by Toni Aleo
“How do you know that?”
“’Cause I know you can’t afford it,” he says bluntly, and my blood boils as traitorous tears fall down my face. He’s admitting to it without admitting. What a bastard. This man is not my father. My father was kind. He was a great guy. He loved us. He loved himself, and he would never do this to us. This man…I don’t know. One thing is for sure, though.
“I hate you,” I sneer as I blink through my tears.
The line goes dead, and I let my head fall to the counter with a thud. It hurts, but not as bad as the sob that racks my body. I feel it everywhere. I don’t understand how a man, a father, could do this to his children. Especially after everything I’ve done. I’ve kept Callie and myself alive through everything. I tried to help him. Tried to get him help, but he didn’t want it. Oxycodone and alcohol were and are more important than us.
I want to blame it all on the cancer, but the cancer didn’t make my dad take my mom’s pills. He did that on his own. To cope with what was happening. What the hell did I get to help me cope? Nothing. I was the strong one. Hell, I still am. And damn if it isn’t hard as fuck. I have no choice, though. I’ve got to keep Callie stable. She is going to do great things, and I can’t let the burdens that keep weighing on me affect her.
I swallow hard as I sit up, wiping my face free of tears. He doesn’t get my tears. He already took enough. And hell, I can’t change him. He is on his own; he is no longer my father. That may be a bit harder for Callie since they used to be so close. While I was close to my mom, Callie was close to Dad. They were two peas in a pod, so I know this won’t go over well. But we’ll be okay. We’ve always been okay.
When my phone rings, I see it’s my landlord returning my call. “Dusty, how’s it going?”
“Good, Aviva. How are you?”
“Living my best life. Listen, my dad broke in last night and stole all my money—”
“You’re still paying me, though?”
“Yeah, I have that. Focus, Dusty. I need to get him off the lease so if this happens again, I can call the cops on him for trespassing. Please help me.”
“I’ll need his signature to do that.”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t need it to put me on the lease, and you sure as hell didn’t need it for me to pay you monthly. Would you like to go after him from now on?”
I’m met with silence, and I find myself crossing my fingers. It’s silly, but my mom always used to do it. “Let me call my dad,” he says finally.
“Ugh! No. Dusty Senior hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t like how hostile you get.”
“I wouldn’t get hostile if he hadn’t raised my rent when he knew damn well I had just lost my mom!” I’m not going to make it. My blood pressure is through the roof, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to stroke out. “Please, Dusty. I need to make this happen.”
“Let me call him. I’ll call you back.”
The line goes dead before I can ask him otherwise. I drop my phone to the counter and let out a shout.
Could my day get any worse?
When my laptop sounds with an email, I see that it’s from Dominica. The subject is, The payment schedule you requested.
Of course it can.
Fantastic.
I open the email to find prices I wasn’t expecting. Leotards, warm-ups, and meet fees, oh my! I’m not gonna make it. I feel the stroke coming. At the end of the email, she tells me they don’t mind helping me out. I just can’t seem to allow her to. I’ll figure it out. Maybe I can sell some stuff. Or maybe I’ll win the lottery. Gotta buy a lottery ticket for that, though. I can buy one when I go out for the mayonnaise.
Oh my God, I forgot to get the mayo!
I glance at the clock, and I only have thirty minutes to get to the store and back before we open. Man, life is really coming for me today. I slam my laptop shut, but then because I’m worried, I reopen it to make sure I didn’t crack it. When I find I didn’t, I shut it again, a little more gently, and rush out with my keys, throwing my phone into my purse. I get into my Kia and head toward the store. My mind is going a million miles a minute. I have so much to do today along with running the shop. I’m gonna have to pull money out of Callie’s savings account, and that alone has me almost in tears. That money was for college and her boob job. I’ll put it back; I always do.
I’m heading south toward the store when my phone rings. I reach over to my purse, digging into it as I try to watch the road. It keeps ringing, taunting me, and I worry it’s Dusty. When I finally find it, I see it is Dusty. Frantically, I answer it as I bring it to my ear.
“Hello?”
And then I look up. Just in time to see myself driving right into a bright-red car’s ass. There is no way I won’t hit it. I brace for impact as I slam on my brakes. It doesn’t matter, because I hit the car. Hard. I hear the crack of my car and the car in front of me. Pain radiates through my head, and instantly, I deem this day complete shit. How else can it get any worse?
But the disaster isn’t over, for Dusty says, “Listen, Dad wants to sit down with you and discuss it. But I don’t think there’s a way around needing your dad’s signature.”
I wish life would use lube when it fucks me.
Chapter Four
Nico
“How’s the new therapist?”
Coming through my Bluetooth, my mom’s voice is full of tension. She didn’t like that I switched therapists, but the last one moved to start a family with her husband. I had no choice but to wish them well. My mom always calls after practice, and usually I love talking to her. But today, I’m beat. I want to go home and pass out. Practice was tough after our loss last night. Our power play was shit, and Coach was not happy. So he tortured us today. The last thing I want to talk about is my therapist.
