by Remi Rose
“Having the same blood doesn’t make you a father.” He says coolly. “Being there when I needed you the most makes you a father.”
He rushed towards the door in hopes of catching Becca but I know she’s already gone.
And so is the hopeful feeling in my heart that one day my son and I would finally have a relationship.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Becca
Two days passed since mine and Wes’s kiss and I still felt the tingling sensation across my lips. Every now and then, I’d brush my fingertips over the top of them, trying to remember the feeling of him, but I never could get it just right.
I went to bed that night and closed my eyes, hoping to replay the kiss in my head. I wanted to savor the memory, the way his lips brushed against mine softly, like butterfly wings, and the way he caressed the back of my neck as he tasted my mouth. It was a dream worthy kiss that any girl would swoon over for days, but I guess I wasn’t like the other girls.
Mr. Fitz entered my fantasy, wreaking havoc on my memory. His dreary eyes clashed with mine, and a hurricane of emotions flooded my system.
Wes was gone, the air in the room shifted and Mr. Fitz’s frame loomed over me.
“Where’s Wes?” My voice cracks as I peer around the living room for any sign of him. It was like he disappeared out of thin air.
“Gone.” His hungry eyes trace down my body causing me to pull the blanket further up my chest.
“He was just here?” I snap angrily, glaring hard into Mr. Fitz. Dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, his hair was hanging down, falling in waves over his shoulders.
“Well, now he’s gone.” He grips onto the back of the couch, leaning the upper half of his body down towards me. My body instantly recoils away from him, surprised by his boldness. “Don’t tell me you're scared of me now?” He arches a brow.
Taken aback, I shake my head. “The devil doesn’t scare me.” I admit, zoning in on his lips.
His mouth lifts in amusement. “Am I the devil?” He cocks his head to the side, revealing a set of sparkling white teeth. “Because if I am, I’m sure you could have come up with something better than that.”
Confused, I watched closely as he dropped his head lower, so we were now at eye level. “What’s worse than the devil?” I ask in a low mumble.
The dark specks in his eyes seemed to morph into something devious, a dingy color of black that made him appear unhuman. My heart began to race, and my mind began to swirl with questions.
“I am.” He growls.
His hand drops from the couch and I watch in fascination as he reaches out for me. It almost appears like he wants to grab the blanket that's over my chest, but the minute I feel his cold fingers brush against my neck, all the air leaves my body.
Speechless, I sit there frozen in place, while his whole hand wraps around my neck. My eyes bulge out as I wait for him to squeeze, to take my very last breath, but the moment never comes. His breathing shallows out and his lust filled eyes greedily take in my vulnerable state.
I don’t tell him to stop.
I don’t push him away in disgust.
I wait patiently for his next move.
I could sense he had dark desires that he stowed away inside of him, and right now, they were ready to come out and play.
My heavy breathing matched his, and he seemed to notice the sudden intrigue in my eyes. “Keep lookin’ at me like that O’Connor and I might never let you go.”
My heart jumped at his words, because at that moment, I didn’t want him to let me go. He was finally beginning to see me, and I was finally seeing the real him.
Dropping my gaze to his lips, I start to wonder if he tastes differently than Wes. If he’d move his lips in the same way or if it would be an entirely different sensation. But I had a feeling he’d be nothing like Wes.
My tongue darts out, wetting my dry mouth and Mr. Fitz…. Jack catches the movement.
“What did I tell you?” He pulled me back hard and my back was now flush with the couch, while my head was caged in with his hand still wrapped around my neck.
His eyes peered down at me while I stared up, eager for his lips. My back began to arch off the couch but Mr. Fitz held me in place. A snarl ripped through his chest as I tried to wiggle out of his hold, and he quickly moved his other hand onto the back of my head, tugging hard onto my hair.
“You wanna know the real me?” He mocks inches away from my face. “Here I am, angel.” He jerks on my hair causing a moan to slip from my lips.
The ache between my legs was throbbing, desperate for his touch. His roughness was intoxicating, and I wanted more.
“Becca?”
Hearing Wes’s voice was like dumping a bucket of ice over my body. My heart dropped because I knew there was no turning back on what he just saw.
Mr. Fitz, my teacher, his father, was ready and willing to kiss me...or worse.
“Wes.” I cry out, but no one is there. Mr. Fitz is gone and I’m alone in an empty room. “Wes!” I scream with tears rushing down my face, but no one seems to hear me.
******
I woke up from the dream sweating, my shirt was soaked and my heart was racing like a stallion. Reaching for my neck, I swear I could still feel Mr. Fitz’s hold. But it was just a dream… or in this case, a nightmare.
After getting ready this morning, I received about a hundred missed texts from Wes apologizing and asking if I was okay. I drove straight home last night, shut off my phone and swore that whatever was going on with Mr. Fitz and I was ending now. This strange obsession of mine with him was messing with my head, and after his painful words, I knew all he’d ever be was my asshole teacher.
Rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen, I quickly grab a water from the fridge and turn to find Aunt Claire sitting at the kitchen table. “Going to visit your dad?” She peers up from her coffee mug.
