DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  Atlas has soft and kind eyes, her rosy cheeks moving with each suck of the pink object between her lips. And her brazen gaping at me reminds me of how Emmy never backed down from me or any of the boys.

  She’s absolutely beautiful.

  Atlas suddenly makes a slight grunting noise which makes her brows furrow before she relaxes.

  “Yeah, I know, kid,” I mutter to her, then release a harsh sigh. “I fucked up.”

  More suction on the plastic piece in her mouth as she expectedly ogles me for—I don’t know—more of an apology?

  Another thing that her mother would do.

  “I hope you’re like her,” I add on. “Give all those boys shit. Maybe hand your father an early heart attack.” I flick my eyes to Mills, still talking to Reagan, but his attention is already glued on me before breaking away.

  He knows I’m not going to hurt these kids.

  He’s aware that no matter what Emmy did, I’m screwed. The older I get, the softer I’m becoming.

  That I’m not as extra as I used to be when I had tons of built-up anger and stress from almost a decade ago.

  And how can I fight a woman who isn’t here? Who left her children behind and named one of them after me?

  Every time I hear the other damn kid’s name, I’m going to remember it. I’m going to wonder why the hell she did it in the first place and if she ever loved me. The constant and exhausting questions that will circulate in my brain until I die.

  Atlas moves her tiny hands, and I mindlessly stick my index finger between her little digits, feeling the softest skin I’ve ever felt in my life. She wraps them around me in a small death grip, and I swear to God everything in me stills.

  A calmness begins to wash over me as she regards me some more. A little bundle of Emmy in my arms and it’s the only way I’m going to be able to be with her.

  My heart swells and—I can’t do this.

  I can’t stand to look at Mills. I’ll never forgive Emmy for what she did. It’s too much, and I can’t tell her express everything I want to bitch at her about.

  “I need your help.” I lift my chin to find my newest enemy outside an arms’ length of me.

  A safe spot.

  His good hand shoved into his black slacks—the fucking preppy ass—and he stares at me like I didn’t just shoot him the other day.

  “And you’re going to assist me.”

  I do what Atlas is continuing to do to me right now, and I consider him like he’s a stranger.

  Because he is now.

  I don’t know this man that stands in front of me because the one I thought I was privy to was just one of her close friends. Someone who she had boys' nights with. Pizza, beer, and Netflix. But what do they call that shit…Netflix and chill?

  Code for fucking.

  Yeah, that went way over my head, and I’m the only one on B723 that has made a major deal about this. I guess the cat’s out of the bag with how much and in what capacity I cared about the little blonde.

  “Alexander filed a case to get custody of the kids,” Mills continues. “He wants another DNA, and it’s coming up quick.”

  I blink, waiting for him to tell me why he believes or deserves my assistance. Also, why would I?

  “Are you listening?” He shifts his weight because this is hard. He’s a single dad with two babies instead of one and no partner to help out. If only Emmy were still alive, he would’ve never had to do this.

  Maybe.

  Did he know prior?

  “When were you aware Emmy was pregnant?” Mills scrunches up his face at my change of subject but doesn’t pussy out with dodging it.

  “I was with her when she took the pregnancy test.”

  Even with Atlas in my arms, my hands ball into fists and she’s the only reason why I don’t fuck him up right this second.

  Not only because he screwed Ems but because he says it so damn calmly.

  “Did she tell him?”

  Mills shakes his head. “No.” I scoff. I’m done with this conversation. “She didn’t know they were mine.” He shifts and averts his gaze from mine. “I didn’t know until she was dead. She told Lucien before…she told him to check the paternity.”

  “How many times did you guys fuck?” My stomach recoils at the question, and Atlas squeezes my finger again.

  I’m torn between putting her back in her little bassinet thing while the other half—the one who still wants to be connected to Emmy in some fucked up way—wants to keep her here.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps through a scowl. “I’m not talking about this.”

