by S. L. Scott
I stand there analyzing his features, the same blue eyes as me; a slightly crooked nose that looks to be carved from a fight—nothing like mine. His hair is sandy blond, like my mom used to call mine.
As much as I want to deny this crazy allegation, I can’t ignore the similarities. It doesn’t mean anything, though. My hair color is common. That doesn’t prove jack shit.
Talking to Rivers, he says, “You don’t want to admit it. I get that. This will take time.”
Jet walks up behind him. “What’s going on?”
The Berk guy replies, “Wow. Looking at you is like looking at Shep back in the day when we were raising hell.”
Like a current’s run up his spine, Jet bristles and tenses. “What did you just say?”
Rivers thumbs Berk’s way. “This guy is claiming to be our father’s best friend.”
Berk says, “Your dad was—”
Rivers corrects him, “He wasn’t a dad to us. But if you were his best friend, you’d know that.”
“I was his best friend. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in many years.” Glancing at me, he adds, “Since he came along with his yellow hair and blue eyes.”
Jet asks, “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Berk Cartwright. I’m Tulsa’s dad.”
“Not my dad,” I say. “And Shep may have been our father, but he was no dad either.”
That seems to entertain him because he laughs. “Father or dad. Whatever it is you want to call it, I don’t care. But I can tell you when Louisa handed me my baby, she called me the dad.”
“Bullshit.” I can tell Jet’s close to shoving this yahoo. We don’t allow people to talk about our dad, but we really don’t allow people to discuss our mom.
Stepping forward, I warn, “Do not speak her name.”
His hands go up as he steps back on the sidewalk that leads to our apartment. “I’m not here for trouble. I can see you’re all pretty high strung like Shep. Must be a learned trait when it comes to you, Tulsa.” He pulls out a business card and a photo from his shirt pocket and hands it to me. “Saw you online, took a chance, and came out here to see you. Maybe we can meet later, have a beer, and I’ll tell you more. But if you need proof, that photo should do the job.”
Staring at it, my anger rises as my stomach churns. The photo—a much younger Berk, Shep, and my mom—proves they knew him, but nothing else. I refuse to believe Mom cheated on Shep. That wasn’t who she was. “This doesn’t prove you’re my dad. Why should we believe you?”
“Because you know there’s a possibility. She told me.”
Stepping forward in a rush, Rivers is in his face, towering a good few inches over him. “You’ve been warned not to talk about our mother. If you do it again, your face will meet the cement. Do you understand me, Berk?”
The way Berk’s eyes travel up and down my brothers pisses me off. “Damn. You guys remind of my youth. Shep may not have stuck around, but his hellfire genes run strong.”
Rivers pushes him, but Jet pulls him back before any harm is done. Jet says one word, in the tone that used to scare the shit out of me, for Berk to finally get the message. “Leave.”
Guess it scares him too. On the heel of his departure, he says, “You have my card with my number. Call me.”
When he walks away, Jet herds Rivers and me inside. Nikki is standing in the living room, looking lost. She says, “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” She sounds as shaken as I feel. I can see she longs to come to me, but I look away.
As much as I want to hold her, I need my brothers right now. “What the fuck?” I run my hands through my hair. “He knew their names.”
Jet, the voice of reason, comes through. “Doesn’t mean shit. Anyone can find that out online.” He sits, and asks, “What happened before I got here?”
Taking the old Polaroid from me, Rivers goes over everything again while I stew on the realization that maybe I do look like him. Do they see something I don’t? I’ve always been the lighter-haired kid to my brothers’ dark hair. Blue eyes to their brown. But my mom had green eyes and light brown hair. That’s genetics for you, though. I’m sure I had a grandpa six generations back who had my shade of blue eyes.
No one has ever questioned me being a Crow. I look like Jet. I look like Rivers. I look like my mom. Do I look like Shep?
Fuck.
The apartment has become stifling. I need fresh air. I get up and open the front door and step outside. When I look back through the open door and see my brothers, the concern on their faces is clear. One of the hardest things to work through is the thought that my mom either had an affair with Cartwright, or he’s lying. He said things got messy. But when? Before or after my father left us?
These are answers we’ll never get because the only one we trust is not alive to give them. I struggle thinking about my mom’s death. I’m good at hiding it. Usually. Thinking about all the fragments of my life she’s no longer a part of makes my chest hurt. I’d give anything to have her back, to talk to her one last time, to hug her, to tell her I love her. Anything.
“Well, shit. Do we even have pictures of our father?”
“Not many.” Jet stands and comes toward me. “C’mon. Let’s go to my house. Hannah’s planned a big meal, and I have a box of Mom’s things we can look through.” He looks at Nikki. “Would you like to come over? I know Hannah would like to see you again.”
“I’d like that,” she says so softly I barely hear her from where I’m standing. “Do you mind if I freshen up real quick?”
“Take your time. We’ll wait outside.”
My brothers come outside and shut the door behind them. We all cross our arms over our chests as if following a script. Seeing this, I shove my hands in my pockets instead.
