Surrender

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  “Mom!” Amelia’s shout could probably be heard across the country.

  I ran into the kitchen and stuttered to a stop when I saw that Drew was already putting eggs and bacon on Amelia’s plate and asking if she wanted orange juice.

  He knew we had an appointment today. I’d mentioned it before all of this started. Was he just trying to distract her? And had he really asked her about us? Exhaustion was already creeping in as I imagined all the scenarios where Drew and Amelia plotted against me.

  My eyes narrowed. I went from feeling bad to wondering what his angle was. We hadn’t parted on the greatest of terms last night.

  And I knew it was my fault, but he’d been extremely invasive!

  And now he was in my kitchen.

  Cooking for my daughter.

  “Your eggs are so much better.” Amelia moaned around another bite.

  “Amelia.” I kept my voice even and forced myself not to look at Drew; it hurt this early, physically hurt to see his beauty. “Don’t you have friends over?”

  She waved me off. “They slept in, and I got up early for a run and ran into Drew, literally, since he was on his run, and then he asked if I’d eaten, and here we are!”

  She spread her arms out in triumph.

  I smiled as she poked another piece of bacon away from the griddle where Drew was cooking, earning a smack from his spatula. She stuck out her tongue, but he just winked his flirty wink.

  Something stabbed me in the chest.

  Anger…?

  No, why would I be angry?

  I wanted them to get along, didn’t I?

  What was this feeling?

  This… oh no, oh no, no, no, no. Jealousy? Was I jealous of my own daughter? Of the way she laughed with him so freely, when all I did was waste every ounce of energy I had on keeping my shields up as if that would save me from a guy like Drew Amhurst.

  I gulped and guiltily looked away. What was I even doing right now? Every time one of us opened up, I ruined it.

  “Gorgeous,” Drew barked.

  I didn’t look up.

  “He’s talking to you, Mom…” Amelia laughed. “I swear you don’t realize how beautiful you are sometimes. All right, I’m off to go shower, and Drew, it was a pleasure. Next time, maybe you’ll beat me when we race.”

  He pointed the spatula at her. “You tripped me twice, then threw sand in my face, then wondered why I nearly impaled myself on a seashell.”

  “It was like this big.” She rolled her eyes and held out her fingers, making a small inch measurement.

  He sputtered. “You lie!”

  “Maybe.” She laughed. “All right, Mom, I haven’t gotten any calls. You?”

  I deflated. “No, but maybe that’s a good thing?”

  “Maybe…” Her smile fell a bit, and then she was hugging me before walking away, leaving me alone with the rockstar and his eggs.

  His really good-looking eggs.

  And his gorgeous face.

  A nose ring.

  Perfect biceps.

  Tattoos for days.

  Why was I chasing him away again?

  “I’m not on the menu.” He tsked with a smirk. “So, if you’re gonna look, I’m going to have to charge you, B.”

  I tilted my head to the left and regarded him, one eyebrow raised.

  He offered a nonchalant shrug. “Bronte’s too much of a mouthful. Plus, it sounds so stupid polite.” He started piling a plate with eggs and bacon. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and you’re more of a B.”

  “B?”

  “B-Dog.” He nodded. “Like B-Magic, B‘man, B‘woman, you get the gist.”

  “Not really.” I fought to keep from smiling. “Does that mean I get to call you D?”

  He shoved the plate in front of me then leaned forward so I could smell his perfect cologne and see the dimple at the corner of his full mouth. “That depends. Do I get something out of it, B?”

  I licked my lips.

  “Maybe don’t do that,” he whispered. “Just makes me want to take a bite.”

  “Of bacon?”

  “Of your mouth.” His eyes darted lower. “And other things.”

  “Amelia’s in the other—”

  “We have an understanding.”

  “Huh?”

  “I talked with her, told her I was going to get you pregnant and be her new daddy.”

  “WHAT!”

  He released an evil chortle that morphed into riotous laughter. “Okay, first of all, take a joke. Second, she would have slapped me across the face like someone else did last night. No, I just told her what my intentions were.”

