by Kars, C. M.
Hunter gets closer to me, forcing me to open my legs so his stomach and torso hit either side of my inner thighs as his arms wrap around my back.
“I’ll swear to Bruce Wayne if you want. I promise you that is all over with.”
“Then why all the secrecy? What could be so bad about what happened years ago?”
“I want you to know about me, the bad and the repulsive. Only then will I be deserving of you. I swear to Christ I’ll never let you down. Ever. You can count on me.” His eyes are blazing and his mouth is set in a sharp line. His whole body is tense, waiting for my answer. Maybe even willing me to believe him.
I stare at his beautiful face, and go over my options. If he says he’s clean, then he’s clean. And I mean, no one has a perfect past, right?
“I need you to answer me first.” Hunter nods. “You think I’m important in your life?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you think I’m important enough and Matty’s important enough in your life that whatever happened in the past will make me run away from you both?”
He clenches his jaw. “Yeah.”
I nod slowly. “And you think once I know the truth, and nothing but the truth, I’m going to run away screaming, right?” He nods again. “And you’re hoping I can perform some sort of miracle and stay with you?” Another nod. “Well, who the hell do you think I am?”
“I think you’re better than Bruce Wayne.”
My eyes flare, and my eyebrows pop high on my forehead. “Bruce Wayne saves people. He’s a hero,” I say.
Hunter grins, and pulls me close enough that our mouths touch. When he’s there, he doesn’t kiss me, but keeps on speaking. “Baby, you saved me that day in the hall.”
Fraking hell, there’s no way I’m running from him now.
I just got home from work and I’m not expecting company. That knock on the door comes again, more insistent this time.
Hunter won’t be home for a couple of hours, and my friends have been AWOL with the exception of Katie, who I get texts from on a regular basis. I look over into my kitchen, wondering if I should zip in and grab a knife from the drawer, the real sharp kind that has scalpel-like properties.
I ninja creep to the peephole, holding my breath and stare through it. I fall back on my heels a bit too hard from surprise, cracking my ankles. I unlock the door, and usher Tommy in with my empty hands. Lucky for him I don’t have any weapons.
“Thanks,” he says, and even that word infuriates me. I give his shoes a scathing look, and he gets the unspoken message to take them off.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Russia?” I move to the living room (safer for him) and sit on my couch. I watch him toe his shoes off, and stare around my place, looking more than a little apprehensive.
We are alone, and I did try to punch his face in.
Tommy sighs, joining me on my couch, making sure he’s on the far end.
“I volunteered to bring the happy news,” he says, eyes settling on his thighs, rubbing up and down on his slacks.
I really, really wish I could pop an eyebrow up.
“You’ve decided to get a vasectomy so you don’t breed?” I suggest.
The way his shoulders tense up a little and his body stiffens makes me feel like a bitch, but tough. I didn’t fraking ask him to say those things to Hunter, or to me.
“I deserve that. I really do.” He looks at me like I’m going to protest this statement. “I came to tell you that Alex and Teresa have gotten engaged.”
“WHAT!?!” Tommy flinches at the sound barrier I have broken with only my voice, and watches me as I get up from the couch and hop up and down, booty shaking and all. “Are you kidding me? When? Where? Did he get down on one knee and everything?!”
Tommy’s face is impossible to read. Stoic yes, but there might as well be a stone wall between us for all the good it does me to try and read him.
“Earth to Russia, what the hell? You gonna answer my questions, or do I have to start making calls?” I ask, waving a hand in front of his face.
His eyes are soft when he finally focuses on me. “I’m sorry I was a fucking asshole last time. There’s no excuse for what I said. I know I’m sorry doesn’t cover what I did, or how I treated you, but I hope that punch made you feel better. How’s your hand by the way?” Russia and remorse do not go together, but here he is.
“Cast came off three weeks ago.” Now he’s acting weird. Maybe he’s never apologized before, like really apologized. His words are stilted like he’s never used them before.
“I was a dick and an asshole, and whatever other word you want to use to describe me.”
