by Tara Brown
“They went in there.” He pointed at the door leading to another hallway. I let go of Jordan and shoved through, running down the hall until I passed a door with my family inside.
Everyone was standing around him, everyone but Monty and Jordan, who, thankfully, respected this intimate family moment enough to stay put.
Martin offered a slight wave, looking pale and sickly for the first time since his diagnosis.
I ran to him, nuzzling my face in his stomach and hugging tightly while he rubbed my head. There was no way I was going near the large white bandage on his throat or the tubes coming from his hands or the IV machine.
“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor reassured my mother. “We got it really early. There wasn’t much of a mass, and I’m confident with a single dose of the radioactive iodine, he’ll be back to his old self. We’ll talk about that dose later, after he heals. About five weeks from now. We were able to leave some of the thyroid gland behind, so he won’t need hormones. He’ll be able to go home tomorrow. You can all relax now. He won’t be feeling any pain, and he’s completely out of the woods.”
“Thank you so much.” Mom hugged the doctor, making him instantly uncomfortable. Dad joined in. It was sweet, unless you looked at the doctor’s face.
“Yes, he’s out and he’s fine,” Grandma said into the phone, no doubt talking to an aunt or uncle. Our family was all waiting on bated breath for answers. “Everything was a success. Well, he can’t talk, he’s sore and tired, and by the looks of it he wants most of us to leave so he can rest up. Yes, totally fine.”
By most she meant everyone but Hennie, who was holding his hand and sitting next to him on a chair.
She blushed and glanced down. I was so grateful she was here, even if it risked Jordan seeing her, which fortunately hadn’t happened yet.
Martin squeezed her hand. I stood up, wiping my eyes and smiling at him.
“I hate you.”
He lifted his middle finger up at me, his eyes filled with the love we never spoke of except in jest.
“Do you need anything?”
He shook his head, his eyes darting at Hennie and his eyebrows dancing.
Marcia and I both giggled.
“You’re a brat.” Marcia whacked his leg.
He flipped her off too.
“Promise you’ll be okay?” I asked once more, to both him and Hennie.
“Totally fine, Lacey.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m just glad this is over.” She squeezed his hand back, making him blush.
“Okay. Do you want food?” I asked her. “More coffee or tea?”
“No,” Hennie laughed. “I’ve had enough to last a week.”
“You want us to go, don’t you?” I asked Martin, trying to be loud enough that Mom could hear, though I doubted she would care. “All right, we’ll leave so we’re not crowding the room,” I said when he nodded, giving me the don’t be a cock block look. He was going to take all the Hennie love and adoration this cancer thing would get him.
“Grandma, you wanna come eat with us?”
“No, dear. I’m gonna stay and chaperone”—she winked at Martin, earning a scowl—“your mother and make sure she leaves.” She cackled teasingly.
“Okay.” I gave my brother one more look, kinda weirded out by Grandma relinquishing the reins to Hennie. “Text if you need anything.” He nodded, wanting us gone. He had it bad. And by the look on Hennie’s face and the grip of her hand, she felt the same. I hugged my parents, noting the difference in them both. They were lighter. Already.
And so was Hennie.
I breathed a sigh of relief at that—that Martin had his whole life ahead of him. Thanks to Mom being paranoid. Her helicopter parenting and maternal instincts toward Martin had paid off.
I waved at them as we left the room, checking a second major item off my list.
There was a feeling of bliss as we walked out.
I hadn’t been a fan of the Martin-and-Hennie thing, but I didn’t have to love it right now. I knew eventually I would be happy they’d found each other.
Just not yet. But maybe when he was out of high school.
But not yet.
At least I’d gotten away with Hennie and Jordan not seeing each other.
That was a problem for another day.
Chapter Thirty-Three
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LIMO, STAYS IN THE LIMO
Lacey
We walked from the hospital, the four of us, heading to Marcia’s car. “Thanks for coming, you guys.”
“Of course we came. Martin’s family.” Marcia wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I’m just glad he’s going to be okay. If you told me a month ago any of this would be happening, I would have said, ‘Not a chance.’ He’s seventeen for God’s sake. Also—” She paused, making me stop.
“What?”
“Speaking of his being seventeen and her being twenty-one. The cuteness of Hennie and Martin is a must. He adores her. And she clearly likes him. You can’t hate on that. Love is love. Even when it’s random like that. If your parents hadn’t held Martin back, he would be starting freshman year at college this fall. There’s nothing weird about a freshman and a senior dating. At all. And I can’t imagine them with anyone else. I almost died in there from the adorableness.”
“Fine.” I relented too easily because I knew she was right. They were cute. “I know.”
“Anyway, where to eat?” She lifted an eyebrow.
Monty broke in. “Honestly, I could go for something healthy. I’m feeling sluggish from all the drinking and bad eating.” He rubbed his abs. “I know it’s the beginning of summer, but I gotta get back into my routine.”
“I hear ya,” I agreed.
“I’m good for whatever.” Jordan shrugged, looking a little off. “I could eat my feelings or just have a smoothie.”
“Why don’t we just go to my place and get salads whipped up for us?” Marcia offered.