  “They’re yours, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but—“

  “Then why does he want them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’re not his,” I repeat.

  Mills lifts his shoulders. “He’s a CEO, maybe his family is pressuring him. Maybe he has self-esteem issues. Maybe he has a small dick and has to make it up somewhere. Regardless, I need to make sure nothing happens. That they remain here. With us.”

  I slowly shake my head because this isn’t my problem.

  Now that I’m holding Atlas, I’m teeter-tottering on the idea of still offing Mills. Do I wanna be that guy who kills her only parent off? And then what, where do they go?

  “Have the boys help you,” I assert because I can’t be here for them.

  I’m not a good role model.

  I’m not going to be able to look at their father and not want to throttle him.

  I’ll forever have to deal with being pissed at Emmy and still being in love with their mother.

  I’m not built for this kind of pain where two living human beings that should’ve been mine, aren’t.

  “Cool—“ Mills takes advantage of my lack of movement with his daughter in my arms and erases two steps between us. “—you’re a boy. Help me.”

  “I’m not—“ He practically rushes me. Those GQ features of his hardening on my rugged ones as he seeks to intimidate me with how serious he is about my aiding his cause.

  We both know I’m not.

  “You are,” he grounds out, baring his perfect teeth at me. “You’re going to help me keep my and Emmy’s kids safe. You’re going to make sure that this motherfucker doesn’t try snatching them up. You’re going to use your broody, bored ass who isn’t doing anything but planning my demise and show up every fucking day with a smile on your face because Emmy was family. And she’s gone now. She can’t do it herself.”

  Atlas suddenly squirms in the nook of my arm, but I don’t pay her any attention.

  If I do, I’ll melt and comply.

  If I agree, then I’ll be only torturing myself from here until eternity. I was a complete asshole to Emmy. I can only imagine how I’d be with Atlas when she started dating boys and Alaric just having his name being said around me and how his mother did it for me.

  Yeah, I’m not going to do this.

  Mills steals a glance at his daughter. A small smile creeps up his face. “She likes you already. Good.”

  I glare at him. “I’m not watching your kids. You should’ve thought of that before—”

  “It became yours when you fell in love with Emmy.” He trails his attention back to me.

  And I don’t bother denying it.

  “Still not doing it.”

  “You really wanna do this?” His eyes crinkle. “You think you’re going to be able to keep yourself away from these kids?”

  “Yeah.”

  He bows his head. “Wow, you’re doing a good fucking job already because you’re holding my daughter.”

  My nostrils flare at the constant reminder. I don’t fight much with Mills to where he returns with a comeback. Usually, he just takes it up the ass and ignores Marty and I when we order him around like a kid brother and tell him to go fuck himself.

  But he’s a father now with two precious gifts to protect. And while I’d normally back him, I’ve washed my hands of that.

 
; “You’re still a dead man,” I leer. “There is no forgiveness for you.”

  “Why because you can’t take it?” The hand still being held hostage begins to pull from her grip, but she tightens hers, causing me to return my focus back down to her. “I’d say they were a mistake…but after being with them, I can’t say it. It’s all we got.”

  I steel my spine of things I already know. “I’m still not watching your kids.” Atlas blinks at me, and I swear she’s mocking me.

  “Mills.” Blue’s voice comes from behind me before a bottle is shoved in my chest. “Feed her.”

  The fuck?

  “Four blacked-out SUVs just rolled up at Reagan’s house.” That immediately gains both Mills and my attention.

  Marty’s cabin is tucked in the woods, a football field away from Reagan’s. He gets his mail there, which obviously hints that someone looked for him as well knew we’d be here.

  “Mills,” Marty sneers, marching towards us, his face clouded in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were going to make me Atlas’s godfather? I had to find the shit out from my sister?”

  My face twists because who the hell cares, and Mills flatly ignores him, waiting on Blue to give him more details.