“Then why in hell did you say it? Why did you say those things to me?”
He winces, and looks away. “It sort of just came out, you know?”
I cross my arms over my chest, and join him on the couch in the furthest seat away from him.
“Fuck, I just saw you bring the plate to him, and I know how you make a giant fuss when one of us cracks a joke about it. And you know how sexy my imagination is, everything turns to that, and it just popped out of my mouth, and fuck, your face. It was like you didn’t know whether to be angry or start crying. That look was hard to take. I didn’t sleep well that night, let me tell you.”
“Good. And for the record, when I was staring at you, I was plotting your death.”
Tommy grimaces and rubs his mouth. Stares out to my balcony, refusing to make eye contact with me. “Was it bad?”
“It was more of a feed your own guts to you variety. It was very therapeutic at the time before I decided to bust your face in.”
He lets out a little yelp of surprised laughter. “I had to tell my boss I got an elbow in the face playing soccer.”
“Did he believe it?”
Tommy shrugs and finally looks at me. “I think so. I mean, not a lot of people would believe a friend would do that to me.”
“They would’ve asked for the reason behind it, and you know it. Always covering your own ass. How are you going to get a girl like that?”
Tommy shrugs, staring off into the distance. “Anyway, sorry for going off on a tangent. Alex proposed on Friday night, where Teresa worked, and yes he got down on one knee. Like a boss.”
I smile at him, even though he’s not looking at me.
“I also wanted to tell you that the engagement party is three Saturday’s from tomorrow and Hunter is welcome to come. We’re doing it at his parent’s restaurant, and it’s a black-tie affair. No jeans, or your shirts, alright?”
“You love my shirts, you’re just too afraid to admit it, Russia.”
He grins at me, and leans forward to kiss my hand. Hunter does it so much better. “I’ve got to go now, I ended up double-parking in front of the building. I’ll see you at the engagement party?”
“You will. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Anything for you, kitten.”
I move to the doorway, rushing my steps so I get there first to let him out. He leaves, giving me a half-wave with three fingers. I salute him and close my door.
Wow. Alex. Engaged.
Maybe we are living in an alternate universe. I don’t think any of us ever thought he would get engaged first, or even at all. Huh. Yeah, that alternate universe theory is looking better and better.
It feels like the right place to be.
***
I walk over to Hunter’s place as soon as I hear their door close. I can also hear that Matty is full-on sobbing, not the tantrum kind of not getting anything to go his way, but hurting crying, like he’s gone and scraped both knees and hands.
I didn’t know it would be like this. To feel so much for such a little person that I’m not even sure he understands my love for him. Or the way it makes me sick and helpless to hear him cry like that.
I knock on the door and wait for Hunter to open it for me. When he does, I take a half-step back at the look on his face. His skin’s tight over his cheekbones, his eyes are too bright in
his face, and the rim of his mouth is white. He looks...lost.
Heart in my throat, I swallow down the panic and the concern and move into his apartment, looking for Matty. If I can calm him down, I can do the same for Hunter.
“He’s just having a tantrum,” Hunt says, turning away from me once he closes and locks the door. He stalks to the kitchen on stiff legs and opens the fridge. I watch with a sick fascination as he pulls out a syringe from his stash from a nearby drawer, and upends the vial of his insulin and sticks in his syringe. I watch him pull out fifteen units, do some complicated things where he shoves the liquid back in to get rid of the air bubbles only to repeat the process. When he’s done that, he shoves his back to me, and I know he’s injecting himself.
I’m surprised to find myself more than a little miffed that he’s doing that. Hunter’s shutting me out. Just like before.
What the fuck happened?
“Sera! Sera!” Matty winds himself around my legs and I can feel his tears and snot soaking through my jeans. The violent part of me wants to snarl and promise that I’ll hurt every single one of those kids back before the rational part of my brain steps in.
