“You doubted me?” He laughs, taking the bags I carry and setting them down before he takes me into his arms. “The credit card receipts never lie. I’m surprised you didn’t buy the pony for Gracie.”
We decided to take a few weeks off without our children, Gabe’s parents, or my favorite—our grandchildren. Added to that down time was Christmas shopping for the entire family. When it came to our five little ones, we bought more than one thing for each. I even considered buying them pets. That’s when the idea of the pony came, as AJ always asked for one and we never bought it for her.
“Would you have let me buy a living creature?”
“Probably not.” He kisses my neck. “We’d need to move back to the compound and everyone has settled here in Seattle—where you said you’d move your entire life after you were done with Dreadful Souls.”
“Told you you’d like the place and dig the music,” I whisper remembering what it was like to move into a new city. Even when I liked the new scene, I missed my old routine and the only one who kept me going until I found my footing was Gabe. “We can fix this shit later, let’s go to bed.”
“We have to wrap some of them,” he mumbles, gliding his arms up and down my back, as bodies rub against each other.
“Oh for fucks sake.” I hear Matt’s voice and my dick goes flat right away. “You were alone with each other for three fucking weeks and you still have to come home and . . . Fuck?”
“What do you need, Mattie?” My question sounds like a grumble. Gabe and I release each other and when I look toward the backyard door, I find my four sons standing next to it. “Does anyone know the concept of knocking on the fucking door? Using the phone, the intercom, or at least yell that you’re coming in as you slide the glass door open.”
Gabe rubs his face with one hand, shaking his head. “The four of you coming over with long faces and Matt trying to lighten up the mood isn’t helping. What happened?”
“Porter,” Mason announces, breaking the formation they have and marching toward us. He hands me one of those folders he prepares once he has run a background check on someone. “Kendrick tried to get in touch with you a couple of days ago.”
“He made an appointment with Dr. Decker,” Matthew takes over. “Guess which Dr. Decker went to help him, Pops.” My eyes widen, remembering everything that happened to AJ, including the time that I had to run to her house when the sirens began to sound and the lights from the ambulance, fire truck and police cars came through the windows.
“Is Thea okay?” Gabe remains calm, grasping my free hand. Tristan and Matt nod.
“After Thea explained what happened, I set up a team to investigate his life since he left the ranch where he worked at. We’ve been running surveillance on him from that moment and we’re stopping later today. I flew down to Portland—that’s where he lives,” Mason continues, pointing at the folder he gave me. “That’s his life for the past few years in a nutshell. He wants to speak to the two of you.”
Gabe covers his forehead and eyes with his left hand, squeezing my hand with his right. He’s been worried about Porter. No, we both have been. Yes, he put our daughter through a fucking lot, but not knowing if he’s fine is putting us though a different kind of hell. We love our children and wish the best for all of them. The moment we took him under our care, we decided that he’d be part of us, of our family. Our fourth child.
“If you want to give him a chance, it is up to you,” Mason says. “AJ and I respect your decision and ask you to respect our decision that for now, we don’t want anything to do with him. That’s all I have to say. Only know that I won’t let him hurt the family.”
Jacob and Matthew look at each other, shake their heads, and shrug. They’ve discussed something within seconds and came to a conclusion and I wonder what it’s about.
Tristan clears his throat and Matt nods at him. “The same goes for us. I haven’t met him, but he doesn’t sound like someone I’d like to have around my family.”
“As your children, AJ, Matt, and I think that you have to talk to him,” Jacob speaks and I’m fucking confused. Because Mason said something that sounded different. “He was family and deserves to be heard. Now, in regards to my little fam, I don’t want him close to the wife or the twins. I know it’s a shitty position we’re putting you in, but we hope you understand.”
Gabe removes his hand from his eyes, his blue eyes open wide and lets out a breath. “We hear you, we respect you and I’m glad you understand that this is a decision that only concerns us. Porter . . . is he clean, Mason?”