“I can see what you’re doing,” Rivers starts. “Fuck that photo.”
“He said Mom showed me to him. He held me as a baby. What the hell, Jet?”
Jet adds, “You’re a Crow, Tulsa. Period.” The sternness of his tone gives finality to the comment, as if there’s nothing left to discuss.
Nikki opens the door. In her expression, I see compassion and love, and without even thinking about the repercussions, I start toward her. I want her touch. Her comfort. I’m drawn to her and can’t hold back.
“Tulsa,” she cautions in a whisper when I approach.
I stop, remembering the plan we put in place before my whole world got turned upside down. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
I slip the key in the lock and secure the door. I almost take hold of Nikki’s hand, but I respect her enough to talk to her before spilling our secrets.
Jet says, “I’ll drive.”
Stopping in the middle of the street, my frustration gets the better of me. “It’s my vehicle.”
Nikki stands beside me. “You’re upset. It’s probably best to let him drive.” Walking backward, she smiles. “I love this truck! It’s so you, Tulsa.” She mouths the rest just for me, “It’s so sexy.”
God, I love this woman. She’s here even though I can’t reach out and touch her or find comfort in her. Who knew an ’81 Ford Bronco would get her so damn excited. I mean, I think it’s badass, but seeing her enthusiasm for my old beater makes me smile despite the circumstances.
I hold the door open while she climbs in the back and I follow right after.
The motor hums to life, and I pat Jet’s shoulder. “Your wife took good care of my baby.”
He shakes his head. “Yes, your beat-up Bronco is fine.”
“This baby is in great condition. I’m going to make her shine after the tour.”
“Whatever, dude. Let’s get back. I want to see my fine wife.”
When we arrive at Jet’s house, Hannah and Alfie are on the front porch swing. Alfie runs to the truck and right into Jet’s arms. They already had their reunion, but you can see how much they missed each other.
I’ve never seen Nikki shy, but as she looks at the
house and my brother and nephew, taking it all in, I can tell she’s hanging back. “Come on in.”
Jet sets Alfie down. “Uncle Tulsa!” He flies into my arms, and I hug him, and then hold him high in the sky. “I can almost reach it,” he says.
“Hey, buddy. You’re missing a front tooth.”
“Pizza. I never even felt it fall out. Mom says it will come out in my poop. Ew.”
“Ew is right.” Swinging him around, I angle us toward Nikki. “Remember my friend Nikki?”
“Your gurrrlfriend.” His body shakes with laughter, so I add to it and tickle him.
“You’re a silly goose.”
When I set Alfie down, he runs to Rivers. Peeking over at Nikki, I say, “Let’s go see Hannah.” We walk up the sidewalk and onto the porch just as Jet gives Hannah a two-hand help up off the swing. It’s only been a few weeks since we’ve seen her, but the baby’s grown.
Jet kissing Hannah feels too intimate for an audience, so I turn to Nikki and nudge her when all I want to do is be able to kiss her so freely in front of everyone. I’m envious. Standing there, I begin to doubt the decision we made to keep us a secret. She whispers, “I want that.”
I spin the bill of my cap around to the back, restraining myself from holding her and promising her the world for everyone to hear. Instead, I whisper, “We’ll have it.” And we will. Very soon, because our love shouldn’t be hidden; it’s right and pure.
Rivers moves past us with Alfie in tow while Jet kneels before Hannah, kissing her belly and talking to the baby. We hear Hannah’s delight when she runs her hand over Jet’s head, and says, “The baby’s kicking.” As if she suddenly realizes we’re here, she says, “Hey, Tulsa. Nikki, it’s so good to see you again.”
Nikki comes forward, and they hug after Jet stands. Hannah rubs her stomach, and says, “She’s kicking because she hears her daddy’s voice.”
Jet rubs her stomach. “I think she’s hungry like her mom. What do you say we go inside and finish up dinner so we can eat?”
Hannah’s eyes light up. “I’m starving.” I move in quickly, before she goes inside, and hug her. “Hey, you.”
“Good to have you back, Tuls.”
“Can I rub that belly for luck?”
She laughs, and then says, “Go ahead, but do not call me Buddha.”
“I won’t.” I give her a light rub, but when the baby kicks, I tell my soon-to-be-born niece, “You’re gonna be a spitfire like your uncle.”
We go inside, but Hannah adds, “Please tell me this baby won’t be all Crow, or we’ll all be in trouble.”
It’s an innocent comment, not aimed at me. Hannah doesn’t even know about Berk Cartwright, but the rest of us do, and we go quiet, eerily silent, all at once. I don’t feel less a Crow just because some guy says I’m not one. But I hope to God I am. Tension fills this usually love-filled home, and Hannah’s eyes pivot from one person to the next, looking for answers.
Jet grabs a cutting board full of steaks and heads for the back door. “Do you mind helping me with the grill?”
Hannah is quick to grab a pair of tongs and walk to the door to open it for him. “Of course.”
Rivers and Alfie are on the couch when I look back. I can read my brothers without words. A small shrug and nod for the door from him has me asking Nikki, “Want to swing with me?”