  I squirmed in my seat and poked at my eggs with my fork, gripping it so tight my fingers ached. “And what are those?”

  “Come here.” He crooked his finger.

  I leaned forward, holding my breath, anticipation making my whole body tingle, only to have him whisper, “It’s a secret.”

  I jerked back. “But—”

  “Eat. We have a full day today!”

  “We do?” I frowned. “But Amelia has her appointment. I can’t miss it, and tomorrow’s—”

  “Your birthday and the next day’s your anniversary.” His smile was infectious. “So, we’re going to continue this Little Bronte Gets Her Groove Back plan, but I’m going to put something into place. Think of it as a new rule.”

  “I’m listening.” I took a bite of egg and waited.

  “No touching.”

  I choked down the egg and reached for my juice then rasped, “I’m sorry?”

  “Me too. So…” He eyed me up and down. “…damn sorry… sorry for days, months, years, maybe even centuries.”

  “Drew?” I snapped my fingers.

  “Anyway.” His smile was back. “I think it’s making you think too hard about all the reasons you couldn’t, shouldn’t, can’t. Ergo, I’m going to take temptation away.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “Just like that?”

  He gave a curt nod and crossed his arms. “Just like that.”

  “So, your plan is for me to just have really good self-control?”

  His eyes lit up. “Of course. Should be easy, right?”

  “Can you touch me?”

  “Sadly, no, the rule goes both ways.”

  “And if I want to break it?”

  “Then break it, but once you do…” A triumphant grin washed over his face. “…no going back.”

  “Okay, once I cross the line…”

  “You’re basically stuck with me touching you all the time. Your choice, cupcake.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right, I’m going to go shower my sweat off. You’re, of course, more than welcome to join me, just remember the rules, and I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes to go with you to Amelia’s appointment. And then we have a date!”

  “We do, do we?” I couldn’t help my smile.

  “Oh, yes,” He grabbed a book and held it up. “I have plans for us.”

  “Why does that look so fa—” Horrified, I jumped out of my seat and ran around the island full speed.

  “Aw, you’re so short.” He held it above his head. “By the way, I love the way your daughter’s mind works. She’s… a bit dangerous. We really need to keep an eye on her with all those Ryans running around.”

  I jumped and swatted at his hand. “If Ryan touches her, we kill him.”

  “Finally, we agree on something.” He lifted the book higher.

  “Give it!” I huffed.

  “Nope.” He opened it with both hands. “By the way, I would have never thought you were voted most likely to die from a fry addiction.”

  My eyes widened. “EVERYONE LIKES FRIES!”

  “But, I mean, dying for them?” He patted my head. “A bit extreme.”

  “Drew!”

  “Are you going to full name me? Oh God, I’ve dreamed about that for days. Do it, do it already. I’m waiting.”

  “DREW AMHURST!”

  “There it is.” Gleeful laughter bur
st forth. “Wow, I think I just got hard.”

  “I hate you!”

  “No, you don’t.” His laughter slowed to a chuckle. “I’ll just be taking this yearbook with me back to my room. Might memorize a few things. Oh, and I’d strap the hell in because, after last night, I’m not showing any mercy.” His eyes heated to the point that I almost fell into a sweaty pool at his feet. “Oh, and by the way, I’m honored that you wore my face on your shirt during Celebrity Crush Day your senior year.”

  “Dead. I’m killing her DEAD!” I roared loud enough for Amelia to hear.

  The door shut to more of Drew’s laughter.

  I stomped into Amelia’s room. Her friends were still sleeping, and the shower was running, meaning I couldn’t yell at her.

  I stomped back out, crossed my arms, and then prayed for an asteroid to hit the earth.

  My yearbook.

  I should have thought ahead.

  Betrayed by my own flesh and blood.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, but the embarrassment wouldn’t alleviate. And now, Drew would know even more secrets.

  He would see my eighteen-year-old self dancing to his music at Sadie Hawkins; he would see the teen mom trying to finish school and balance life; he would see me wearing his face… He would see so many things I didn’t want him to see.