“Actually, I’m kinda beat from this entire week. I might just go home.” I was exhausted and ready for some down time.
“It’s Monday.” She furrowed her brow.
“Right, I mean the last seven days. Actually, longer. Since school ended, it’s been insane.” I glanced at Jordan and smiled. “I’ll text you guys. I’m gonna take the subway.” I hugged Marcia and Monty, but Jordan stepped away from them.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to ride the subway with me. I’m fine.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have to ride?” Marcia lifted an eyebrow. “No. Hell no. If I have to do it, he has to.”
“I insist.” Jordan said it like he might smile, but he didn’t. Something was wrong.
“Any boy who will ride the subway for you likes you. I should know.” She blew a kiss and grabbed Monty’s hand to pull him to the car. “I expect a rain check on everything, Lacey,” she shouted back at me as Darren got out and waved.
“Fine!” I waved at him.
“See ya at home, man. Bye, Lacey!” Monty waved at us.
I turned to Jordan. “See you at home?”
“Yeah. So where is the subway here?” He changed the subject with skill, but I wasn’t buying what he was selling.
“This way. Are you staying at Monty’s?”
“I am.” He nodded and followed me along the sidewalk. “My dad kicked me out. I am officially not his son.” He laughed, but it was a broken sound, not even his bitter laugh.
He glanced down through his thick inky lashes and blushed, finally giving up the reason he was being so weird, now that Martin was out of the woods and he no longer had to be strong for me.
“Tell me,” I insisted.
“Last night after you and I talked, I went upstairs to change.” He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “My dad confronted me. He called me selfish for ruining the business deal. He shoved me, and the next thing I knew I was holding him like I was going to punch him in the face.” He opened his eyes and stared at his hands, like they weren’t hi
s. “It was crazy. And then he kicked me out and said I was no son of his. My mom told me to go to my grandpa’s, but I don’t want to draw him into this. It’s my fault.”
“I’m so sorry.” I hated that his family was so insane. There was no imagining what that kind of rejection from your parents felt like. And it was worse that he’d done it because I’d told him to.
“Me too. I can’t believe I almost hit him. And he was so sloppy drunk.” His eyes flashed, like he was reliving a moment or two. “And now I’m crashing at Monty’s. Which means it’s time for me to move out of my parents’ house and buy my own place.”
“Buy your own place? But you’re cut off.”
“Oh, I have my own money. He can stop the payment of the rest of my trust if he wants to. I used what I already had to create my own investment portfolio, and—I’m fine. The point is I’m fine.”
“So you’ll have to buy your own place?” How weird was that?
“Yeah. And I was going to wait until you had less going on in your life, and be cooler about it all and tell you I needed help apartment shopping—”
“You want me to come apartment shopping?” My stomach started to hurt.
“Well, yes. I was thinking about saying something cheesy like I wanted a woman’s perspective or a second opinion. But really, I just wanted to see your face as I picked a place to live. I wanted you to like it enough to eventually come there, and hang out. And maybe you could have sleepovers and ultimately call yourself my girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. We’d just had a time warp to about a year away.
“Because I don’t have any skills with girls or a proper idea of how dating works.”
“Right, your mom picks girls for you,” I joked, hoping it lightened the mood.
“Yes. And I don’t know how this will work, if I’m now coming down to the lower deck with you, to ultimately drown. Or if you’re coming up to the top level to hang with me and the rest of the really terrible people.”
“They’re not all terrible,” I offered.
“I suppose not.” He didn’t seem more relaxed, though. In fact, he looked crushed, and it broke my heart. Something terrible had gone on with his family and he was devastated, no matter how much he tried to act like he had everything under control. “I don’t want to be that fake, polite guy with you. But I don’t know how to be this guy without being too honest. And I’ve known you for barely any time, and this is too fast to be this real.”
“That’s okay.” I slipped my hand into his, not sure of the protocol for a guy turning stage-four clinger or how to react when he skipped asking you out, but part of this was my fault. I squeezed his hand and offered the same comfort he’d given me on the stairs. “We had a heavy few days.”
He laughed, and again it slipped out like a sob.
I understood—not exactly, but sort of. School had ended, work started up, Martin got sick, and everything went to shit. Crickets and tuition and creepy guys and illnesses and partying and sweet guys turning up on yachts. I was burned out too.
“Tell me what kind of place you were thinking about getting,” I said softly as I led him down the sidewalk, gripping his hand, finally letting him hold mine like maybe this could be okay. Maybe.
“I don’t know. It needs to be close to the park. Maybe work.”
“So, you still work for your grandpa?”
“Yeah. When I got there this morning, he gave me a huge lecture on intertwining my personal life with business. He said he was disappointed in me, again. He told me that I would have to live with the decision I made to choose my own life over my father’s demands and the costs of business.” He rolled his eyes. “And then he gave me a case of scotch and cigars and said it was a housewarming gift for my new place since I was never allowed back at my dad’s.” He chuckled, but I swore I heard another subtle sob.
He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. “He said I had to move out on my own. That I’m too old to be in my parents’ house anyway. He also wanted to know how it felt being so close to hitting my dad. It seemed like he’d imagined being in my shoes one too many times. He said standing up to Dad was my final test toward ultimate manhood or whatever, and I passed. I failed as my father’s son and a businessman, but I passed as a man. To be honest, I have no idea what happened.”
