“So you’re over all that?” She interrupts.
I shake my head. “I never dealt with the loss of my first family,” I explain to her. “Not until after the cartel almost killed me and I spent a long time in a rehab facility.”
“Therapy has helped you, then?”
“Yes, for the most part,” I tell her. “After I was kidnapped I had trouble sleeping. Some nights I still wake up sweating, scared that I didn’t make it out of that house. That the cartel found my family and killed all of them. It’s not often, and I work through it the way my last doctor taught me. It’s not easy and it’s not something that just goes away. Opening the door to my place always freaks me out, I fear seeing someone waiting for me.” I shiver remembering what Mason did, so I tell her and she rolls her eyes the same way AJ did when she was annoyed with her brothers. Maybe I shouldn’t use names to keep things separate, but instead of asking, I continue. “One of my therapists did a few hypnotherapy sessions to help me face that fear. AJ . . . I regret how I treated her so much; I’d like to do with her what I did with my foster parents. Apologize for my actions. There’s not much I can fix, but someday I want to apologize to her for the shit I put her through.”
Thea nods, scribbles something, and then looks up to me. “After rehab, what happened to you?”
I tell her about the ranch, how I felt I wasn’t ready to face everyday life at some nine to five job. Instead, during that period, I lived in a farmhouse with other farmhands. After that, I tell her about my decision to move to Oregon. Portland to be exact.
“The compound?” She frowns.
“That’s a thirty-minute drive north of Portland,” I tell her, that’s where I lived with my foster family for four years. She nods. “It was a familiar area, weather, and I felt safe.”
Unfortunately, her clock beeps and she lets out a sigh.
“This hour went too fast and I feel as if we didn’t even touch the surface,” she states. “We couldn’t discuss much about your goals. When do you want to come in again?”
“Whenever you have your next opening,” I tell her, agreeing that it went fast and I feel as if I have to get a lot more out before it’s time for me to talk to AJ. “There’s a lot I want to talk through.”
“Tomorrow, same time?” I nod.
“How are you today, Porter?” Thea greets me, as she calls me from her office. I look her up and down, as she wears a pair of jeans, a flouncy long sleeve shirt and her hair is down. “Right, sorry for the outfit, but we have a zoo to attend in about an hour.” She grabs her notepad and takes a seat on her flowery chair.
“Where were we?” She clicks her pen and stares at me.
Molly. She is the next person I talked about. Thea can’t help but laugh at what I tell her. The flirting is what takes several minutes to explain. Continuing with Mac. “It was this pretty woman with a lost gaze and a beautiful smile that knocked on my door. She’s a widow who moved from Colorado to Oregon. Before she arrived, I used to live in the house next door; it’s a two-bedroom place. But I moved out when she came.”
“Why?”
“As I said, her aunt is a little off and . . .” I trail, trying not to talk distract myself again with Molly and the crazy things that come out of her mouth or the shit she does. “She had decided that Mac should sleep on the couch while the kids slept in the room. I felt as if they needed their own space. They had lost their father and their mother was going through a lot of pain. I felt sorry for the kids. Like me, they had lost a parent. I wanted them to know that they weren’t alone. Life is complicated enough while you’re growing up, but losing everything and moving away from what they’ve known was a lot to deal with. I tried to ignore Mac, stay away from them, because before them, I avoided contact with everyone, but they were impossible to ignore.”
I pull my phone out and show her some pictures of them. Not sure if that’s ethical or part of therapy, but sharing them feels right for me.
“Her name is Harper,” I begin to tell her all about my little Harp. Her favorite color, how I taught her to ride her bike and then continue with Finn. For the next hour, I spend my time talking about the small family I had for a few months, the love I have for them and how I hoped that Mac could love me the way I did her. “I miss them.”
“So why did you leave them?”