“Yah, I was planning on it before work.” I twist the cap off the water and take a drink.
She nods her head. “So, how was your night with Wes?” She changes the subject and by her curious smile, I can tell she’s hopeful that it went well.
“It was good.” I lie, as the events from last night replay in my head like a broken record.
“Just good?” She raises a brow.
“Yeah.” I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Nothing exciting.”
Her mouth drops into a modest frown, but quickly lifts her lips. “Well, hopefully one day you two will realize you’re perfect for one another.”
Were we perfect for each other though?
I wanted to believe it, but there were too many uncertainties that I couldn’t deny.
“Maybe.” I answer simply, not agreeing with or denying her statement.
******
Maybe it was me, but the stench seemed to be getting worse and worse the more I came to visit my dad. The putrid smell made my stomach churn and the only thing to block the smell was to plug my nose. With one hand resting in my lap and the other holding my nostrils, I peered through the glass at my father.
“Come on Becs, it doesn’t smell that bad in here.” He jokes, clearly finding amusement in my distress.
“Yah, maybe for you since you smell it every day.” My voice squeaks through the phone. “It smells like death in here.”
His bald head drops in laughter. “This is prison sweetheart, death is everywhere.” He admits as his words send a shiver down my spine. “We ain't got no candles, flowers or that smell good shit you spray from a can….Prison ain’t supposed to smell like bath and body works.”
It was kind of sad hearing that, because for almost eleven years, he’s been living, breathing and smelling that horrendous scent.
“Don’t feel bad for me.” His tone turns serious. “No tears, only smiles.” He grins.
“Never tears.” I smile back, noticing the new tattoo that's wrapped around his finger. A roaring lion, that still looks fresh on his skin.
“Atta girl.” He winks but then
suddenly his face drops like he remembered something. “So, what's this I hear about you and a boy?”
My eyes widened, shocked, almost disoriented by his question.
Who told him about Wes? Was it Aunt Claire?
“Is he your boyfriend?” He arched a curious brow.
“No.” I shake my head a little too quickly. “We’re just friends.” I tell him the truth, but he doesn’t seem convinced.
“Is he good to you?” He eyes me hard, making me uneasy. The subject of boys has never been brought up between the both of us. It felt taboo, and the embarrassment I felt crept up into my cheeks and caused my eyes to avert from his.
“Yes, of course. But he’s just a friend.” I repeat gazing down into my lap.
“Does he know that?”
My eyes lifted, caught off guard by his question. What could he mean by that?
“Dad, please…” I roll my eyes annoyed, and frankly mortified by this conversation. The last person on earth I want to talk about boys with is my dad.
“I know.” He chuckles, leaning back in his chair while scratching the back of his head. “You're my daughter, I worry about that kind of shit.” He shrugs.
“You don’t need to.” I reassure. “Boys are the last thing on my mind right now.”
The lie burned my tongue, because my world seemed to revolve around two men. Two men who happened to be father and son.
“Good, you’re young and don’t need to worry about boys anyway.” He seems relieved by my answer.
The old me, before I met the Fitzgerald’s, would agree with him. But now, everything has changed. My heart skipped a beat for two men, but I wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet. While I knew Wes felt something, Jack was still a mystery.
A mystery I wanted to solve, even if he ended up destroying me in the end.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Becca
After the visit with my dad, I made the dreadful drive to work. I haven’t spoken to Wes since our kiss, and right now, my heart was on the brink of exploding from nerves. Ignoring his calls and texts was beginning to feel like a bad idea as I pulled into the parking lot. I knew he was probably pissed and even upset, but I had no idea what to say to him after last night. What if he ended up regretting our kiss? Our friendship would never be the same after that, and the thought terrified me.
Staring blankly at the digital clock on my dashboard, I waited till the very last minute before stepping out of the car and walking into Cool Times. With sweaty palms, I opened the door.
I noticed Wes standing behind the counter, staring down at his phone when he peered up and locked eyes with me.
“Jesus Becca, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.” He sets his phone down before jumping his body over the counter to stop in front of me. Worry spread across his features and I couldn’t help but feel at fault. His hair appeared a little messier than normal, and his eyes carried bags underneath them.
“I know.” I nod, dropping my stare to the floor.
“You know?” He scoffs. “Why are you ignoring me?” The hurt is evident in his voice, but I couldn’t find myself to lift my head.
“I don’t know. I just...”
“Was it my dad?” His rough tone causes me to jump. “The kiss?”
Exhaling, I bite down on my lower lip, trying to formulate in my head on what to say to him. This whole situation was a mess, a complete clusterfuck, and every bit of it was my fault.
“God dammit, Becca, just talk to me.” His voice softens and I feel his hand brush against mine, trying to soothe me. I let his fingers slip through mine and I felt as though I could breathe again.
“I just needed space is all.” I admit, finally bringing myself to lift my head. His aqua eyes traced over my face, lingering over my mouth like he wanted another taste.
“I’m sorry about him. My dad.” He drops my hand and combs his fingers through his sandy mane. “I don’t know what his deal was last night…”
I did. I knew it the minute his hateful stare connected with mine.
