Should we talk about the possibility of something else between us? What should I say? Should I explain the feelings that are bottled up inside me? My heart beats, full of need and desire, for her. She’s the only one who can take away everything that’s wrong inside me and replace it with goodness. The goodness she radiates to the world.
Lowering my face towards hers, I capture her lips. Slow, gentle as if asking her for permission to allow my mouth to make love to hers. Searching for her soul within her body, that same soul that has crumbled a few times in front of me. The same soul I want to protect for the rest of my life. I try to talk myself into understanding that maybe this might only be for tonight, because tomorrow isn’t promised.
“Everything is going to be alright,” I blurt out, as I break the kiss. Her eyes shine, her hands hold my face, and she nods her head. Because I need to feel closer to her, I decide to leave. “It’s time for me to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Is everything alright?” She asks, confusion written all over her face.
“Yes, it is,” I kiss her forehead and leave the place.
Ever since my father died, things have changed between Mac and me. We live in a different place where we seek each other out. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are with the kids. At night, we spend time in her living room while I play my guitar. For the first time in years, I celebrated Thanksgiving. Finn is like a little duckling following behind me when I’m around and he loves it when I play for him. He responds to music. Old McDonald is our favorite song. Mac’s too, as she can hear Finn mooing and quacking away. I can feel it; the words will come soon.
Pretending that I belong with them is easy. Harper’s sassiness has me wrapped around her pinky finger. Finn is my companion and Mac . . . she’s the sun fighting the dense clouds and illuminating my days and nights. But is it okay that she has that much power in my life? Does she even have that kind power over my heart? I fear slipping into the cracks, and if it happens, my heart will take a beating. Will I lose myself the same way I did when AJ was no longer mine?
I should stop whatever is going on with us. But instead, I stop analyzing it and head out to work. As predicted, the medical bills arrived. Two thousand dollars for a visit to the ER slashed my savings. It’s going to take me a few months to pay the entire amount and then start saving again. Some days, I want to ignore the figurative restraining order imposed by Mason Bradley and head into off-limit territory, or at least make the call. I wouldn’t care if he fucks up my face again if it means that AJ would help Finn. But for now, I work hard in the hope that what I make is enough. Christmas is coming up soon and Harper has her eye on a guitar. Finn . . . I’ll find something for him, and for Mac, too.
When I cross the driveway from Molly’s house to Mac’s, I come to a halt. There’s a short man holding a box with one arm and knocking on the door with the other.
“May I help you?” I ask, walking closer to him.
“I’m looking for Porter Kendrick,” he says, reading the label on top of the box.
“That’ll be me,” I respond.
He hands me the box and turns his attention to the messenger bag he carries over his shoulder. Pulling out a manila folder, he takes out a few papers then clears his throat. “My name is Ernest Johnson, a lawyer for Butler, Kepler, and Associates. Our offices in Alabama worked a pro-bono case for Steven Kendrick. We’re carrying out his last wishes. Those are his ashes.”
As he points to the box I hold, my eyes widen. Shit, why is he giving me ashes? “Why me?”
“Mr. Kendrick left his estate to you.”
“Estate?” My father was broke. Just like I am.
“Well, it is a technical word. It isn’t much money, only his life insurance.” He hands me the papers and a pen. “Sign the top paper, the bottom one and the check is yours. Here is my business card if you have any questions for the next step. There’s a letter that he left too.”
I sign the papers, hand it to him, and look through the other documents that explain what my father left and the check for seventeen thousand dollars.
“Where is the letter?”
“If you read at the bottom, it says that you can’t claim it until you do what he asked for.” I read through it and there’s only one word. Change. With a slight nod, Ernest Johnson leaves me standing in the cold and not knowing what to do with what I’m holding.
As the lawyer walked toward his black sedan, I knocked on Mackenzie’s door and unloaded what just happened. She took the shipping box away from my hands and opened it. It’s a black urn; thankfully, she didn’t open it to verify if there was something inside. “I have no idea what to do with it,” I finally say after walking back and forth from the entrance to the dining room several times.
Hell, this is the last thing I expected. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. A letter, an insurance policy, and his ashes. I only want the letter. What is it that he has to say?
“I can set the ashes next to Leo’s,” Mac says, and I don’t know what’s more disturbing: her serenity regarding the box she now holds, or that her husband’s ashes are in my house. Well technically it’s her place, but I used to live here.
“Don’t they have to be at a cemetery?”
She shrugs, shakes her head, and sets the box on top of the coffee table. “You should use that money to look for your foster parents.” She walks toward me, her expression filled with worry. “Sometimes we get an opportunity to write a new story. This might be your chance to find peace with your family.”
Mac is right; today should mean something. Tomorrow is another day, but nothing guarantees me that it’ll be here. Some of the questions I ask myself every night include what would happen if I looked for them, if I found them. Would Chris let me speak? Gabe might not forgive me. That’s my biggest fear, that when I decide to take the step, they’ll turn me away and show me to the door.
“This is enough money for you to take time off.” She hands me the check.
“I have plans for that already,” I confess. “Pay a few bills and for Finn’s test.”
