Slow Burn (The Archer Brothers)

by Rose Harper

  There isn’t a family picture where all those boys, Derrick included, aren’t in them. They still live here, working for my father and his brother, my uncle, but from what I hear by their updates, they’ve all grown into the men I thought they would be. The only two wildcards in our family are my two newest brothers that probably don’t even remember me, Ryker and Luca.

  They were just two when I picked up and moved to Hollywood. I’d like to say I came back for holidays to be with them and birthdays to congratulate them on being one year older, but I would be lying. Everything changed when I moved to Hollywood, and something tells me I was the catalyst that started it all—well, my father was the catalyst that started it all.

  Sighing, I walk down the last step and smile softly as I hear the rambunctious voices drifting in from the dining room. This is what I always missed about being around family. It didn’t matter if you were loud, someone was always louder than you. Of course, none of us got mad being talked over, we merely laughed and moved on. There was an easiness between all of us; we all knew who each other were and accepted them wholeheartedly. Damn, until now I didn’t know how much I missed being around the ones I loved.

  Moving my way toward the sounds, I go to say something as I walk under the archway, then come to a dead halt. My eyes scan the table, seeing everyone sitting in their respected places, and horror instantly assaults me.

  Derrick warned me. He said if I was late I’d suffer the consequences. Well, motherfucker was right, because the only goddamn chair left in the dining area is the one just right of Sparrow, who is glaring like a motherfucker at me right now.

  “You seem to be a little late,” Derrick spoke up with a shit-eating grin resting on his lips.

  Flicking my eyes toward him, I narrow them. “Give me your seat.”

  “Now …” He barks out a laugh. “Why would I do that?”

  “You know why,” I murmur low, snapping my eyes toward his sister, then back to him.

  He says nothing, just continues to smile at me. A person retreating from their seat gathers my attention, and I see a petite little thing who can’t possibly be more than fifteen steps away from the table and walks up to me. Who the fuck is this little girl and where the hell did this family steal such an innocent looking thing from?

  “I’m Darcy.” Goddamn, her voice is even that of a teenager.

  “Declan. Nice to meet you,” I reply, shaking her outstretched hand. “May I ask who you are?”

  “Oh, I’m that knucklehead’s fiancée.” She smiles.

  “Well, shit, it is really nice to meet you, sweetheart. Got a last name to go along with that pretty face?” See, I can be cordial when I want to be.

  “Drakeson.”

  Tilting my head, a secretive smile rests on my lips as my eyes meet Derrick’s. I cock my eyebrow up mischievously, watching as the color slowly drains from his face as he catches onto my line of thinking. Horror flashes through his eyes as they flick between Darcy and me, knowing exactly what I’m about to do next. It’s payback time, bitch, and this motherfucker owes it in spades.

  You see … I didn’t know who this broad was before, but her last name brought it all back to me. Every single thing Derrick did to me in jest when we were younger.

  “Oh, really?” This is going to be fucking good.

  “Yes.” She giggles. “Declan Archer.”

  I now know why Derrick kept her a secret from me. He didn’t want me to get back at him for cockblocking me when I was sixteen—with Darcy’s older sister. Shit is about to get real in the Jameson house, and I’m in the eye of the storm.

  “Well, with it being tradition and all, you can’t see the groom before the wedding.” My smile turns up.

  “That’s only the night before, dipshit,” Sparrow inserts, massive amounts of eye rolling dripping from her words.

  Bringing my attention to her, I shoot a smile toward her, even though I know for a fact the grin looks forced. Hey, there’s only so much you can pretend around that broad before you start getting fed up with it. “I’m here now, and my opinion is the only one that matters. Tradition has been changed because I say so.”

  “Oh, my God, we’re going to need some boots because the shit’s getting high in here.”

  “You want pink or purple, little bird?” I ask, knowing the use of my nickname for her will light a fire in her. She can forbid me all she wants, but I’m still going to call her that. She’ll always be little bird to me, whether she’s pissed or not.

  Just as I suspect, her eyes start burning hatred through me. I meant what I said before; I’m nothing like her family. Her bitchiness can be at full volume, and I still wouldn’t back down. That’s just not who I am. I’m the type of man who pushes buttons, not shies around them.

  “You’re pushing it, Archer,” she fumes, pursing her lips.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jameson.” I purse my lips right back at her, internally fist pumping when she huffs and falls back in her chair in surrender.

  A few seconds of silence extend between everyone at the table before they all burst into a fit of laughter. Jacob looks at Sparrow, pointing a finger, tears blanketing his eyes.

  “He told you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she picks up her wineglass and takes a small sip. Her eyes don’t meet mine as I make my way around the table. She doesn’t even acknowledge me when I take the seat next to her. Does it hurt my feelings she’s giving me the silent treatment now? No. But it does broach the question of why she’s so prickly when it comes to me begin around.

  She may have everyone fooled, but she doesn’t fool me. I can see right through that tough exterior. See right through the barbs she tosses like they’re candy from a Pez dispenser. She’s hiding something, and as God as my witness, I will find out what it is before I go home.