“Yes. Read the report I prepared.” Mason looks around and shakes his head. “Do you need help opening the packages?”
“What do you think, babe?” Gabe asks, masking the feelings that the news of Porter’s return is causing him. “Should we put them to work?”
I nod, because he needs to gather some strength and talk this out. Also, tomorrow his family arrives and we need the physical space to let everyone walk freely around the house. “Yes, find me wrapping paper, boys. We have tons to do before the Colthurst clan arrives.”
“Decorating shit is Thea’s department,” Mason tells Matt and Tristan. “She should coordinate it. I’m going home.”
“Us,” Tristan corrects him. “She’ll coordinate us. I doubt your sister is going to let you go without making you a part of the project. Knowing my bossy wife, she’s going to include your father too. Let’s gather the troops and come back soon.”
The four leave from where they came from and I’m guessing we only have a few minutes before the entire family is here to help.
“What are we going to do, babe?” Gabe asks as Matthew closes the back door. “I’m still fucking mad at him, Chris. The shit he did. But . . .”
The but is what has us both thinking. If any of our children had done the same, we’d open the door for them the moment they came back to say sorry. Should that be the same with Porter? Or not, since he isn’t our biological son. No matter what we decide to do we have to set our anger and worry aside. Think of what’s best for all our kids.
“We are going to do absolutely nothing, Gabe.” I set the folder on the coffee table. “For tonight, we’re going to set Porter and what our children think aside. We have to fix what you did, you let me buy a lot of shit, and now we have to wrap everything.”
“My fault?” His body shakes with laughter. “Fuck, I love you, crazy old man. Text the children to come by in a half hour. I need you to take care of me.”
Pops: Do not come by for the next thirty minutes. Make sure to bring the grandkids when you come, though. Gabe needs a lot of family love.
“Doc, I want your professional opinion,” I say to Thea, as we head to the kitchen to start dinner.
She shakes her head. “About?” I believe she’s stalling, and assume that it’s because she knows the story about Porter and AJ. My girls are like sisters and they look out for each other.
“Porter.”
“From whose perspective?” She ties her loose hair up into a bun and lets out a breath. “Your daughter-in-law, Matt’s wife, AJ’s sister, Mason’s sister, or an outsider? Because from every angle, it looks different.”
“You saw him, can you tell me about your exchange, your impression about him?”
“He was agitated because you weren’t there,” she explains, heading to the refrigerator. “He’s definitely clean. That was Mase’s first question. If he was sober. The answer is yes. Anxious. Lost.” She turns around holding a basket filled with veggies. Man, how does she do that? Bring over all that healthy shit from her garden. I point at the basket and she gives me that sweet smile of hers. “Brought it earlier from the greenhouse. You got to eat healthy, Pops.”
“Give me your honest opinion, Thea. Not as AJ’s sister, Mason’s sister or Matt’s wife. As a doctor.” I walk towards her, grab the basket, and look her in the eyes. “The same way we consult about other patients.”
She rolls her eyes. “Family aside, I’ve been t
hinking about him after AJ and Matt told me every little detail. Taking into consideration that it’s been a few years since he got clean and his father dying—”
I take a step back, what the hell? “Steven died?” Thea nods. “When?” Fuck, I should’ve read that fucking file.
“Not long ago. According to jail records, Porter saw him only days before it happened. Colon cancer, stage four. That must have triggered a need to look for his family.” She lifts her shoulders and drops them slowly. “You’re the only ones he has left. Unless you don’t see him as family anymore.”
“He’s like a son to us.” She nods and continues listening. “When we found him, I wanted to protect that kid, give him a better life. Make sure he wouldn’t end up like me. But he did.”
My sweet daughter-in-law gives me a hug and a kiss. “As a doctor, I’d recommend that you reconnect with your kid, find out what he needs. Maybe offer him that family support so he can stay on the right track.”
