by Erin Rylie
Slamming her palm into the door, she shouted indignantly, “Hey, assholes! What the hell? I thought we were going to talk about all of this? Come up with a plan?”
She recognized the deep voice behind her instantly, her body reacting as though he’d whispered the words in her ear. Warm shivers worked their way up her spine, and she felt her stomach drop. Apparently her body hadn’t gotten the memo about Reese being enemy number one right now. Well, technically her mother was enemy number one, with her father coming in close second.
Reese is enemy number three, you traitorous body! Catch up.
“I think they want you to talk this through with me.”
“Yeah, well, they’re fucking idiots. You’re the third to last person I want to talk to right now.”
A husky chuckle forced the shivers to intensify. Good Lord, that voice.
“Lock it up, Becky,” she said quietly to herself.
“Look, Becs—”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that. My name is Becky.” She finally turned around to face her foe and was taken aback all over again when she saw how good he looked. He’d aged well. It was annoying as hell. And now my thoughts are rhyming. UGH, get it together, Becky.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. We need to talk about this, Rebecca.”
She cringed at the use of her full name—a name that Reese knew she hated to hear. Her mother had always wielded it like a weapon, and now apparently he did too.
“Oh do we? Like we talked about things when you left? Oh, wait! No, you just left while I was at work. You didn’t even leave a fucking note.”
“There is more to that story than you know.”
“Save it. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m not ready to talk to you about it.”
Reese ran his hands through his hair in frustration, his fingers dislodging the elastic holding his man bun in place. His hair fell around his shoulders, thick and glorious. She’d always loved his hair longer, had loved the way it felt running through her fingers as they—NO.
“I have a right to be part of his life.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her, bursting past her lips. “You have a right? You were there for the conception, but you sure as shit weren’t there when I carried him for nine months. You weren’t there when he was taken away from me. You weren’t there when I fought for him with everything I had.”
Her voice had risen with every sentence she’d spoken so that by the time she was finished she was yelling.
“I DIDN’T KNOW, REBECCA! Fuck, I didn’t know!”
“Yeah, well that’s your own fault. You chose not to stick around.”
Reese growled, his frustration plain on his ruggedly handsome face. “He is my child. His DNA is half mine. You don’t get a say in this!”
“If it weren’t for me, he would still be in foster care. So fuck you, Reese. Seriously, go to hell. Actually, you know what? Go back to Dallas. All of the people who don’t belong in my life anymore live there—you should join them.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Becky was done. She was going to get Ryker and get the fuck out of here. How had her friends thought it was okay to stick them in a room together? Who the hell’s side were they on? She was the wronged party here. She banged on the door with her fist and kicked it for good measure.
“I know you assholes are listening on the other side of that door. Let me out right now.”
There was a brief pause before she heard the murmur of voices, indicating her “friends” were trying to decide what to do.
“I’m serious, let me the fuck out of this room.”
“Becs—”
“I told you not to call me that! Let me out, NOW!” She punctuated her exclamation with another bang on the door with her fist. When the door opened in front of her, she rushed out, pushing past the people in the hall without another word. Before she entered the living room, she took a calming breath.
Softening her tone, she went to Ryker on the couch. “It’s time to go home, sweetie.”
Her son didn’t reply immediately so she touched him lightly on the shoulder, causing him to flinch. His reaction hurt her, but she did her best to remember that touch was often uncomfortable for people with Asperger’s. It wasn’t her he was reacting to, it was that the sensation caused discomfort for him.
“Ryker,” she repeated. “Come on, honey, let’s go home. We can finish the movie at our house, okay?”
He stood and turned off the television without saying a word and, avoiding eye contact, made his way to the front door. Walking to the entryway of the house, Becky passed Reese, who had been standing at the entrance to the living room watching the interaction with a confused look on his face. She guessed he was wondering why Ryker had flinched when she’d touched him. Well, he didn’t need to know. Now was not the time to introduce Ryker to a new person, particularly not someone that she wasn’t positive was capable of sticking around.
When Ryker opened the door and walked toward her car, Reese grabbed her wrist lightly. She knew that she could break his grip if she wanted to. He of all people knew how adverse she was to forceful touches after her childhood.
“We need to talk, Becky.”
She pulled out of his hold and spoke over her shoulder without turning around. “Not yet. I’m not ready, and neither is Ryker.”
Thankfully, Reese didn’t try to follow her again, and she escaped the house without further incident.
Chapter Three
Reese stood frozen in the entryway to Carlos’s house. His entire world had been rocked—his foundation demolished. I’m a father. That was my son. How did he even begin to process this information? He felt like his feet were glued to the floor. With Becky here he’d been able to verbalize some of his frustration, but the majority of his words had remained trapped in his throat. He had never been an amazing conversationalist and had always held a little bit of himself back. The only person who’d ever gotten him to vocalize his true thoughts had been Becky.
When he’d moved to Houston, he’d played with the idea of looking her up and trying to approach her. She’d been his first love, the woman he’d never been able to forget. How did you forget someone when you had no sense of closure? He’d been forced to cut her out of his life and had never had the chance to explain why.