  Chapter Nine

  Sparrow

  “Oh, baby, I wish you were here, too,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. It’s been three days since I last saw him, but it feels like forever!

  “Mom,” he sobs, “I miss you!”

  “I know, baby. I know,” I reply, cooing. “It’s all going to be okay. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  It’s always hard when I have to leave Drake behind with Brandy, but I can’t risk anyone finding out about him. They wouldn’t understand the lengths I’ve gone to keep him from everyone; the risks I’ve had to take.

  I found out I was pregnant with this magical human being two months after I left for college. Considering that college was over eight hours away from my family, I was scared yet relieved that no one chose to visit me at the time of my pregnancy. It’s not that my family didn’t have the money; it’s the fact they had their own lives to lead. My father, being a successful owner of several hotels up and down the East Coast, was too busy to come see me. My mother, being my father’s right-hand woman, couldn’t visit as often.

  My brothers all went into business with my father, so they didn’t have time on their hands, either. Instead, Jacob and Caleb were elbow deep in the financial department, and Derrick was busy being the COO of PeShelle Resort and Spa. It was his duty to scout the country for my father’s next destination to put another resort, which is the reason he has no time for anyone except his fiancée.

  So, I was all by myself in Kentucky. The only time I would come back was for major holidays, such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even then, I only stayed a weekend at most. I know my family wanted to know why I’d been distancing myself over the years, but I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d been through. The heartache I still live through from having to do all this alone.

  I know their loyalties are to me, but that still doesn’t mean they wouldn’t out me to the Archers. My parents were always firm believers about doing the right thing, but what if you didn’t know what the right thing was? What if the right thing to you is the wrong thing to someone else? That’s where my parents’ guidance becomes skewed. Because I know it’s wrong to withhol
d my son from both sets of grandparents and his father, but I can’t run the risk of losing him altogether.

  That’s what would happen, too. Declan’s mother turned from this motherly piece of perfection into a cutthroat beast who wants nothing more than the next dollar to line her pocket. Even though Declan may want something to do with his son, if he knew he existed, his mother would want time with him on mere principle. She’d do it because the only thing she saw when she looked at my family is dollar signs.

  My son is a catalyst that can make or break the Jameson family, and I didn’t want him to be part of that. I don’t want him to be part of any of it.

  So, I’ve kept him a secret. Hid him away like he doesn’t mean the absolute world to me. Been a beast of a woman myself just so people wouldn’t want to spend time with me. It’s not because I hate my family and turned into this horrible mess of a person. It’s because I’m protecting my child from a lifetime of pain and sadness that could come from everyone finding out about him.

  It may be wrong. I’m not trying to justify my actions. But I would die for that perfect, smart, genuinely loveable little boy. Before him, I thought I knew what love was. I thought the feelings I had for Declan were that of love. But, after going through my pregnancy and being a single mother for the past nine years, I’ve come to realize this: people may think the sun rises and sets on a man or woman they desire, but it doesn’t. It rises and sets because of your child—the little person you share a connection with. It’s an instant love that flows through you the moment you set eyes on them for the first time. It’s a love you know will never be extinguished.

  However, at the same time, I know I’m hurting my son. I know he wants to know his father, grandparents, and his uncles. Just because I’ve kept him a secret doesn’t mean he knows nothing about them. It doesn’t mean I don’t share pictures with him and tell him about them all the time because I do. We have hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures scattered throughout our house, showcasing every single person that means something to him.

  I tell him stories of how I met his father. I tell him about his poppy, mam, his uncles, and his other set of grandparents. He’s never even met them, but that boy knows every single thing about them. He knows their likes and dislikes. Their mannerisms.

  For someone so young, he’s incredibly smart. And until he can hold his own against both sides of the family, I’ll continue keeping him my little secret. I couldn’t care less if that makes me out to be a callous bitch with a frigid heart. I know what can happen to kids when they’re introduced to money, power, and influence. They change. They become someone you no longer recognize, and I want Drake to stay innocent for as long as possible.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do when the time comes that I can’t keep him a secret anymore. I always tell him whenever we broach that subject it could be his decision, but I get the last say in the matter. He’s been asking about them more frequently, so I’m waiting until the day he makes his demands. The day he’s going to say he’s had enough and wants to see his family. I just hope it’s not today.

  “Mom, are you sure I can’t come down there? I promise I’ll be good.”

  Sniffling, I respond, my heart breaking. “Honey, it’s not about you not being good. Remember what we talked about? If Daddy’s family found out about you, they could take you away from Mommy.” There’s no doubt about it. They would then use him against my family. At least, Declan’s mother would.

  “Mom, no, they wouldn’t. You just think they would.” Sometimes he’s too smart for his own good, but now is not one of those times.

  “Baby, what if they do?”

  “They won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask.

  “Because Daddy wouldn’t do that! I’ve never met him, but I know he wouldn’t!” he screams into the phone, causing tears to fall from my eyes.

  “Sweetie, I know your daddy wouldn’t, and that’s not who I’m worried about. I’m worried about you.”