“What the hell kind of family do you have?”
“I don’t even know anymore.” He actually chuckled a little.
“So, your grandpa still likes you?”
“Right.” He sighed.
“I’m not sure what to say.” I was so confused.
“Me either. But I will say, no matter how twisted this sounds, I hate my dad being pissed at me. I don’t want to be disowned.”
“So now what?” I changed the subject, feeling worse and worse about his predicament by the second. “You dig in your heels, take this freedom, and sleep on Monty’s sofa?”
“Not exactly.” He chuckled again, losing the sadness a little. “His guest room is fairly nice. And his mom said I could stay as long as I needed. She loves me.”
“Well, that’s lucky.
“I know. But to add fire to everything else, my mom filed this morning.” He swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Your parents are getting a divorce? Now?” I gasped. “This is too much.”
“I know. She had him served this afternoon. Stephen said he lost it. I actually feel bad—well maybe not bad, but I feel like he’s too dumb to know what kind of bed he’s made himself.”
“Will you try to patch things up with him?”
“I don’t know. He’s my dad, and he’s dumb, and now he’s going to be alone. Not right now while emotions are hot.”
“Oh my God.” I pulled my hand from his and wrapped my arms around him, holding him. “I’m so sorry, Jordan.” On some level this was a little bit my fault. He did say this would happen if he fought back, but I hadn’t really believed him. I hadn’t believed any parents could be that unkind to their own child.
“It’s been a weird day. Spermidine and all.” He laughed again.
“Jordan.” I pulled back, staring up at him. “You don’t have to joke. If you want to be sad, you can be.”
“I’m not exactly sad. Your brother is going to be okay. My Amy situation is over. My mom might actually start living her life for herself. My dad needs to realize he’s not the center of the universe, and maybe this crushing blow will force him to reevaluate some things. You didn’t cringe or run away when I mentioned apartment shopping, which means you’re contemplating having sleepovers.” He smiled and stared at me. “And maybe even contemplating being my girl. At the very least you’ll say yes to a date.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.” I forced a smile, still focusing a little on the Amy situation. “Maybe a date.”
“And you killed your cricket presentation.”
“Maybe don’t say it like that.” I wrinkled my nose.
“Right. Crushed, no. Rocked? Why is that wording so violent?” He stared intently, creating that weirdly tense moment between us again. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You are too.” I tilted my head as he lowered his face and kissed me fiercely, until I closed my eyes and let the feel of his lips against mine, finally, erase everything else.
All the background noise of people and vehicles and our weirdly dramatic lives faded.
His breath tickled my lips as he caressed them. Then he held his mouth on mine. We froze this way, fingers trembling, lips embracing, and bodies pressed against one another. It got awkward again.
And then it was as if something switched on. His hands gripped tighter, and his tongue slipped into my mouth as our faces turned and our mouths and hands began exploring. My fingers crawled up his shoulders as his crept down my back and eventually cupped my ass, lifting my dress a little.
We went from a polite street-side kiss to me trying to climb him like a tree.
“Wait!” He broke free, holding my a
rms and gasping for breath. His hair was ruffled, his eyes wild, and his shirt untucked. “We shouldn’t do this like this. Not here. My plac—wait, I don’t have a place. Hotel?” he asked, offering a deadly grin.
I couldn’t speak, but I nodded. I’d decided before I’d thought about the ramifications of what was about to happen.
He pulled his phone out and dialed. “Heinrich, it’s Jordon Somersby. I need that room again. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up and texted someone.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me in the opposite direction of the subway.
A limo pulled up, and he grabbed the door, just knowing it was for us. I stared at him for a second, making sure this was what we were doing. I needed a mental moment to reassess me and him and the fates I didn’t believe in, not entirely.
“Get in.” He almost growled it.
I nodded and jumped in, holding my breath as he dove into the car and slammed the door.
He didn’t talk to the driver, and the partition stayed shut.
He sat there for a moment, staring at me, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon.
I contemplated saying something, like maybe we should calm down or maybe we should just call it a night. But the taste of that kiss and the feel of him cupping me and pressing me into him was ringing through me. I struggled with my breath as I watched him, staring at the way he looked at me.
He was abandoned and sad and maybe a little broken, and I’d done that. I’d had a hand in it.
His broken heart tugged at mine while the kiss tugged everywhere else.
He licked his lips, and something clicked, and I attacked, climbing into his lap and wrapping my arms around him.
I kissed him hard, our mouths assaulting each other. I bit his lip as he grabbed my hips, pressing me into him, making me notice the bulge between his legs, as if I could miss it. I gasped in his mouth as he started rotating my hips, unyielding in his use of my body to massage his, forcing me to ride him and lifting my skirt. His fingers made trails of heat up and down my thighs, slipping into the sides of my underwear, as if contemplating.
I started fumbling with his belt, unable to wait, but he grabbed my hands again, pausing us. His cock was pressed against my underwear, and our mouths hovered over each other as we inhaled each other’s exhales.
