by Alexa Martin
Only nine years late.
Fourteen
Two hours.
It took me two hours of identical orders, laughter at the same crappy jokes, and obsession with football and Ninja Warrior to realize that sometimes nature is indeed stronger than nurture.
“No way!” Ace shouts from the back seat, like TK isn’t only a foot away from him. “I can’t believe you like that movie too! Mom hates it.”
“Because it’s terrible, and sitting with the only two people in the world who like it isn’t going to convince me otherwise.”
“Poppy,” TK says beside me, his voice deep and serious. “They brought Kevin into the new millennium. We got to see how he handled himself with modern technology.”
“Home Alone 1 and 2 were perfect on their own. But 3 was pushing it, although at least the kid had a different name. However, 4 was just a disgrace.”
“It’s the best one!” Ace says at the same time TK says, “You’re a sequel snob.”
“It wasn’t—” I close my eyes, inhale through my nose, and throw my hands up in the air, as if summoning the Holy Spirit itself to talk me down. “No. No, I’m not debating the merits of Home Alone 4 with you guys.”
Ace dissolves into a fit of giggles on TK’s black leather seat. I don’t know why their bad taste is so amusing to him.
TK lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “You’re a nut.” Then his hand comes off the steering wheel and he squeezes my thigh before sliding it down to my knee and back to the steering wheel. I don’t know if it’s reflex or if he meant to do it, but I do know my thighs now feel like they’ve been plastered in cement with how tight I’m squeezing them together.
“Yup.” I force out a laugh that sounds more like I have a hair in my throat. “You know me. Nutty Poppy.”
Holy crap.
I did not just say that.
I close my eyes, hoping it will create a chasm in reality and I can go back in time and learn how not to be a socially awkward adult.
When I open them and sneak a peek at TK, his chest is shaking and his lips are pulled in between his teeth to keep his laughter silent.
So I guess the chasm thing didn’t work.
I narrow my eyes at him even though between the dark sky and—what has to be illegal—tint, it’s almost pitch black inside his fancy Range Rover. But I keep my mouth shut since I clearly cannot be trusted when it opens.
He makes a right onto my street and comes to a stop outside my little bungalow.
“Home sweet home,” he announces.
“Can you spend the night?” Ace asks. “We can watch Home Alone!”
“It’s Monday night, bud.” I turn my head and gentle my tone, he’s been on cloud nine all night and I hate to be the bearer of bad news. “He probably has work.”
“I don’t.” TK rushes the words out. “A sleepover and a movie sounds good, but only if it’s okay with your mom.”
“Please, Mom.” Ace sticks out his bottom lip and clasps his hands together. A move that should’ve stopped affecting me when he was four but still manages to sway my decision making.
“It’s fine with me,” I say.
“Yes!” Ace jumps off the seat and high-fives TK.
“But!” I continue on, only louder. “Tomorrow you need to read at least two chapters of your book.”
“Okay, I will,” he says with the biggest smile he’s ever had about reading.
“And . . .” I turn my head to look at the two of them. “No Home Alone 4.”
“Deal,” they both say with wicked smiles on their faces, making me almost positive I’m going to regret this.
* * *
• • •
“HE’S KNOCKED OUT.” TK startles me out of the book I’m reading.
I close it and lean forward on my elbows. “I’m honestly shocked he lasted as long as he did.”
I watch as TK crosses my kitchen. His hair down, swaying with every step, and bare feet padding across my kitchen floor. The ease and confidence he exudes make it so he fits in whatever environment he’s in.
Like he belongs here.
My heart stutters and I shut down that train of thought. TK reappearing in my life has forced me to acknowledge how my feelings for him have never faded. I may have slept with other people, had a few almost-relationships, but now that I’m being honest with myself, I can recognize how I sabotaged every “relationship” I’ve had over the past ten years.
Under the table, I kick out the chair across from me and watch as TK folds his oversize body onto my IKEA furniture. I hold my breath, not sure he—or my poor chair—isn’t about to meet his demise.
The chair creaks and groans under his weight, but thankfully my screw-tightening skills hold up.
“He’s a fantastic kid.” TK leans back in the chair, propping his hands on the table and kicking his long legs to the side. “You’ve done a great job, Sparks.”
I try to school my features to not let him in on just how much his words make me feel. When Maya was around, she’d tell me I was a good mom, but since she’s been gone, I’ve been trucking along, trying my best and hoping I don’t screw Ace up too bad. This parenting shit is so hard and I question every single decision I make. Having TK tell me I’m doing a good job is enough to set my sinuses on fire with unshed tears.
Also, he called me Sparks.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and fiddle with my fingers. “That really means a lot.”
“It’s true.” He grazes his fingers across the back of my hand. Electricity surges up my arms and down my spine, leaving goose bumps in their path. “The way he looks at you. How respectful and polite he is. It’s obvious to anyone around you that you’re a great mom.”
“You have to stop complimenting me or I’m going to cry.” I pull my hands from the table and tuck them between my thighs. “You don’t want me almost passing out again.”