  “Let’s go back to Marty’s house,” she says. “I saw it on the security camera and—“

  “Wait, wait,” Marty chimes, holding out his hand, then pulls out his cell. “You mean the four Suburbans that just joined the party?”

  Mills frowns. “Yeah.”

  “I was going to bring that up after I bitched at you about the Atlas thing. If you keep this shit up, I’m not going to ask you to be Blair’s.”

  “Do I look like I give a fuck?” Mills storms out. “Who the hell is in the trucks?”

  “I don’t know, but I got excited to get my hands on someone for my birthday. Who cares who they are.”

  “Because I got a psychopath after my kids.”

  “No one is going to take them.” The look on Marty’s face is one of absolute serenity, which, in all honesty, is bugging the shit out of me too. “I got this place rigged.”

  “So what you mean to say is that you’re going to blow us all up in the process?” Blue inquires at my side. “Let me grab a drink first.”

  Marty narrows his eyes at the redhead. “There are kids running around here so no, Blue, there aren’t any land mines next to the swing set.”

  “How about we find out who the hell is here?” Mills wraps up. “Fucking A, man. You guys are…annoying.” Marty and Blue begin to chuckle collectively when Marty’s palm slams into the back of Mills’s shoulders.

  “Now you know how we feel, asshole.” He jerks his head. “C’mon, let’s go have some fun.”

  They proceed to follow Marty when Blue scoops Atlas out of my arms and gently places her back in her bassinet.

  “Hey Rea,” Blue calls out to Marty’s sister. “We’re gonna go smoke. Need you on kid duty.” Reagan waves her off in acknowledgment, and Blue nudges me in the ribs. “Now you can really get some built-up aggression out.”

  Once we breach around the woods to get to the side of Reagan’s house—so that we’re not giving away the direction we came in—Mills is already in a guy’s face wearing a suit.

  It doesn’t take a brain scientist to know that it’s Alexander.

  Blue and I close the distance between him and Marty. And the closer I get is when I can make out everything he’s blabbering about—nervously.

  I can’t say that I’ve ever heard Mills break and not be as obnoxiously confident as he always is.

  However, he’s got a lot on the line, and if he fails, it’s something I know he’s not willing and ready to pay.

  “Get it through your entitled fucking head,” he storms. “Those kids aren’t yours. How many more DNA tests do you need? I thought you spoke and read English, bruh.”

  Blue stops short of a few feet from Mills to keep a broader watch on the area, and I—for some fucking reason—stand at Mill’s right.

  Maybe it’s because I’m used to doing it like a bad habit. Or that Mills is currently taking on the man who didn’t deserve Emmy in the first place. The rich and entitled prick that she always claimed she’d never be with.

  “No need to yell, Mr. Mills,” Alexander articulates slowly. “I just need to make sure I’m protected and—“

  “You think a bunch of babies are gonna rob you? Listen—“

  “Enough,” Marty grounds out, raising his arm and gently shoving Mills back between him and me. “You’re going to need to lawyer up. Showing up at my house just really pissed me off.”

  “That isn’t what I came here for,” Alexander alludes, redirecting his attention to Marty. “I was hoping to keep the press and courts out of this. To come up with our own agreement.”

  “There’s not going to be one where those kids are handed off to you,” Marty counters back. “Again, lawyer.”

  “I’m prepared to offer you more than is deserved.” Alexander nods and one of the men steps forward in a black suit, a manila folder in his hand. “I’m willing to pay for the children. Though these DNA results keep coming up as you—“ He returns his attention to Mills. ”—being the father, I think you’re tampering with them.”

  Mills scoffs, not bother with taking what in his hands. “Tampering? You think I wanted to be a father with zero help on purpose?”

  “I think you’re trying to save Emmy’s children from being away from you and your little gang.” He makes a circle with his index finger, including all of us in his sentence.

  “Gang?” Marty repeats. “How about that we take care of our own. You’re butt-hurt, it’s alright, bro.”