“Because we both need to find ourselves, before we can pursue something else. She’s grieving and there’s nothing I can do to help her unless she wants to be helped,” I say. Thea nods. I look at my tatt. “I’ve been there. It took me time to understand that my first love will always mean something to me, but I believe in the possibilities of falling for someone again.”
“You want to tell me about your tatt?” She touches her wrist. “AJ?”
I explain what it means, what I do when I’m lost, and when I finish unloading it sounds like I haven’t moved on. The letters look out of place.
“Maybe I have to find out how to close the chapter.” The words leave me without thinking. “Maybe, at first I was interested in Mac because she was emotionally unavailable. I was trying to hold onto AJ and James so hard I wouldn’t have to open up to anyone again. But I got to know her and now . . .”
“Now?” Thea looks at me, then back at her pad.
“I want to change my life, I don’t want to end up alone like my father,” I admit. “That’s why I moved out of Portland to confront my shit, while she confronts hers. To find myself and find a way to offer her something tangible. Real.”
“As long as you’re willing to walk where you think you should be, you’ll get there.” She closes her pad. “Tell you what, let’s meet next week if that’s okay with you. I have a seven o’clock opening in the morning.”
“I’m meeting with AJ on Monday at eleven,” I tell her.
“Well, that’s great; we’d have talked by then.”
“Thank you.” I rise from my seat and shake her hand.
Mac: So you’re famous? Crazy famous?
Porter: Yes, I was. Not anymore.
Mac: THE DECKERS . . .
Mac: You are related to the Decker twins, to Christian freaking Decker.
Mac: You’re the foster son of Gabe Colt. We’ve been watching his movies and it never occurred to mention he’s your dad?
Porter: Yes to all of the above, but they’re simple people. My family.
Mac: Wow! You’re famous. Really famous. Okay, I’m done fangirling.
Mac: Molly is wondering about the gossip that is swirling around. Is it true?
Porter: Which ones?
Mac: That your foster parents abused you.
Porter: Never. You know the true story; which I hope you keep to yourself.
Mac: Not to worry, I won’t tell anyone. Not even her. She’s inviting friends over to the room you slept in.
Porter: What else is she doing?
Mac: Selling your favorite cookies.
Porter: She never baked me cookies.
Mac: No one has to know the truth.
Porter: Harper and Finn?
Mac: Harper and I are having problems. She thinks you’re going to come back and take her to your new house—with her own room. Can you believe her?
I stare at the screen and erase my answer. Because yes, if Mac allowed it, I’d take them with me.
Porter: Tell her I live in a small apartment. Show her these pictures. Your house is bigger than my place. There’s no backyard for her toys. Here is lonely.
Mac: Are you okay?
Porter: I’m trying to stay above water. Usually, with so many changes I lose my shit, but so far I’m sober. I began therapy again as a way to make sure that I stay clean, and I have my parent’s support.
I stare at the last words. My parents. Chris and Gabe haven’t rolled out a red carpet welcoming me, but they have been understanding. We talk daily over the phone, I continue telling them crap that I hid and stuff that I regret not airing out long ago. Our future is a work in progress, but I’m certain that it’ll be mor
e than just an exchange of holiday greetings.
Mac: That makes me happy. You’ll be fine, you have people that love you and support you.
Porter: It’d be better if you and the kids were here.
I don’t send the last text; instead, I get ready for my interview with Noah, from some radio station. Jacob is going to be with me. We’re sitting down to put every rumor to rest. There’s no feud with the Deckers; they didn’t kick me out. I broke plenty of rules and had to leave. Pria’s team admitted that I was in rehab for about two years. That’s information I wanted to let be known. The rest isn’t important. After the interview, I have another session with Thea and then . . . I have to be at the Academy to see AJ.
Fuck, this is huge. I look at my wrist and her initials are fading after the first laser treatment. The office where they’re removing it said it takes between six to ten sessions for it to disappear. Sounds like a long time, but the three times I’ve explained out loud what it means to me, the less I like what it symbolizes. AJ is my past; she should be a memory. Not the reason why I keep going, why I do the right thing. I am my own reason. Mac, Harper, and Finn are too. My ex shouldn’t take up so much space in my present, if at all. Took me damn long to realize it.