“What happened today, kid?” I ask, voice soft, as I unwind his arms and go to my knees on the floor. I settle on my heels so that we’re almost eye-level and wipe away his tears, and have to stifle a grin when he rubs his nose along his arm.
“I was playing with Candace, just like you said, and we were playing Harry Potter.” I imagine the pair of them holding little twigs in the yard and shouting out weird things for spell names and acting them out. “And then Jack came along and pushed me to the ground and I hit the swing in the yard and now my head really really hurts!”
“Did you push him back?” The vindictive part of me asks.
He shakes his head and his face crumples up and more tears come. “I couldn’t even stand up after I fell. Everything was turning and my tummy still hurts!” he sobs.
I palm his face and look into his eyes. Shit. I get up and turn the kitchen light on, go back to Matty and tilt his chin up so his eyes are in the direct line of the light. His pupils aren’t shrinking. Fuck a duck.
“Hunter, he has a concussion!” No answer, not even a sound of movement. I look into the kitchen. Hunter’s standing still with his back to me, arms on either side of himself on the counter, holding up his weight. His head is down, his whole body sagging onto his hands.“Hunter? We need to go to the hospital.”
“No! No hospital!” Matty yells, moving out of my hands only to stumble on the flat surface of the floor and hit the ground again on his ass. His whole body moves like a bobblehead, probably making his concussion worse.
Hunter still hasn’t answered me. My palms are clammy, and I rub them up and down on my jeans.
“Okay, Matty. Just calm down. Sit there, and don’t move. I’m going to get you some ice, okay? And I’ll give you something for the pain.” The words come out like a trained professional, all the right answers but inside I’m full of fireworks of emotion. Worry, lots and lots of worry that gnaws at my gut like it’s a living thing. Confusion at Hunter’s reaction and why he didn’t take him to the hospital straight away. Hot guilt flooding my cheeks because I didn’t come over sooner. Helplessness when I think of all the coulda-woulda-shouldas that might have happened instead. A pox on the little kid who pushed him and the horse he rode in on. Christ, I don’t mean that, but maybe I do.
I scramble into the kitchen, opening the freezer for ice. Right, I need a cloth. In three steps I’m in Hunter’s bathroom, searching the cupboards for small hand towels or whatever. Snagging my target, I rush back into the kitchen and pour water over it in the sink. Damn, I left the freezer open. Pulling out the ice tray and do the twisting crack-crack thing and pull out four ice cubes.
“Stop what you’re doing. He’s fine,” Hunter says from behind me. I fumble with the ice cubes, trying to find the best angle to put them in the cloth so when I roll it up, the cold will seep through, and not spill them out.
“He’s not fine. He has a fraking concussion. I can’t believe this. Didn’t anybody at the daycare tell you?” I growl, finally rolling up the cloth, and getting ready to move around the counter. A hand around my bicep halts my progress, and I feel like the Roadrunner - legs moving faster than the eyes can see, eating into the ground but not moving anywhere.
“He’s fucking fine, Sera. He just needs to stop crying over every fucking little thing that bothers him.”
My body jerks. “What did you say?” I know what he said, and worst of all, I know Matty heard every single word. “What the hell did you just say?!”
“Stop coddling him! You’re going to make him worse!”
I tear my arm out of his grasp, and turn to give him a death glare. A death glare so great, it would send Dean Winchester into fits of hysteria.
“He has a concussion. Is that clear enough for you? His brain is swollen. We have to take him to the hospital.”
“He’s not your kid!” Hunter yells in my face, eyes blazing with fury.
“I don’t fucking care. You’re not taking care of him, so I WILL! Step aside! God, what is up your ass?”
“My ass? My ass? Are you fucking kidding me? I have this, this fucking kid hanging around me all the time, reminding me of her,” he spits out the last bit like it’s a piece of rancid food. “And you! You’re just making everything worse! I NEVER WANTED HIM IN MY LIFE! I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS SHIT!” Hunter roars, getting his whole body behind it. I wonder if anybody in the adjacent apartments heard him and are now calling nine-one-one.