Before I can do that, I have to talk to Gabe. Discuss what he wants and what we are able to offer. The guys came over earlier to say that they support us, but to keep Porter away from them. I’d have to split myself in half in order to accomplish both. Support Porter while making sure he’s far from my family. That’s not really offering him a family, is it? The answer to my next question should come from someone that suffers the same disease that Porter and I do. A person who is always sweet and understanding.
“As my daughter-in-law?”
She looks toward the kitchen door and smiles. “I’ll support you, because I’ve been where he is. Having the Decker bunch behind you is a blessing I wish many could have.”
“Do you think they’ll understand?” I tilt my head as if pointing at the rest of the family.
“I think so. They are as loving as their fathers. But take the first step, Pops. When you have a plan, I’ll be here for you.” She then heads to the freezer and takes out some meat. Thank God she’s going to feed me meat. “Leave the cooking to me, why don’t you head back and have some quality time with Piper. She misses Papa Chris.”
“I can’t believe you ruined my trend, Abuelo sounded better.” She rolls her eyes and her attention is now focused on whatever she’s planning on cooking.
Thea is right. I have to take the first steps. That includes discussing with Gabe what we want to do. That might not happen soon, but perhaps we can look into this in the coming year.
Mackenzie stares at the tree, her head shaking, and tears streaming. Fuck, I really thought that I was helping. Everything I planned ended up being a big fiasco. With my thumb I clear a few of those tears.
“It’s . . . I, you,” she finally speaks. “Why did you do it?”
I shrug, rubbing the back of my head and wondering what I’d do with all the shit I bought if she doesn’t want it. Each item is from the letters that Harper wrote to Santa. One from her and the other one from Finn. I skipped the new house and bringing her father back. If I could, I’d bring him back for her and the entire family. I’d give Mac and the kids everything they wanted just to see them smile. These days, their joy is the fuel powering my life. Yes, every present I bought was a selfish act, because seeing them happy makes me happy.
So I’m honest with her. “Because I could, and I knew that if I did it, they’d be happy. I wanted to see you smile. I fucking love to hear your laughter, watch you shine when your lips stretch into a smile because it’s a good day for them—and for you. I love . . .”
Her eyes shine with the moisture, revealing fear, doubt, but a sliver of more. Love. Maybe I’m not in this alone.
“Porter, I . . .”
“Mac,” I whisper her name, our lips almost touching. “I think I’m in love with you.” She shakes her head. “Yes. I’m pretty sure between you knocking on the wrong door months ago, and everything we’ve lived through.”
Not letting her think any further, I do the only thing I can think of that’ll stop both of us from discussing my confession. Our gaze locks, my breathing becomes labored—heated as I lean down—crashing my lips against hers. As she releases a surprised gasp, her mouth opens, letting my tongue inside. Her hands reach for the back of my head; her fingers entwining through my hair tugging me closer to her. I rest my hands tightly around her back.
Our kiss deepens; fire is traveling through my veins. Our hands release their original hold and begin to glide up and down. Exploring, searching as our bodies fit against each other. I want more; I need more. But suddenly she stops, my arms reaching for her before she vanishes.
“Porter,” she whispers my name between pants. My lips travel over her the hollow of her neck, enjoying the feel of her. Enjoying her scent. “Wait a moment . . . We have to talk.”
I loosen my hold; open my mouth, but my phone rings. Unknown number. Taking the call would be rude, but it’s also an excuse to think about what to say to her before she sets some kind of emotional restraining order after groping her.
“Kendrick,” I answer.
“Porter, it’s Chris.” I hear Chris Decker’s voice on the other side and I shut my eyes. Fuck. He called me. The child in me wants to cry the same way he did when he realized he had lost his mother and siblings, because with the fucking shitty luck I carry, I’ve no doubt that Chris will tell me to go fuck myself. “Are you there, kid?”