Mac takes a step back, her eyes stretched wide, and her head shakes. “No, that’s my responsibility.”
Pulling the sleeve of her blouse, she covers her hand and then lifts it, reaching her mouth. This is the second time I see her chewing on her sleeve. The first was while we waited in the ER. Her shoulders rise and fall, her deep breathing alarming me but I remain quiet. Not waiting for the typhoon inside her head to settle, I lift my hands to cup her beautiful face. Even the simplest contact with her affects me. Every cell of my body vibrates with the surge of electricity that her skin provokes. Mackenzie Brooke is some sort of magician who makes everything fade away. I bend my head to take what I really need before I lose the courage. This time I’m not gentle, I press my lips hard to hers, my tongue begging for access inside her mouth, and as she lets me in, I give her a deep, meaningful kiss. Feasting on her mouth, enjoying her perfume and feeling her beautiful curves with my roaming hands. “Schedule the test; I’ll be back later tonight.”
“I . . . we should probably stop,” she blurts out the words I never wanted to hear. The thump-thump-thump inside my chest slowed so drastically that I can’t hear it. “You should look for them, for her.”
“Her?” I frown.
“AJ,” she whispers. “You still love her.”
I laugh hard and loud, replacing the pain that her words caused with the most laughable reason to break up what . . . what we don’t have. “The last time I checked, she moved on, she was in love with someone else, happy now with him. AJ was my first love, but I want to think that maybe—”
She points at herself and shakes her head. “Me?” Her shoulder slump, and as she lets out a breath, she lets out the words. “No. Porter, I don’t know if I’m there yet.”
“I understand, and there’s no pressure from me,” I tell her, then tilt my head to where the check is. “Still, I want to pay for his test. Think about Finn and his future. Schedule the app
ointment.”
“Porter, can you tell me what happened to you,” her words are soft, the demanding tone not so much. “I wish you trust me with that part of yourself.”
“I loved her so much, but not enough to put her before me.” He tells me about his five-year relationship with a girl whom he grew up with. The love of his life. His eyes drift into the past and when he speaks about her, they fill with light, warming the cold night. Two amazing men gave him a home and a family. Suddenly birthdays, holidays and the possibilities of a better life were given to him after he had lost everything. But as the story continues, he describes himself as a low life, a cheater who manipulated his girl. “Not once did I notice what I was doing to her, I’m thankful that she was strong enough to survive my shit. I’m regretful for everything that I put her through. Fuck, she only deserves the best. That was my goal in the beginning but, that fame shit twists you.”
Porter continues telling me about his girlfriend being pregnant and him not giving a shit about it. Because he was too high to understand. He pulls up the sleeve of his long sleeve shirt far enough for me to read the initials and a date.
JGK
02/03
“Instead of facing my responsibilities, I lost myself in booze, women, and drugs. Mostly drugs.” His voice lowers. My heart slows down, my mind listening to every word that he says. How heartless can someone be to treat a woman that way? The love of his life nonetheless. “When I came out of the haze . . . I received a bunch of messages with pictures and . . . the day I finally went home thinking . . . Honestly, I have no fucking idea what I was thinking; I found her crying, destroyed. She had lost him. She lost James.”
I go back in time to the moment when I found out that Harper was our little-unexpected surprise. Panic rushed through my veins, because we were just about to graduate. Fear that Leo wouldn’t take it well, that he’d bail on me. None of that happened.
“A baby?” he questioned. His brows shot down, his eyes narrowed and he scratched the tip of his nose. “That’s . . . we’re going to have to adjust our plans, won’t we?” The engineer in him reacted first. Then the man I loved took over. His smile widens and arms embraced me in a delicate hug, as if I had become some fragile antique that he had to care for. He loved me more and loved Harper from that day forward.
“I was already lost when that happened, but after . . .” He traces the initials a few times before speaking again, “Something inside me snapped, I was already a jerk, but after I became an asshole who didn’t give a shit about anyone. Not even her.”
I want to touch him, make the pain he’s going through go away, but I don’t. Because I also want to slap him for being a fucking jerk. The conflicting emotions are eating me. And then there’s fear that he’s going to close himself off to me, which makes me ask the next question. “That’s why you stopped singing?”
He shakes his head.
“No. I continued doing my thing, not caring about anyone. Not even myself. A couple of years later I found out that she was dating. I tried to kill myself fearing that I lost her.” I pat him on the back as he takes another deep breath. “My family—her family sent me to rehab. I was on and off drugs for a couple of years until I found myself broke.” He chuckles. “Not surprising after I spent all my money on booze and drugs. Desperate, I got myself mixed up with the wrong kind of people that ended up threatening her life, her family’s life, and almost got me killed. The last words of one of my foster fathers were: You can’t handle fame.”
I want to sympathize with him, but how can I feel bad about a selfish man that doesn’t give a shit about anyone else but himself. Even his own baby suffered because of him.