“That was easy,” Jacob says, as he disconnects the phone conversation with Noah. “You seriously won’t play again? Dude, I know you loved the thrill of the stage. If you ever want, there’s Thrice. Matt might let you play at the Silver Moon.”
I shake my head. “Maybe someday, but not now. What else do you have for me?”
He pushes a folder. “The wife found something while going through the system.” I open the folder and it’s a spreadsheet. “Your shit’s been selling for years, but we haven’t paid you the royalties in a long time.” As his finger taps the bottom line, my jaw drops. Almost ten million dollars.
“That’s a crazy amount of money.” I read again the figure.
“You made more than that annually when you were active.” He hands me a pen. “The royalties that’ll hit the bank as your music is starting to play on the radio again will be crazy. Sign the paper accepting the money and it’ll be sent over to the bank account we have on file.”
This is fucking crazy. That’s a lot of money I have no use for right now. Mac’s earlier text reminds me exactly what it could be used for. A big house. We have to talk. I have to make her understand. This shit between us has to work. It has to. After signing the dotted line, I take a picture of it to make sure I remember how much they’re depositing.
“I received the songs, but you didn’t sign the contract.” He pushes yet another piece of paper in front of me. “You did specify that you want your music paid as royalties, which takes a long time, but since you have a nice cushion that shouldn’t be an issue. Writing can be done from anywhere; your contribution to the foundation can be financial only. We’re not kicking you out, but if you ever decide to move back to Oregon with your girl and the kids, that’s cool too.”
I nod, reading the quarterly schedule and opting to donate a percentage to the foundation. Chris and Gabe plan to sit down with me and explain what their foundation does and what I can do to help.
“Any news about Mac and the kids?”
I shake my head. “Thank you for everything, though,” I say, bobbing my head. “For letting me show your parents that I’ve changed.”
“As long as you keep yourself clean, we’re cool.” He extends his hand. “Good luck with everything.”
After I’m done with him, I head to the academy to talk to AJ.
“I’ll be outside.” Mason comes out of the office after I knock on the door. He gives me a glare and exhales. “You know better, don’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah. I know better, Mason.” I clear my throat and step inside her office.
AJ sits behind her desk, surrounded by blue-gray walls covered with musical pentagrams. It’s a song, and as I follow their order, I realize it’s one of the songs Chris wrote for her when she was a baby.
“That’s sweet.” I point at the wall. She shrugs, her eyes smiling as they follow the walls. I’m sure she’s playing each note along with the lyrics as she reads through them. Probably with a guitar riff, as it’s the way Chris would play it for her.
I did that a few times with Harper and Finn. Composed a couple of melodies just for them that I played at night before they headed to bed, or while they were playing in the backyard. Finn loved it; God, he loved anything I played. That kid could sit by me for hours and just mumble along with me. I miss my girls, but I miss him more. He was my little shadow.
“It reminds me how much my parents have always loved me,” she explains, pulling me back from Portland where I left my heart. “It’s fitting too, because he taught me what I know—to love music and live by it. He continues doing so with his grandchildren.”
“How many children do you have?” She lifts a frame. I walk closer and take it from her. It’s a picture of her holding a baby. Mason is hugging her with one arm, and a beautiful girl, who looks just like AJ, is on his lap smiling down at her baby brother. “She’s a cutie, what’s her name?”
“Gracie; our baby boy is Seth.” She takes the frame back. “They’re an amazing handful, but we love them so much.” Kissing each one of her loved ones, she puts the frame back where it belongs.
“How are you, Port?” She sits back, sinking into her chair and looking at me.
“Good. I’m doing well, AJ, and you?”
“Busy with the school, home and my family,” she says, looking at her children again.