The cold from the cloth is finally seeping into my hand, and a part of me is proud of myself that I could do that right. The other part is spit-raving angry, and if I had ever been dosed up with gamma rays, I’d fuck Hunter up real bad and Hulk-out right about now.
I pull in a deep breath through my nose, letting it calm me enough to put the fakest of smiles on my face while I position the cloth on Matty’s head where he tells me it hurts most. With instructions to keep it there and sit tight, I crook a finger at Hunter and point him to his bedroom. How could one person be so infuriating?
Fists clenched, I open his bedroom door and pace. When he closes it, I let loose... of everything.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, saying those things in front of Matty? Fucking hell, Hunter, what is wrong with you?” I can’t help myself, I push him. He wasn’t expecting it, so his back goes up against the wall, and his eyes get wide. “That little boy out there, he’s everything I could ever want in a kid. Do you understand? Matty is everything that’s good in the world. Do you know what it means to come home, and he’s happy to see you? I don’t understand how you can take that love for granted. And then! And then you say those horrible, awful things to him. I don’t fucking care if you didn’t want him, if he wasn’t planned. Matty is a gift, you fucking asshole, and if you can’t see that, then you need help. Serious fucking help.”
I’m panting, and I want to punch his face in.
“You know, he told me that you hated him. Hate is a strong word, a word that should only be reserved for people who are truly evil on this planet, and he used it in context with you, his Dad. You know what that says, you asshole? Whatever you’ve been doing for the last four years of his life has meant fuck-all to him. He gives you his love, and yeah, he’s a kid, and I know he can be annoying, and restless or whatever, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a fucking dick back! He’s your son, whether you like it or not! He’s your little boy!”
Hunter’s looking at me with wide eyes, and the way his chest moves up and down in shallow movements, it’s like he’s trying to hold his breath, or he’s afraid to breathe around me.
“I’ve been on the side where my parents couldn’t give a shit, alright? I know what it’s like. I’m not going to sit by and watch you do that to him! I don’t care if I’m not his Mom, I will go to fucking court, and somehow, some fucking way, I will adopt him and you will never see him aga
in! Is that what you want? To erase him from your life? You ungrateful bastard. Get the fuck out of my way. I’m taking him to the hospital, and so help me, if you even think of following me, you’re going to get an emergency visit out of it, too.”
I slam out of his room, only to find Matty standing at the door, shoes on, holding the ice to his head. The poor little guy probably heard me. My heart twinges and it makes a small amount of my fury dissipate just not enough to turn around and listen to what Hunter has to say.
Grabbing Hunter’s keys from the kitchen counter, I rush over with Matty to my place and grab my purse, locking up and taking the stairs with Matty in my arms to get down to the basement. No way am I waiting for any elevator now.
***
I get to the hospital in ten minutes, get my ticket thingie, park and I’m hauling Matty into my arms and running for the emergency department. Signing in, I tell him the clerk behind the inch-thick pane of glass that Matty has a suspected concussion, and sit down in the waiting room, ready for the long wait. I had the forethought to bring Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in my purse, but, yeah, great, no phone. As we are in a secluded corner, I put my feet up on the chair beside me, Matty lies down facing me, head on my chest, and I start to read.
I wake him up every time he dozes off, freaking out because I’ve never actually had to stay up with someone whose had a concussion before. I mean, I know what to do in theory, but theory always seems to go flying out the window when you need to actually do something.
I wake Matty up again when our name is called, and the doctor in question looks me up and down like I’m the reason Matty has a concussion. He asks Matty to repeat his story twice, maybe looking for trip-ups in details or whatever. I just watch and keep quiet.
When the doctor’s done with his examination, he tells me to watch him for the night, as indeed, yes, he has a concussion. The doctor asked if he threw up and I told him no (which is what Matty told me before). He nods like this is a good thing. He asks if I have Children’s Motrin at home, and that’s the only thing I can give him for any type of pain he might experience. I also need to make sure he doesn’t sleep tonight, which I plan to do.