“Physically and mentally broken, I was sent to a rehab center where I stayed for two years,” he says, rubbing his face with both hands. “It took me a long time to find myself. Later I went to work at a ranch to continue my rehabilitation. Plus, I wasn’t ready to be part of society and my counselor agreed with that. Last year I decided it was time to find a new life, whatever that is.” He shrugs. “There’s no going back in time and fixing the wrongs, but I work daily to stay on track.” He pulls up the sleeve of his other arm and there’s another set of initials: AJ.
“She believed in me since the day we met,” he continues. “I’m not pining for her, but I like to ask myself from time to time what she’s doing. Now, I live like any other person figuring out what’s next. From having millions, I ended up with only a monthly allowance from the sale of a house I owned. That’s how I pay the rent. The rest is covered by my salary.”
“That’s a lot to take in,” I tell him because there’s not much I can add since I’m confused about how I should feel.
Rage for the woman who lost so much, or sorrow because this Porter doesn’t seem like some asshole that would leave his girlfriend to suffer alone.
“I understand.” His deflated voice squeezes my heart. “My shift started an hour ago. Will you give me the chance to continue with this conversation tomorrow?”
I nod, confused by everything, but wanting to continue the conversation. A part of me wants to hug him to make him feel better. The other part of me has a strange desire to punish him for everything. Drugs destroy. I’m a living testimony. A junkie like the one he described is to blame for the loss of Leo. Deep down I know that Porter isn’t the man that he describes, he’s caring, loving.
What am I supposed to do with everything he said? Should I push him out of my life?
I rest my head on the door finding the strength inside of me to move. Tomorrow. She’s confused and doesn’t want to discuss anything more until tomorrow. For a few moments I believed in us, hoped that she’d understand. If she doesn’t, should I give up? What if I can change the other part of my life with the Deckers? Can I afford it?
My phone buzzes. It’s work, I’m running late. Do I care? I pull out the check I just received from my pocket and wonder how long it will last. It might be a check for extra money, but I have to keep my job. I have two more classes to pay for next semester to finish my degree, it’ll be stupid to lose another semester and let more time and money go to waste. Then there are Finn’s expenses, the list is never ending.
The money I received from Steven can close one chapter and maybe Mac will be willing to let me be a part of their new chapter. A friend, a companion. Anything. Rushing to the house, I grab my shit for work. I have so much to do—ask for vacation and catch up with classes before finals. If I’m lucky, everything will be fixed soon. Maybe I won’t miss Christmas.
It took me almost a week to leave town. The old Durango didn’t let me down during the three-hour drive that became a twenty-hour drive. It could drive through a hell of a winter storm, but they closed I-5 for several hours after a pileup that involved almost a hundred cars. Sheltered at one of those motels along the highway, I finished my final project while they re-opened the roads. The long drive is worth everything, each mile I drive, each minute that passes, I close the distance between my past and my present.
I want Mac to see that I am a different man than I once was. Making amends with the men that gave me everything matters. I’ll stay as long as I need to convince them that I have changed and that maybe they can let me visit them once a year, call them during the holidays, and recover some of what I lost. With any luck, I can do the same with AJ and her brothers. Fuck, am I doing the right thing by driving to Seattle? What if they’re in Albany for the holidays?
The first place I stopped by was the old house we used to live in. The compound was empty. The keys, passcodes, and everything to access the property still works, they never changed them, but the house is empty. All the furniture is covered with white sheets. The music studio is empty. I called the house in Santa Barbara and the phone is no longer in service. It took several phone calls to finally find a way to get in touch with them. From the looks of it, my foster parents have made a lot of changes in their lives. Gabe’s production company moved to Seattle and is headed by MJ Decker. Chris opened a counse
ling practice, which is close to his old record company, the latter run by JC Decker.
The counseling office is the one that gave me access to Chris without questioning my motives. Even better, the lady over the phone promised to give me an appointment with Dr. Decker today, even though they’re closed for the holidays. I hate that I lied to her by saying I was already an established patient. The beauty of calling centers is that they don’t have a database with current clients. When I park in the underground garage of his office, I lean my head on the wheel. This is a mistake. Yes, vindicating myself sounded great after receiving the news that my father died. Live every day as if it was the last, leave this life with zero regrets.
I run a hand through my hair, wondering if I am doing the right thing. Yes, this is what I need to redeem myself. I climb out of the truck, making my way to the elevator. In five minutes, I’ll see my foster father for the first time in years. The last time he only said two sentences, “You disappointed me, Porter. We believed in you.” I had disappointed him and Gabe and betrayed the entire family. Show them that you’ve changed, I repeat to myself stepping out of the elevator. Once I reach the offices, I knock on the door, but no one answers. Fuck. I lean against the wall, afraid that he won’t come after seeing my name. The elevator doors ding, relaxing my heart and giving me hope until I spot a tall woman stepping out of it.
Our gazes meet for only a few seconds; her violet eyes divert their attention to the phone she pulls out of her purse. For a couple of breaths she stares at it, biting her lip and then she addresses me. “Mr. Kendrick?”
Fuck, why is she here and where’s Chris?
She pulls out a set of keys, opens the door and when she looks at me I nod waiting for her to tell me that Chris is on his way. Instead, she says something completely different. “Let me pull your file from the drawer and we can go into my office.”
Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 11