TK laughs even though it was a terrible joke. “You’re right, I wouldn’t want that again.”
We sit at the table, neither of us saying anything, and I’m one hundred percent okay with it. Some people hate silence. I’m not one of them. Bad news can’t be delivered without words. Sometimes quiet is the only way to maintain peace. It’s the noise that brings chaos.
TK doesn’t appreciate the quiet like I do. He fumbles around, tapping his foot and creating a beat on my table with his hands, before sitting up straight in his chair.
“We still need to talk, a lot has happened.”
See?
Chaos.
My stomach lurches and my palms start to sweat. No good has ever come from “we need to talk.” And hearing those words come from TK’s mouth is quite literally the nightmare I’ve had every day since Ace was born.
“About what?” I ask like a freaking idiot. The list of what we need to talk about is so long, we’d have to kill hundreds of trees to get enough paper.
“About what happened when you were pregnant, what happened when he was a baby . . . hell, Poppy. What happened last week!” He takes a deep breath and leans forward, like his words alone didn’t riddle me with anxiety, now he’s added serious body language. “What happens in the future?”
My stomach flips and my back goes straight. Everything in front of me blurs and my fingers start to tingle.
Oh no.
This.
This is what I was afraid of. I cannot . . . no. I will not lose Ace.
“No,” I say.
“No?” His eyebrows scrunch together. “No what?”
“The future,” I repeat his words. “No, you cannot take Ace from me. I won’t let it happen.”
“What the hell, Poppy?” His jaw tightens along with his fists, the veins in his muscular arms becoming more pronounced. “I just told you I think you’re a great mom. You really think I’m that big of an asshole to try and rip
a kid away from his mom?”
Do I?
“You have zero right to get angry right now.” I point a deliberate finger across the table. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know you anymore and the side of yourself you showed me when I told you about Ace didn’t instill a sense of confidence in me.” I don’t want to be a bitch, but I’m also not going to mince my words to protect his fragile feelings. “You’ve spent the last ten years of your life having shit handed to you on a silver platter. You pass out hundreds like they’re Tic Tacs so you don’t have to wait in line. Are you really expecting me to not think you won’t spend thousands on a lawyer for my kid? Seriously?
“All I know is Ace is the only person I have, and if you think for a split second I won’t go to the ends of this earth to keep him with me, you’re out of your mind.” I roll my neck and raise my eyebrows. “Got me . . . Trevor?”
His jaw clenches again, making his beard twitch along with it, something that shouldn’t, but does, turn me on. Which only pisses me off more.
“Don’t call me Trevor.” He narrows his green eyes and leans across the table. “And I have every right to be angry. That’s my kid in there too!” He points toward Ace’s bedroom. “And I missed out on nine years of his life! If anyone here has the right to be mad, it’s me.” His teeth grind together, keeping what was meant to be a yell quiet enough not to wake up Ace.
“Oh yeah? As opposed to me? My family abandoned me when I left that clinic still pregnant. I finished high school a year late and any hopes of college went down the drain.” I stand up so fast I send my chair flying from beneath me. It squeaks against the hardwood, no doubt making marks as angry as I am. “Ace is the one good thing I have in my life. He’s the one thing that makes every sacrifice worth it. If you think you can ride in here with bags of toys and your superstar status and steal him from me, you’re out of your mind.”
TK, across from me, expression blank, takes his time standing. Every movement, every breath he takes, is completely measured. And though I hide it with narrowed eyes and a hand on my hip, it scares the shit out of me.
God, I hope I didn’t just poke a bear.
He steps to the side of his chair and carefully pushes it back to the table. Once it meets his apparent standards, he starts to move. Shoulders tense, feet sure, he makes his way around the table and right into my space.
Stubborn (and quite possibly stupid) as ever, I hold my ground. I don’t waver and I sure as hell do not retreat. I roll my shoulders back and stand tall, hoping my attitude makes my five feet three inches seem more intimidating.
It doesn’t.
I know this because all six feet plus of TK keep coming toward me and don’t stop until his chest damn near brushes my nose and his head is creating a shadow over my head. “Why’d you stop talking, Sparks?” he mumbles into my hair. “You had so much to say a minute ago.”
“Stop calling me Sparks,” I grind out, but don’t look up at him.
“Why?” He puts both hands on my back. “You like it.”
“I do not,” I half lie. I don’t like it, I love it. But I’m mad at him now.
“You do.” He drops his head deeper into the mass of curls covering my head, the end of his beard brushing against my cheek. “Want me to tell you how I know?”
“No.” It’s one word, but I put as much feeling into it as I can without daring to move a millimeter. Not trusting myself when I’m being not only consumed by TK’s presence but actually cocooned by his body.
“Because.” He continues on like I didn’t speak, pulling one hand from my back to take hold of the hair that was hanging over my shoulder.
I clench my eyes shut and dig my fingernails into my palms to try to distract myself from the feeling of TK’s mouth as he drags his lips through my hair until his warm breath pulses against my ear.