“It’s fine.” I reassure.
“With everything that happened last night, I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. Let’s just start over.”
Was he saying what I think he was trying to say? Did he regret our kiss?
His words hurt more than I thought they would. The sinking feeling in my chest felt as though I had cement blocks tied to my feet and I was drowning with no way out. My breathing slowed as I briskly started walking past him.
“Becca.” He calls out, stopping me before I could get any further. “I know what you're thinking, and it’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?” Instead of brushing it off, I turn to face him head on. He notices the pain in my voice and tries reaching for my hand again, but I instantly recoil.
“I like you.” He admits and my heart starts fluttering back to life. “I just… last night wasn’t how I wanted our first kiss to go. I imagined it differently.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I can’t help but smile at his bashfulness.
“It wasn’t that bad.” I chuckle. “I’ve definitely had worse first kisses.”
As his face lifts, grinning ear to ear, I’m found struck by his beauty. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he chose me. I wasn’t anything special, if anything, I was the girl he should avoid. But I was selfish for his friendship, and for anything he was willing to give me.
“As much as I’d love to hear about the guys you kissed...” He jokes. “Something funky is going on with the freezer and I really don’t want to call Jerry.”
******
As the day went on, everything seemingly went back to normal. Wes continued to be his playful charming self, while I struggled with forgetting last night's affairs. specifically the unwanted dream of Mr. Fitz. No matter where I went, or what I was doing, he always seemed to pop up and ruin everything.
He was a nuisance in my head, but the minute I was in his presence, it was like a switch went off. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him, even if he ended up despising me even more because of it.
Mr. Fitz was the worst kind of obsession, and sadly, I couldn’t get enough.
“We’re good right?” Wes asks, interrupting my thoughts as we began our closing procedures.
“Huh?” I focus back on mopping the floors, when suddenly I notice this whole time the mop rag wasn’t even wet.
Dropping the mop in the bucket, I glance up at Wes who’s wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. His movement causes his shirt to rise up and reveal his tanned stomach, and all I can do is drool over the sight.
“You're not gonna leave here and ignore me again right?” He asks with a straight face. “I was about to sneak in your house last night when you weren’t responding to my texts.”
It was an intriguing idea that I wasn’t opposed to at all. Wes sneaking into my house, my room, my bed….
“No, I won't ignore you.” I laugh, even though the idea of doing it on purpose just to see what he would do was in the back of my mind.
“Good.” He grins and goes back to cleaning.
My hand starts to burn as I’m only halfway done mopping the lobby. Since it rained today, the floors were extra muddy and gross, so I had to use extra force with the mop. As I drag it under a table, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a flash of blonde hair from outside as someone passes the building. My eyes automatically lift and I swear all the oxygen flies out of my body.
Mom?
The person moved past the window and out of my line of vision, and suddenly I felt the mop handle slip through my fingers and smack the floor.
“Becca, you okay?” I hear Wes’s faint voice ask in the background, but my thoughts were too jumbled to respond. I felt my heavy feet move towards the door before I could even process what I was doing.
“I'll be right back.” I shout to Wes, and find myself chasing after the woman. Her short figure was in front of me, stumbling over her feet as she t
ried to walk down the sidewalk.
“Mom?” I shouted, but she didn’t turn around. “Mom!” I yell again.
Frustrated, I called out her first name.
“Missy!”
Then suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and spun around to face me. Even from this far away, it wasn’t hard to figure out it was her. My heart picked up speed as we both stared at each other in shock. As a young girl, I thought I'd never see my mother again.
Rubbing my eyes, I blink a couple of times to make sure she was actually there and not just a figment of my imagination. When I realized I wasn’t just seeing her, I ran as fast as I could towards her.
“Becca? Is that you?” She calls out, her voice sounding raspier than I remembered.
“It’s me.” I breathe out as I stop directly in front of her. She looked different, worse than I remembered. Her once shiny hair looked dull and snarly as it hung to one side over her shoulder. Her sunken in features made her appear ghostly as she took me in with her bloodshot eyes. It tore at my heartstrings to see her like this, like she’s been wandering the streets for years. “Where, where have you been?” I ask as my voice cracks.
Her eyes soften as she looks me over and fresh tears begin to fall from her face. “Oh, Becca! You’re so beautiful, so big now. All grown up.”
Her skeleton-like fingers reach out for my face, but I quickly grab them and entwine our fingers. “Mom, please.” I beg. “Where have you been?”
She drops her head. “I.. I found a job. But then I lost it. And I need more money…. Do you have any?”
“Come with me, I’ll help you.” I try to pull her back to Cool Times, but she shakes her head in refusal.
“I can’t.” She peers around her like she’s looking for someone. “This is where I belong now.”
The hopeful feeling in my chest begins to fade and I feel my anger begin to take over. “You belong home. With me. Your daughter.” I force out, holding back seven years of tears. “We can help you. Find you a job, a fresh new start.”
“Shane, where is he?” She asks as her eyes begin to gloss over.