Reese couldn’t really blame her for being mad at him, but to keep his son from him? That just seemed cruel. Who hid a child from their father? It’s not like he had been some abusive shithead. They’d been in love—she should know that he would want to be around for Ryker.
The most pressing question in his mind, however, was why Becky had needed to fight for custody of Ryker. Why had their son been in foster care to begin with? It felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces.
He flinched when she touched him, too. Why did he flinch?
His thoughts and emotions were a twisted tangle and his head hurt from trying to straighten them out. He needed to plan his next steps, but his mind was just playing one thought over and over again in a loop.
I’m a father. I have a child—a son.
A hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, startling him. He was almost always aware of his surroundings, something that just came with being a cop for years. He hadn’t heard Carlos sneak up on him though, which showed how shaken he was.
“I sure know how to throw one hell of a party, huh?”
Reese simply glared at Carlos, looking from his partner’s face to the hand on his shoulder. Carlos took the hint and removed his hand slowly, as though scared Reese would attack him if any quick movements were made.
“Woah, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t pop your kid out and hide it from you for nine years. I mean, you’re an attractive enough man, but I’m not interested in you that way.”
“Carlos, for the love of all that is holy, shut up,” Rafe said, entering the hallway from the living room. “So, how are you doing, man? Interesting day.”<
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“Oh, I’m just dandy,” Reese replied, laying on the sarcasm thickly.
“You know what always cheers me up?” Carlos jumped in, taking an elbow to the gut from Rafe. “Stop injuring me! That is assault, Detective Pencil Dick! Besides, I wasn’t going to say anything fucked up. That new song ‘Sucker’ by the Jonas Brothers always cheers me up. James and I have dance parties to it.”
Reese shook his head; despite everything, he was doing his best to stifle laughter. This dude was ridiculous. “How are you in a relationship? Honestly, what kind of grown man likes the Jonas Brothers?”
Carlos scoffed, “If you say you don’t like that song then you’re lying. It’s catchy as fuck. And I’m in a relationship because I’m fucking amazing in the sack, obviously.”
Kelsey, apparently listening to their conversation from the living room, yelled, “He’s not wrong—his skills are pretty much the only reason we’re together.”
Carlos rolled his eyes and whispered, “She loves me. She won’t admit it, but she joins our dance parties all the time.”
Thankfully, Rafe chose that moment to finally jump in. “None of what you’re saying is helpful, Carlos. Reese just had a huge bomb dropped on him. We should be good friends and talk it out.”
“You can talk and dance at the same time.”
“You know, I think I just need to go home and process this alone. I don’t even know what to think or do right now. Becky told me I can’t spend time with Ryker, and I have to find a way to change her mind.”
Instead of pretending not to listen to their conversation, Kelsey and Sophie moved into the hallway to join. For some reason, they looked like they were pissed at Reese. Not as mad as Becky, but they were definitely giving him the mean mug. The two women looked at each other for a moment and then nodded, clearly having a silent conversation that he wasn’t privy to.
Apparently Kelsey had been appointed spokesperson of the tribe, because she stepped forward and poked Reese in the chest. “Look, we aren’t fans of yours. We didn’t know Becky when the two of you were together, but we know enough. I think she needs to talk things out with you, but I also don’t think she owes you anything. You left her, you made your bed.”
Reese threw back his head and laughed cruelly. The hits just wouldn’t stop coming today, apparently. “You don’t know shit. I get that you’re Becky’s friends and you have no reason to believe a word I say, but if you know anything about her parents, you should know that things aren’t that fucking simple. I loved her. She chose not to tell me she was pregnant. So you need to get off your high horse and realize that there are two sides to every story. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not the bad guy in this scenario.”
Deciding that he was done with this place and this shit day, he turned and left the house. He needed a drink and some alone time to process everything that had happened today.
Hours sitting at home staring at the television didn’t help clear Reese’s mind in the least bit. No matter how hard he tried to process the day’s events, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around everything. He was frustrated as hell knowing that he was missing part of the story, and the urge to look up Becky’s address in the database at work and storm to her house was strong. Unfortunately, doing so was heavily frowned upon (read: illegal), and Reese wasn’t about to risk his job.
Instead, he spent a sleepless night staring at the ceiling in his bedroom, trying to formulate some sort of plan. As a result, he was fucking exhausted when he pulled into the precinct’s parking lot on Monday morning. He and Carlos had enjoyed a rare weekend off, but Reese was glad to be back. Even as tired as he was, he looked forward to a hard day of work. He loved the constant challenges of his job. Each day was full of new activities, something he’d always loved.
He liked to think it was an attitude he’d gotten from his father. So many cops got tired of being patrol officers for years—burning out and claiming that each day was the same. “Same shit, different day,” was a saying uttered by many a police officer. Reese had never and would never think that way. He remembered his dad getting home at the end of a long workday with a huge smile on his face. He’d talk to Reese and his mother about the people he’d helped that day, the difference he had made.