“Whenever I call you Sparks, I see your pupils dilate and your nipples harden. I see the goose bumps dot your arms. But most of all . . .” He stops talking but doesn’t let up. No, instead, he traces the line of my ear with his tongue, nipping at my earlobe when he reaches it. “I see the way you squeeze your thighs together, trying to find the relief you’ve been craving since I saw you in the parking lot.”
Could he be more infuriating? The cocky, sexy jerk.
“That’s not true,” I whisper because I have no energy to yell. Because all my extra energy is in use so I don’t come this very moment.
“You’re lying . . . Sparks,” he says.
And with my chest pressed against him, my bare arms hanging at my sides, and his hand resting against my spine, I know he can not only see but feel my reaction to the stupid nickname. His deep laughter beating against my neck confirms it.
“Sparks,” he says once more, like driving me mad is his new favorite pastime.
“Screw you.” I try to pack it with some force, but instead, it sounds like pleading . . . like an offer.
“Soon.” He nips my ear again, drops his hands, and steps back.
The space he creates is just as confusing as everything else between us. Giving me my first opportunity to breathe, I both welcome and resent it.
“But what I was trying to say before you snapped about the future was that I have to report to training camp on Wednesday,” he says, cool as a cucumber. Like the scene that has me shaken to my core—or wet to my drawers—didn’t happen.
I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to follow the conversation. “What?”
“Training camp starts on Wednesday. We check in to the hotel in the morning and can’t leave for two weeks,” he explains, and I try to follow. “I don’t want to go that long without seeing you guys, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Ace in case you weren’t feeling like coming up there.”
“Umm . . . okay.” I nod so he can see I’m listening.
“If you can come, I’ll get you passes and put your names on the list so you can watch camp and I can see Ace after practice.” He shrugs his shoulders, and for the first time since he went alpha-male extreme on me, I can see how nervous he is bringing this up. “I think they have a pretty nice setup for the families. Lots of kids come, Ace should have fun.”
“No, I mean yeah.” I trip over my words like a bumbling fool. “That sounds good.”
“And since it will be a few days before I can see you guys, I was thinking I could watch Ace for you while you work tomorrow night.”
My back goes straight as I aim my gaze at his feet. “Oh . . . work . . . about that . . .” I try—and fail—to keep my wits together. “I sorta don’t work there anymore.”
“You got fired!” he shouts.
My head snaps up and my eyes widen at his outburst. “Ace!” I whisper-shout at him. “Don’t yell.”
“Sorry,” he whispers, even though he doesn’t actually look sorry. “But what the hell happened?”
“Well, actually . . .” I stutter around my words, trying to figure out the best way to deliver the news. “You happened.”
His eyes go wide and color fills his cheeks from beneath his beard. “What?” he grinds out, and I can tell it’s taking everything within him not to shout. “Please explain this to me.”
“Somebody posted pictures of us from the parking lot the other night on some gossipy website. They were grainy and not great, but it’s clearly us and we’re clearly behind the Emerald Cabaret. And unfortunately for me, your friend Rochelle not only knows me but hates me,” I say. TK’s entire body is stiff in front of me and I swear I can feel the anger vibrating off him. “She told Phil I’m the reason you and your teammates stopped coming in, so he fired me for losing clients.”
I know my tone is off, a single mom shouldn’t sound so laid-back about losing her only source of income, but I can’t seem to make myself care. I know I can’t afford to be unemployed for long, but it’s not an emergency yet. Plus, I really couldn’t
work at a nightclub forever.
A career it was not.
“That bitch,” TK whispers. “She fuckin’ played me.”
Since it sounds like a conversation he’s having with himself, I don’t say anything.
“Fuck, Poppy, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t even know who it was when she called the other morning. I never save numbers in my phone. She asked if we could hook up sometime and she’d treat me and some of my teammates to VIP for a night. I just told her I was seeing someone. I never mentioned your name, I swear.”
Did he say he was seeing someone?
“You’re seeing someone?” I ask, not caring at all about anything else he said.
“Um, yeah?” His eyebrows scrunch together. “I mean, I wanted to see where this would go with you before I knew about Ace and I still want to . . . if you do, of course.”
“I mean . . .” I plaster my arms to my sides to avoid pinching myself. “I’m open to it,” I say, pleased with my answer. Way to play it cool, Poppy.
“Good,” he says, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. “And since you’re looking for a job, my friend Brynn owns a restaurant called HERS and I think she’s looking for help. If you’re interested, I can call her and put a good word in.”
“That’s sweet, TK, but I can find a job by myself.” Even though HERS is right down the street and looks like the coolest place ever.
“Who said you couldn’t?” There’s an undercurrent of annoyance lacing his words. “I know you can do everything on your own, but you don’t have to now.”
I like doing things on my own. There’s a comfort in knowing that the only person who can let me down is me. But if I’m going to try to let TK in, really in, I guess this is the best place to start. Plus, I’d really like to work at HERS.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, like somehow I’m agreeing to more than a job referral. “It’d be great if you could call her for me.”