  But most of all, Drew, would finally see me.

  And I’d never been more scared.

  CHAPTER 11

  Andrew

  I was already shaking with the need to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was wearing it down, maybe to torture me. To torture all men in general? I had no clue.

  I’d spent half the drive trying not to get in a car accident while Bronte and Amelia talked about a movie Amelia wanted to see, then she started asking about going out with her friends, and then my hackles rose as she said the name, Ryan.

  In reality, she said it like a normal human.

  But in my head?

  It was slow motion. Thunder cracked afterward, and I swerved in an effort not to get struck by lightning, all before slamming on the brakes and turning around, jabbing my finger in her direction and going. “No!”

  It wasn’t my proudest moment.

  The car was silent.

  Bronte hid her laugh behind her hand, and Amelia glared at me as if I’d just told her she couldn’t date until she was forty, which, in hindsight? Not the worst idea I’d ever had.

  “What do you mean, no?” Amelia glared. “You’re not my—”

  “Say I’m not your dad, and I’m turning this car around right now!” I barked.

  Amelia sputtered while Bronte started choking on another laugh.

  “And you!” I pointed at Bronte. “Just letting her talk about dirty little Ryan as if he even has a chance with someone like Amelia!”

  I was parked, so I reached for my phone.

  “Wait, what is he doing?” Amelia asked in a panicked voice.

  “No idea,” Bronte said, obvious amusement in her voice.

  “Yeah, hey, Frank? Yeah, I got a problem that needs taken care of.”

  “MOM!” Amelia shrieked. “What the heck?”

  “Oh?” On the other end of the line, Frank chuckled. “What sort of problem? You know if it’s a person, I may need a social security number, do a little background check.”

  “Oh, that’s part of the problem,” I said through clenched teeth. “There’s this guy, and sure, I can get his social, shouldn’t be a problem—”

  “MOM, DO SOMETHING!” Amelia yelled.

  Bronte just yawned and stared down at her phone.

  “YOU GUYS ARE SO LAME! DREW! I HELPED YOU! AND YOU BETRAY ME WITH ONE PHONE CALL!”

  I held up my hand. “Shhh. Not-Dad’s speaking, squirt.”

  Bronte shook in her seat and then started laughing so hard she had tears running down her gorgeous cheeks

  “Well…” Frank sighed. “…sounds like you have things under control. Is that a teenager yelling at you?”

  “It’s what they do.” I blew out a long, slow breath.

  “You’re telling me,” he said in a tired voice. “Really, though, do I need to check this punk out? Why don’t you just scare him shitless?”

  “He’s too stupid to be afraid!” I raged. “I could tell him I was going to cut his tongue out and feed it to a pig, and he’d probably burp and go, ‘We got pigs?’”

  “Mom!” Amelia groaned. “Ryan isn’t that dumb!”

  “If he can spell cat, I quit life!” I yelled back at her. “Plus, he has eyes!”

  “EVERYONE HAS EYES!” she roared. “Mom, he’s crazy!”

  “What did you say?” I hissed. “I’m not crazy. Hold on, Frank, I have a teenager to calm down.”

  Frank chuckled again. “Yeah, good luck with that. Do you know how many grandkids I have?”

  “Too many,” I grumbled. “Hey, saw Chase on TV. Pretty cool, he’s running for a seat in the Senate.”

  Amelia’s eyes went wide. “Who’s he talking to?”

  “Shh…” I hushed her. Then I whispered, “Mafia.”

  “He’s kidding.” Bronte laughed.

  “He’s not.” Frank and I said at the same time.

  “Well,” Frank said, “good luck with that. Don’t be a stranger, and if you really need help, call me later. I got a few guys in Seattle. Would be a short trip.”

  “Toward death,” I said cheerfully.

  “Well, I meant to Portland, but sure, scare the teen shitless. Say something about dental records.”

  I snorted. “What was that? You won’t even be able to identify him with his dental records?”

  “Mom.” Amelia sounded so freaked out that I felt nothing but joy in my soul.