Sure, there were plenty of calls that were false alarms or were pointless, and he hated the situations in which he couldn’t help someone. For example, Houston was notorious for car break-ins and nine times out of ten, he couldn’t do anything but get a police report put together for the victim’s insurance company. In Reese’s opinion, all of those boring calls, all of the pain-in-the-ass paperwork was worth it when he could return a lost child to a parent, or help catch a criminal. He was making a city he was growing to love a safer place, and that mattered to him.
He was quiet as he got changed into his uniform, something that the other men in the locker room were used to by this point. He was a man of few words, always had been. When he was younger, a lot of people had assumed he was stupid. He was a big dude and he was quiet most of the time, keeping his opinions to himself. Of course, some people couldn’t understand people who were different, so they’d assumed that there was something wrong with him simply because he wasn’t an overly social person.
He’d never quite understood why he’d approached Becky that day in school, but there was no denying that he’d felt a sort of kinship with her right away. She’d been sitting alone in the cafeteria, looking all prim and proper with her little salad. He’d seen the way the other kids had looked at her, as though she was some unapproachable person they’d wanted nothing to do with, and had immediately been drawn in.
It wasn’t until he had sat down at his desk that he realized his thoughts had drifted straight back to Becky. He’d spent years trying to scrub thoughts of her from his mind. He’d dated other women, worked out daily, and thrown himself into work in an effort to completely forget her. He’d been relatively successful until he’d moved to Houston. Ten months in this damn place and he was right back where he’d been ten years ago.
A small, selfish part of him raged at the distraction she offered. Not only did he have to try to ignore the feelings he knew he’d always have for her, he had to find a way to come to terms with the fact that he had a son. All of this in addition to the shit he had happening with his mom was just too much for him to handle.
He was saved from dark thoughts by the sight of a plastic cup filled with what could only be described as multicolored slush hitting his desk. Studying the cup, he noticed the logo of a popular coffee shop and looked up at his partner with a raised eyebrow.
“The fuck is that?”
“Well I saw the look on your face last night when you left my house and figured it was safe to assume you wouldn’t be getting any sleep. So I brought you a drink.”
“Coffee is always appreciated, but what the fuck is this shit?”
Carlos took a long sip from his own cup, the straw making that annoying rattling sound that comes with finishing a beverage. He watched as a grown man then proceeded to take the lid off his cup, toss it in the trash, and scoop the whipped cream out of his cup with a finger. He popped his finger in his mouth, sucked the whipped cream off, making a popping sound with his lips before throwing his cup into the trash as well.
“It’s a unicorn Frappuccino. What rock are you living under?”
“This looks like a drink for an eight-year-old girl.”
“Wow, man. That’s sexist as fuck. People of all ages and sexes love unicorn fraps.”
“I’m not drinking that.”
Carlos looked as if he’d just been told that Santa wasn’t real for the first time and clutched his chest like an old southern lady clutching pearls. “I went out of my way to get that delicious beverage for you. I’m trying to be a thoughtful friend, and you just throw my nice gesture in my face?”
Reese shrugged. That cup could be filled with enough sugar to wipe his exhaustion completely from his mind, and he still wouldn’t be caught dead drinking it. He
wondered how many calories the damn thing contained. He loved sweets as much as the next guy, but he didn’t want to spend an extra thirty minutes at the gym tonight to burn off the fat content of one cup.
“Oh, sweet! Unicorn Frappuccino for me?” Rafe swooped in and snatched the cup from Reese’s desk, immediately sipping from it.
Carlos pointed at his best friend in triumph. “You see? That is what friendship looks like. You should take lessons from my Rafey-poo here. A real friend drinks offered Starbucks, no matter what form it comes in.”
Rafe, now over halfway done with his drink, looked between Reese and Carlos. “Wait, was this not for me?”
“Well it was Reese’s, but he’s apparently too good for my friendship.”
Reese resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Carlos was ridiculous, but he was also one of the best partners he’d had as a patrol officer. If he alienated the guy now, he might have to start with someone new, and that wasn’t an ideal situation. Additionally, Carlos was Reese’s only real access to Becky, and, as a result, his son.
“I’m just, uh, watching my caloric intake. Trying to lose a few pounds.” He leaned back in his chair and patted his flat stomach. In reality, he practically had an eight-pack and was in the best physical shape of his life. Carlos didn’t need to know that though. “I really appreciate the gesture though. It looked…delicious.”
Carlos nodded sagely. “Yeah, I noticed you’ve been looking a little thicker around the waist recently. Good call, bro. Good call.”
Oh, I’m going to punch this motherfucker.
Rafe must’ve sensed the tension because he changed the subject quickly. “So, any word from Becky?”
“You mean in the eighteen or so hours since she basically handed me my balls and told me to fuck off? No.”
Rafe sighed. “I have no fucking clue how to help you out right now. This is some convoluted shit.”
“Well, you could give me Becky’s address.”