,” I answer honestly, but I don’t tell her why, and I don’t tell her how.
When she studies my face, I reach up to pull my hat down.
She stops me. “Don’t do that.”