“I like her. She’s right out of school, but everyone thinks she’s amazing. She came highly recommended. She actually interned with some of the best therapists in New York. She moved here for her family.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Why?”
“Future wife?”
I laugh. “Mom, I cannot get involved with my therapist. I need her to help me, not distract me.”
She isn’t my type either. Too supermodel thin. I like my women a little thicker than Ms. Amaya Jenkins. Plus, she looks like she’s nineteen. A baby.
“Fine. I just think it’s time to settle down.”
“What? I’m too young to settle down,” I say in an almost joking manner. I mean, I was just thinking about settling down after watching Chandler and Amelia together with the twins, but that was yesterday. It wouldn’t be bad, especially if it were with the person who was made for me. Problem is, I don’t know if that person is out there. As my mom says, I’m pretty special.
“When you find someone to be with, I won’t have to be so overprotective.”
I snort. “You’ll still be overprotective, and you’ll have her do your dirty work.”
“Exactly.”
Her laughter warms my heart. “I’m too young, Mom.”
“I had you at twenty.”
“Mom, that was a poor life choice. Should have waited,” I tease, and she laughs.
My sperm donor ran out on her when I started having health issues. Back then, there wasn’t much support for my situation, but my mom loved me enough for two parents. I had a damn good life, a full life, and it’s all because of her. When the doctors said I needed something to focus all my energy on, she’s the one who put the glove on my hand. It was my grandpa’s old glove, and I was fascinated by it. He played hockey his whole life. He didn’t make it into the NHL, but he worked his ass off for what he had. He’d go from playing for the local team to working in the factory back home. I miss him. I miss my mom, but there is no way in hell she can be here.
She has a tendency to smother me.
“Ha. I bet your grandfather and grandmother would agree,” she laughs, and I smile. “So, are you any closer to
interviews?”
My chest seizes up at the thought of it. Interviews and I don’t go together. At all. “I don’t know. Her goal is to have me ready by January first.”
“January first? Ashley was saying she would have you ready for the beginning of the season.”
“I know.” I am annoyed with how upset she is getting. I know interviews are a part of my job, but I honestly can’t handle them. Thankfully, the organization supports me and understands. The media, and the fans, don’t, but I gotta do what’s best for me. “But Amaya is saying with the change of therapist, she wants to ease me in slowly.”
“That’s unsatisfactory. We had a goal. You know how I am about goals.”
I do, which is why I am also so obsessed with goals. It’s probably why I haven’t put “Find a Wife” on my goal list. Then I’d really have to commit to that. “I know, but I don’t think I’m ready.”
She takes in a deep breath, and I can hear the disapproval. “I don’t know why Ashley had to go start a family.” I laugh, but she doesn’t. “Listen, send me Amaya’s number.”
“Why?” I say, coming to a stop at a red light. I scrunch up my face at her request.
“I want to speak to her.”
I roll my eyes as I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “Mom, you can’t keep being my advocate. I’m almost thirty—”
“I don’t care, Nicolas.” Damn, she used my full name. “You can be ninety and I’ll be on my death bed, and I will advocate for you.” She’s impossible. “Don’t make me come there.”
“Jesus, fine. I’ll send it to you once I’m ho—”
But before I can finish my sentence, I’m thrown forward, and my chest hits the steering wheel. The loud crunch of my car getting smashed behind me makes me breathless. Or maybe it’s from slamming into the steering wheel.
“What in the world was that?”
I look behind me to see a car almost in my back seat. “Fuck, I just got rear-ended. Let me call you back.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, hanging up and throwing open my door. I get out and look at the other car to find the driver with her head on the steering wheel. I rush to her, praying she’s okay. When I reach her, she’s lifting her head. Tears rush down her face, along with blood from a cut on her forehead. I pull open her door, and she looks up at me.
“I am so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, ignoring her apology. She has to be okay.
“My head hurts,” she says, wiping her forehead. “Oh, because I’m bleeding. Awesome. Could this day get any fucking worse?”
I crouch down to her eye level, panic rushing through me. I couldn’t care less about my sports car; I don’t like blood, and it’s running fast down the side of her face. I pull off my shirt, and her eyes widen.
“Usually when you get rear-ended, you get pissed, not naked.”
I smirk as I press the shirt to her head. She takes it with a smile as I ask, “Do you feel dizzy?”
“No, just a little pain. I’m okay, though,” she says, and then she starts to get out. I stand up, helping her out as she looks at the damage. She’s tall. While I’m way taller, she’s taller than most girls I meet. She’s almost to my shoulders and thick in all the right places. Her eyes are a stunning dark green and flooded with tears. Her lashes are really long, giving her catlike eyes a dramatic look. I don’t usually look people in the eye, but hers demand my attention. Her dark brown hair is up in a messy bun, and I think that’s a pen or two in her hair. She’s wearing a tight white tee with some kind of logo on it and a pair of tight black leggings somehow containing her ass. She seems completely annoyed, and when she holds out her hand, I look toward it as she says, “I’m assuming you have insurance with that flashy car.”
“I do. Do you?”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “Man, I can’t believe I did this.”