  “This has nothing to do with—“

  “Get the fuck out of here before we start acting like a gang,” Marty sneers, inching closer to the man who doesn’t belong here. “We’ll see you in court, dickhead.”

  Alexander dismisses Marty by not even acknowledging him, locking his gaze with Mills. “We both know you’d rather go back to your old life. The money I’m willing to offer…will get you better friends.”

  A mirthless laugh leaves Marty, but Mills and I remain quiet, waiting for this asshole to go so we can figure out what the hell to do.

  So they can figure it out, I’m not doing shit.

  “Think about it,” he surmises. “The twins will have everything they deserve and more.”

  “Why do you want them?” Mills’s voice turns a shade demonic as he scowls at his problem.

  “Because they’re mine...and so was Emmy.”

  My jaw tightens and Alexander takes his out, not wasting time for a response when he and all his little bodyguards pile up in their SUVs and take off.

  Not once did he appear heartbroken that the mother of those kids was gone. It all feels like a gain to save face.

  But something else illuminates off his lean frame that sends a violent chill down my spine.

  He appears guilty as fuck.

  Lucien and Mills say Emmy had birthing complications. That she hemorrhaged and the doctors couldn’t save her after the accident. I never heard or asked for any other painful details.

  Did he cause the car accident? Was he driving?

  In this instance, Emmy would look through security and street light cameras to find the full story. I know nothing about how to do it, and I’m not about to ask Mills because I’d more than likely use the laptop against his skull. Blue is his ally and…Kyson will always be mine.

  Pivoting, I leave the three there and make my way back through the woods to find my best friend. If Alexander has anything to do with Emmy’s death, not only will I make sure he meets the full extent of what I’m capable of but everyone involved within B723.

  This can’t be a coverup. If Mills wasn’t the father, he’d just fucking tell us.

  Marching through the yard, Kyson is holding one of the babies. Reagan and Stormi are across from him as they laugh about something amongst themselves. And as if to sense me, Ky glances ove
r to find me locked in on him.

  He already knows.

  He’s aware of my posture and that I need something. He’s been with me almost my entire life and can read me better than anyone.

  Even Emmy.

  He holds up a finger, excusing himself while Reagan and Stormi pay me zero mind while he rises.

  With the baby still in his hand, I’m having a hard time getting used to this.

  We’re B723 with a bunch of babies now.

  Marty has one, Mills has two, and Kyson and I become what, uncles?

  We’re all getting older, and this is what happens, but all at once? Everything feels like it shifted and turned upside down so quickly.

  “What’s up?” Kyson asks, gently bouncing the baby in his arms. I steal a look, admitting to myself that I can tell the difference between Atlas and Alaric. The baby is wrapped in the same colored blanket but I don’t get a vibe that it’s Atlas.

  “You and I need to do some investigating of our own,” I mutter, watching the bundle in his hands continue to sleep. “Alexander just rolled up on Reagan’s house.”

  “I heard. I only stayed to keep the women occupied, what did he want?”

  “To buy the kids.”

  Kyson rolls his golden eyes. “Fucking asshole.”

  “He doesn’t act like a man who just lost his girlfriend. Did you notice him at the funeral? And what did he and Mills fight about, the kids?”

  “Probably. I could understand him wanting a DNA test, but they all come back as not his. So why keep doing it?”

  “Unless they’re forged.”

  “And why would they be? Mills would’ve given us the heads up.”

  I lift my shoulder. “Would he? He didn’t tell us he was a father until we caught him.”

  Kyson tsks. “Mills doesn’t want to be a dad. He can’t even take care of his damn self.”

  “Regardless, I want to look into that car accident.”

  “Why? Cops said she lost control.”

  “Lost control on what?”

  Kyson remains quiet for a moment before replying, “Honestly, I don’t know if anyone ever told me. I was so upset that it didn’t really matter, the result was still the same.” His eyes latch to mine. “You think Alexander did it?”