“Following your dreams?” She nods. “Having your music school, planning on a big family with five to seven kids?”
“No. That’s it for us, I can’t have any more without risking my health,” she explains. “Maybe we’ll adopt, hire a surrogate, or just be happy with those two. I’m sure my brothers will fill their houses with more. Then again, people change. Life changes and they might not want to have more than they do right now. How about you? Career? Family?”
“If I hadn’t fucked up you’d have James,” I let it out of my chest. I place a hand right over my heart. “I’m so fucking sorry for every single thing I did to you that hurt you and for the things you never found out about. The moment I began using was the moment I began living a double life. You were what kept me grounded, but then I didn’t want to be grounded and my mind just wanted one thing. Drugs. Everything I did had one purpose—feed the need to consume them.”
“You were sick,” she says, I nod agreeing with her.
“That doesn’t make it right,” I tell her. “Nothing that I did was right just because I was sick. It explains the behavior, but I should still be accountable for everything. The way I treated you when you told me about James. Fuck. I wish I could bring him back to you, that you could hold him at least once.”
“It wasn’t you or your reaction towards him that caused me to lose him,” she sniffs, pulling the sleeve of her sweater up to clear her tears. “My body needs a lot of prenatal care before I’m able to get pregnant and carry a baby to term. Yes, your behavior was shitty and fucked up and I hated you for a long time, but one thing had nothing to do with the other.”
“I was a prick and the worst boyfriend,” I accept my faults. “In my head, everything made sense. What happened on the tour stayed there, therefore, I had a hall pass. Once l looked deeper into my behavior, I wanted to punch the hell out of myself. It was a lot of monkey-see, monkey-do.”
“Peer pressure,” she concludes, I nod. “The past doesn’t matter as much as the present and the future. Apply what you learned and find the right way for you. Are you finding that way?”
I nod. “Yes, and thank you for helping me with it. Thank you for being the amazing person you are and opening the doors of your school to begin my journey.
AJ smiles that smile that she shows when she’s about to learn something new. The woman in front of me looks different, but I see so many traces of the girl I met long ago. My frien
d. The person who held my hand and helped me discover who I was.
“What can I do to repay everything that you did for me back then?” I ask instead of sharing Mac with her. “To fix everything I fucked up.”
“You’re making my parents proud, that’s a good start,” she responds. “They love you and they want to see you succeed. Help the foundation, find a way to catch the future Porters and make sure they don’t stray. Find happiness, your own little family. My parents found that grandchildren are the best; give them some more. That’ll make up for a lot, Porter. It’ll prove me right.”
She thoroughly confused me and I cross my arms waiting for her to explain. “That you’re a good person, that you’re smart and a hard worker. That you’re a Decker.”
Oh fuck, that last part makes me cry. Shit, it shouldn’t because I’m supposed to be a man and be strong but being called a Decker is fucking huge. More praise coming from AJ. Because out of anyone in this world, I have hurt her the most and still she’s opening her heart and her family to me, and even if it’s only to exchange holiday greetings, I can die tomorrow in peace. But I hope not, because there’s a little family I’m in love with and want to spend the rest of my life with.
“Stop crying because you’re going to make me cry, Port,” her raspy voice claims, and when I look at her she’s already crying. Fuck. “Why don’t you tell me about the girl, is she nice?”
We spend some of the time discussing Mac, but I don’t go in too deep. Instead, I start talking about the school and her plans for me. Of course, I can only change the conversation for so long before Mac comes back to take the front seat. Once I’m finished, AJ is frowning.
“Bring him. Bring Finn in,” she says. “We can help him here.”
“You know what he has?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I have people to diagnose him and therapists to help him. Maybe it’s only the trauma of losing his father, but it can be something else. Early intervention is what will help him. You’ve done great, Porter” she praises me and smiles. “Bringing him back with music was an excellent idea.” She pulls out her phone, taps it and Mason enters the room.
Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 18