I nod, but remain silent because that’s the only way I can hold back the inevitable tears. Fuck, what I would give for a joint, a drink, something to numb every emotion that’s swirling inside my head. The memories are also resurfacing. Everything I swallowed since the first time I started was to forget my actions or my emotions. Evading the consequences of what I did, or how I acted, or the past. Remembering hurts, but among those memories I find my reason to stay afloat.
“Yes, I didn’t think you’d call so soon,” I confess.
“There’s nothing like the present, Porter,” he says with that soft voice of his. “What’s been going on for the past few years?”
“Not much. There was rehab,” I sigh. “Sorry for the cost, I should’ve worked harder—faster?”
“No need to be sorry. I’m glad you worked at your own pace . . . are you still clean?”
“Yes, some days are hard, so fucking hard,” I bite my tongue because sounding weak when I’m trying to show him that I’m okay is stupid.
“I can imagine,” he says. “Sorry about Steven, I just learned he passed away. This must be a hard time for you.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you spending Christmas alone?”
“No, I think I’m going to be at a friends’,” I say, hopeful that Mac won’t reject me after all I said. Or even better yet, she’ll want me.
“I’m glad that you have someone to be with, Porter.” A loud breath comes from the other side of the line. “Okay, kid, we don’t want to assume. Why don’t you tell me why are you looking for us?”
“To apologize, to reconnect, to . . .” I pause, making sure that all my thoughts are in order before I continue. Opening my eyes, I see Mac right in front of me. The compassion in her eyes, along with the spark she had earlier. She comes closer and takes me in her arms. Her hold is tight, as if giving me strength when I need it most. I hold her with one hand, leaning my chin on top of her head. “Recover my family, Chris. My parents. Look, I know I fucked up badly and I can’t expect you to open the doors of your house. But days like today, I’d like knowing I can call you to wish you a Merry Christmas or a happy birthday. Knowing that things with you and Gabe are okay will make it easier for me to continue.”
“A lot of things happened, Porter. I’ll discuss this with Gabe.”
“Please, at least let me apologize in person,” I plead.
“We’ll see. Now I want to congratulate you. I learned that you’re about to finish your degree, we’re proud of you.” There’s an air of satisfaction in those words. That word, proud, makes my entire body zing with joy. “Tell me about your music, do you have anything new?”
“
I compose, but just for me.”
“That’s good to know you didn’t abandon it. You’re talented, Porter. Keep creating the good shit.” He pauses and I hear voices behind him. Loud voices. “Look, I have to hang up. It’s time to play Santa and there are too many Colthurst and Deckers to deliver to.”
“Thank you for calling, Chris, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Porter. I’ll call you early next year.”
And as I hang up the phone, I let myself cry holding onto Mac. Thankful that he called me; that if anything happens to me tonight, I know he doesn’t hate me. Hopeful, that perhaps, they’ll let me be part of their lives. Not like they did before, but anything is better than all these years without them. This hope erases the need to hide myself behind drugs and stay stone cold sober.
“He called you,” she whispers, her head resting on my chest. “I’m so happy for you. It’s like a Christmas miracle.”
“No. You’re my miracle.” I hug her tight.
We hold each other for several minutes and, as she starts to wiggle, I use the little courage the phone call injected to ask, “What did you want to talk about?”
“You, me.”
“What a great opening.” I kiss her forehead. “You and me. The possibilities are endless.”
“Porter, I don’t know how to feel.” She starts, “Confusion is the main emotion every time I think of you—of us. Leo is the only man I’ve been with; the one I swore to love for the rest of my life. It doesn’t . . . I shouldn’t . . .” She closes her eyes.
“I can’t tell you how to feel about him, or me. The only thing I can do is offer you my love and wait for you to find the answer—”
“Mommy,” Harper calls out, just as I was about to take another taste of her lips. “Santa won’t come if you are downstairs.”
“Shit, she’s going to come down,” Mac says, glaring at the stairs, then back at the presents.
“Good night, Mac, go upstairs. I’ll make sure to lock up on my way out.”
Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 13