“It’s no big deal,” I say offhandedly. “As long as we’re both okay. It was an accident.”
“I was trying to find my phone, which I know is awful, but I had to answer it. Damn it, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” I say once more, looking her over. She’s really pretty.
She swallows hard as the cops and ambulance arrive. “Well, I’m glad you’re not being a dick about this because that would be the cherry on my shit sundae of a day.”
She looks distraught, and I believe today hasn’t been her best. An officer comes up to us to make sure everyone is good, and she’s led away to have her head tended to while I give my statement. I notice people have gathered, watching as the tow trucks come and begin to load up our cars. A tingling starts in the back of my throat as I answer the questions from the officer. The questions are endless. I know he’s just doing his job, but I need to move from this spot.
“Can I go check on her?”
“Who?”
“The lady who hit me.”
“Oh, Ms. Pearce? I have more questions, Mr. Merryweather.”
Pearce. Hm. I wonder what her first name is? “And I’ve got you, but I need to breathe for a second.” I don’t even give him time to stop me or even disagree before I head to where she is stepping out of the ambulance. There is a bandage on her head, and she has a no-nonsense look on her face.
“I hear you. I will go to the ER if I have any of that. I’m fine, really. I just need to get back to my shop.” The look on her face says otherwise. She has no intention of doing anything they say. When she sees me, she lets her shoulders fall. “Both our cars are un-drivable, which is fantastic. Again, I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks,” she says, tapping on her phone. “I know this probably put a wrench in your plans for the day.”
“Nope, I was just heading home. Probably go lie on the beach for a bit.”
She scoffs. “Must be nice. I gotta get home and open my shop.”
“Shop?”
“Yeah, I own Willz Sub Shop—”
“By GymMasters.”
She nods. “Yeah. My sister, Callie, goes there.”
“My boy’s girl works there as a coach.”
“Oh? Who?” she asks, dropping her phone to her side.
“Amelia Justice.”
She smiles. “That’s my sister’s coach.”
“Wow, small world.”
“Small town,” she says simply. “Listen, I gotta go. They have all my info, you know where I work, and yeah, so sorry again. Come on in for a sub on the—”
“What’s your name?”
She presses her lips together, her green depths meeting mine. Her lashes taunt me. I want so badly to pull her hair down to see how long it is. “Aviva. Aviva Pearce.”
I nod and hold out my hand. “I’m Nico Merryweather.” She takes my hand and shakes it. I feel the heat of a thousand suns radiate up my arm, but Aviva doesn’t appear to feel it. She looks annoyed and ready to go. “You should let me take you to lunch. Maybe turn that day around.”
She seems taken aback. “I possibly total your car, and you want to take me to lunch?”
My lip quirks at the side as I look away. “I’m not worried about the car.”
She scoffs. “It’s a nice car that I’m sure will up my premium, which again, is just how great my day is going.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Thanks for making me feel good about myself on this shitty day, but I don’t have time. I gotta open the shop and do sub shit. Again, sorry. Nice to meet you. Hopefully we don’t meet under these circumstances again.”
“I don’t care what circumstances as long as I see you again,” I say, stopping her mid-step.
She curves her lips, but she’s got a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “Are you messing with me?”
“Messing with you?”
“Yeah, because let’s be honest, I look like roadkill run over twice and picked through by vultures. I’m living on dry shampoo and a prayer, and you are far from that. You probably
wake up on gold sheets with someone wiping your ass. Like, hello Greek god, go find a Greek queen.”
I can’t help but grin. “All I see is a Greek queen who may need something to smile about.”
She narrows her eyes, and it wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Usually when I say that to a woman, she’s ready to get naked. Nope, not this girl. Fire fills those green eyes. “What is wrong with you?”
“Huh?”
“I legit just met you because I rammed my car into yours, and you’re hitting on me? Is this a tit for tat?”
“Huh?”
“Like, I hit you physically, so you hit on me figuratively?”
I look around myself, confused. “Yes?”
“Why? It’s not funny. My day has been complete shit, and I don’t need you fucking with me. So yeah, fuck-you-very-much.”
All I can do is blink. What just happened here? I hold out my hands in complete confusion as I watch her walk away. I’m about to run after her when the officer comes back, and he’s asking me more questions. I’m pretty sure Aviva just blew me off, and wow, that doesn’t happen to me. The only time it did was by the girl I thought was my match. I know Aviva’s day has been shit, but I meant what I said. I want to give her something to smile about.
And I think I just added an item to my goal list. To get Aviva to believe me.
Chapter Five
Nico
I would have called Chandler to come and get me, but then I remembered he’d had to stay late to film his stuff for the sports network. Since I don’t do that stuff, I was able to leave. Maybe if I had stayed for the filming, I wouldn’t be sitting between the twins in Amelia’s new minivan, with my legs across the console in the front seat while I hold the bottles for Carter and Hannah. But I also wouldn’t have met Aviva.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”
Amelia waves me off, and even though she’s driving, her eyes are like hawks on the kids. “I was out and about anyway. I can’t believe Callie’s sister hit you. She’s usually so safe when she’s driving.”