  “I can take care of myself, Mom.” Please, don’t do this to me.

  “I know you can, sweetie.”

  A few seconds of silence extend between us, and if I didn’t hear him sniffling over the receiver, I would think he hung up. It’s not until he says those next words that I feel my world starting to fall down around me.

  “You said it could be my choice.” Please, please don’t do this to me! “I choose now. I want to come down. I miss you.”

  “I-I can’t,” I whisper, sobbing. “I can’t risk it.”

  “Mom, please.”

  I can hear him crying through the receiver, and I want nothing more than to reach through the phone and console him. It always tears at my heartstrings to hear my baby boy in pain, and right now, it’s ripping me apart knowing I’m the reason for it. I wish I could get over my fears. I wish I could be strong enough to let my family know about him, but I’m not. I’m a hopeless coward who doesn’t want to lose her son. He’s the only thing I have in this world who loves me unconditionally and would never leave my side.

  “Shh,” I whisper soothingly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I think about my next words.

  “Mom,” he whispers, voice quivering. “It’s time. I want to know my family.”

  “W-What if I …” Goddammit, I can’t even bring myself to say it. What if it all backfires on me and I lose him?

  “What if you what, Mommy?” he asks, sniffling.

  “Would it … would it be enough if we started slow? Just tell one person at a time?” I already know my family is going to alienate me. They’re going to be pissed beyond all compare. They probably won’t ever want to speak to me again, and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about it. They will have every right to despise me.

  “Really?” he asks, sniffling again. It squeezes my heart painfully hearing the hope lilting his voice. “You will?”

  “Yes, baby,” I choke up. “I will.” I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. He’s not supposed to want this right now; he’s supposed to wait until he’s closer to legal age, eight or nine years away—not now. I can’t … I can’t do this. I’ll lose everything.

  “Good.”

  “Can we start off easy, slugger?”

  This is not going to end well; I may as well start digging my grave now. Litigation is going to cost an arm and a leg for me to fight Declan in court, making sure he doesn’t take Drake away from me permanently. And when he finds out he has a son, my family—most importantly—my brother will find out that Declan and I were together before he left for California. He’s going to go ballistic!

  Also, I know just as soon as one person finds out, they’re all going to find out, then I’ll have a riot on my hands. No one will be on my side, and I can’t blame anyone but myself. It’s going to be a witch hunt, but there’s no way I can tell Drake that. He thinks the world of them, even though they don’t know he exists.

  I feel my chest starting to cave in on itself. My fears have become a reality, and it’s far too soon. What the hell am I going to do? Goddammit, I never should have kept Drake a secret. No one is going to understand I was doing it for him, to protect him. They’re all going to see me as selfish, uncaring—a total and complete frigid bitch.

  “Yeah. Start with Daddy.”

  What?!

  Chapter Ten

  Declan

  Rubbing my tired eyes, I flip through the sheets in front of me once more. I’ve been at this for hours, working double time trying figure out where this asshole ran off to. He’s got a rap sheet the size of Texas, and with the charges under his belt, you’d think someone would have spotted him.

  Why do I get all these people? The kind of bastards that think I’ll never find them and put the fear of God in them. The ones that think they can skirt by, not paying me back, and still expect to keep their damn legs come tomorrow. These are the kinds of assholes that don’t understand they need to stay out of trouble if they want to make it in my world. And they really shouldn�
��t piss me off if they want to live to see tomorrow.

  “Fuck. This is going to take forever.”

  I didn’t expect anyone to answer me, but the breath races from my lungs with a hiss when someone actually does. It also scares a little bit of piss out of me too, but we’ll keep that between you and me.

  “I don’t get why you work so hard.”

  “Derrick, you’re supposed to be shaking the walls with your fiancée right now.”

  “We did that earlier. She fell asleep right after, and I was bored, so I came to get into a little trouble.” The sound of his voice makes my lips turn up at the sides into a full-blown shit-eating grin.

  Leaning back in my chair, I twist around, eyeing the bottle of Captain Morgan in his hand. Shit is about to get fucked up tonight. He knows my tolerance with Captain Morgan is shit, and I do some pretty stupid shit when I’m under that pirate’s influence.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Chuckling, he walks farther into the room, unscrewing the lid. Throwing it back, he chugs a good three or four shots before he’s finished.

  Oh, yes. We’re about to get royally fucked up.

  “I don’t know,” he says, chortling. “But it’s going to be awesome.”

  ***

  Tiptoeing through the house, I have to wrap my shirt around my face to keep from waking the whole house up from our laughter. I’ve downed about a quarter—or was it half?—of the bottle of Morgan and I’m feeling pretty damn good. Maybe seeing double of a few things, but other than that, I’m pretty balanced on my feet.

  “We ain’t fuckin’ nothin’ up, brah,” I say, breaking out into a fit of the girliest giggles I’ve ever heard in my life.

  “Bro …” he volleys, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, bringing his lips to my ear. “Browski. I think I’m too fucked up to fuck up.”