  My job was done.

  Frank outright laughed. “Nice. All right, talk to you soon.”

  “Yup!”

  I hung up and turned slowly toward Amelia. “No Ryans.”

  “Or what?” she squeaked.

  “Well, you only heard half that conversation.” I grinned. “Use your imagination, small one.”

  “Mom.” She clenched her teeth.

  “Sorry.” Bronte grinned. “Looks like Not-Your-Dad has put down his foot, and who am I to tell him to pick it up? I mean, he’s not wrong.” She winked at me. “No Ryans.”

  I held up my fist.

  Bronte bumped it.

  I made an exploding motion with mine, earning an eye roll and “You’re so lame” from Amelia, but I noticed, as I pulled back into traffic, she was smiling down at her phone.

  See? She didn’t need any fucking Ryans.

  She just needed us. Her mom…

  And Not-Your-Dad, aka me.

  Mission accomplished.

  I smiled the entire way to the hospital, but the mood didn’t last long as we pulled into the parking lot.

  The SUV was completely silent as if we weren’t sure if we’d be smiling or planning more treatments when we came back outside.

  “Ready?” Bronte exhaled like she’d been holding her breath and shared a petrified glance with me before checking back on Amelia.

  Amelia nodded once and then clenched her cell in her right hand, so tight her fingers went white. “No, but let’s go anyway.”

  “You know,” I interrupted and showed her my phone. “We have about ten minutes, and that’s just enough time for a lame, boring Not-Your-Dad ‘when I was your age’ pep talk.”

  Amelia pressed her lips tighter and rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure nobody has time for that—”

  “You see,” I cleared my throat, ready for the encouraging lie. “…back when I was the quarterback at my old high school, living my best life, dating all the hot cheerleaders, and you know, all around peaking and under the impression that I’d always be surrounded by beautiful women instead of working three jobs and paying a mortgage, I too had a big day.”

  “Let me guess…” Amelia grinned. “Big game?”

  “State championship,” I lied. “Naturally, I threw the winning
touchdown with a broken arm and black eye.”

  “Naturally.” Amelia grinned. “I mean, how else do you gain small-town glory?”

  “Or get the key to the city,” I added. “The point is that moment would have never happened had I stayed in the car. No matter what you face, whether it’s a big or small, staying in one place never changes the outcome.”

  Bronte smiled. “How uncharacteristically wise of someone who peaked at eighteen.”

  “Right?” I agreed. “All that matters, Amelia, is that you have a mom who loves you, a brother who would murder for you — who, by the way, hates Ryan too—” I’d fill him in later. “— a kick-ass older sister, and really good friends. So right now may be a shit time—”

  “Not-My-Dad said, ‘shit,’ Mom!”

  “I’ll forgive it.” She winked.

  “Consider a dollar added to Trevor’s family swear jar.” God knew he could probably buy a new Bentley at this point with all the dollars I’d had to donate when I stayed there briefly.

  Damn those Legos!

  “As I was saying, it may be a shit time, but you’ve got love, and if you have love, you’re the richest person in the world.”

  Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Is this the part where you give me an awkward side hug, tell me not to do drugs, and try to explain sex?”

  I made a face. “Amateur. Not-Your-Dad penciled that in right after dinner!”

  “I look forward to this talk the way I do root canals.” Amelia laughed. Her words said one thing; her body language said thank you.

  “All right.” Bronte grabbed her purse. “Let’s go in.”

  We all piled out of the car and started walking toward the stark tan brick building. I reached for Bronte’s hand and squeezed it, only to feel someone else reaching for mine on the other side.

  Amelia held my hand tight and whispered under her breath as we walked. “Best Not-My-Dad pep talk in the world.”

  “More where that came from.” I winked down at her and didn’t miss the wistful look she gave me, or the way it made my heart squeeze in my chest as I wondered what it would be like if I took off the “Not.”

  And the “My.”

  And just kept the “Dad.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Bronte

  I couldn’t believe that Amelia had grabbed his hand.