“I’d love to swing with you. Wait . . . you mean on the front porch, right?”
Rivers and I crack up. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”
Full of attitude, she laughs at the goof. “With you, I never know.”
“Amen.” Rivers chuckles behind me.
“Whatever, dude.”
Leaning against the railing, I watch as she sits on the swing and pats the spot beside her. I go because she wants me, and as long as she wants me, I’ll do whatever she asks.
We push off with our feet and start to swing. “Tulsa, I don’t know how you’re feeling about that man, and it worries me.”
“You don’t have to worry. Everything’s going to be fine. It’ll get sorted out. Shepherd Crow is listed on my birth certificate. He’s my father. My mother would have told us otherwise.”
“Maybe she couldn’t.”
My chest feels congested. I rub the spot and sit up, hoping whatever the lump is will loosen. The problem is I know better. I know for a fact that until I have proof that the man is not my father, my chest won’t ease from the constriction I’ve felt since he showed up.
She reaches over, resting her hand on my leg. “You want to know one of the many things that attracted me to you?”
“Tell me.” Slipping my hand under hers, our fingers fold together. I don’t fucking care if anyone sees us. As far as I’m concerned, right now I’m home. Jet’s house, our apartment, it doesn’t matter. This is home. This is where I’m just one of three brothers. But I need this. I need her.
“The veins in your arms.”
“Huh?”
The tip of her finger traces a vein I always thought bulged too much. “God, you don’t know what these veins do to me.”
“I like where this is going. Give me a visual.”
“I’ve masturbated to images of the veins in your arms.”
“That’s a good visual.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her closer. “But that’s really fucking weird. You know that, right?”
“It made you smile. And if sacrificing some of my pride by telling you a secret makes you smile, I’ll do it every time.”
She did do both of those for me. “Did you use your pink toy?”
“I didn’t need to. The image was enough to do me in.”
“God, I love you.” I hear Jet inside the house again. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Let’s get some beers and go hang out. We’re not going to solve anything by talking about it anyway.” I give her a hand and pull her against me because, selfishly, I just want to. It’s been too fucking long since I had her in my arms. “I can’t wait to be alone with you tonight and to sleep in with you in the morning.” I can’t wait to hold her all night, slip inside her whenever I wake, hear her moans and sighs. Then I’ll wake her in the morning with my tongue inside her. Sorry, Nik, there won’t be much sleeping tonight.
“That sounds like a dream.” She’s my dream come true, but she’s more—so much more.
“Not a dream. This is our life together.”
When she leans her head against my chest and sighs happily, I hold her tighter, grateful that no matter what happens around us, we have each other. Who the fuck cares if Berk Cartwright is my biological father? He’s never been a part of my life, and he never will be. I have my family. I have my home. I find peace of mind in her love. One of the reasons I want her with me, always.
29
Tulsa
“Nothing.” I toss the remainder of the papers back in the box.
Jet pulls the box across the coffee table and starts digging through it. “Are you sure?”
“I just went through everything. There’s not much here.”
Rivers sets his beer down and starts searching. “There has to be more. She had a house full of stuff.”
“We cleaned out the house after she died,” Jet adds. “Most of the stuff we got rid of.”
Nikki has been sitting across the room watching for the past hour. She doesn’t look bored, but I’m sure it’s hard to sit in on a conversation you know nothing about. I don’t want her to feel excluded. “When my mom died, we stayed in the house until I graduated from high school. When you put three teenage boys in charge of cleaning out a house . . . well, a lot of stuff got thrown out. We sold most of it, needing the money.” Guilt consumes me. I was too blind for sentimentality back then, too hurt, too sad, too wild to care. Our history was probably set on the curb on trash pickup day. Guess we’ll never know.
Hannah sits next to me and props her feet up on the coffee table. “When I was cleaning out Jet’s closet for the move, I found a photo alb
um but not a box. I’m sorry. Hopefully, there’s something in there.” She tries to push herself up off the couch, but with that baby belly, she’s struggling.
“I can get it,” I offer. “Where is it?”
“Top shelf on the right side. It’s dark blue.”
Nikki stands, and says, “I’ll help you.” She follows me to the back bedroom but waits while I look in the closet. “Hannah tells me they’re moving to LA.”
Not a question, but I hear it in the uptick of her words. “With another album signed by Outlaw Records, the studio being in Ojai, and the baby on the way, she wants the family together.”
“And you?” I don’t like how softly she’s speaking, as if tiptoeing around what she really wants to know.
Leaning back, I catch sight of her near the bed, and say, “You can always ask me anything. We’re in this together now.” We haven’t talked about where we’re going to live or planned our future past Chicago. Everything has been about the here and now. What about the there and then? I grab the album from the shelf and walk back into the bedroom. “I guess that’s something we should talk about in the next few weeks.”
“Where do you want to live?” she presses, her voice stronger this time.
I feel hollow when she’s not around, homeless until I see her again. I need her to fill my soul with her sunshine. I want to bask in the warmth of her love. “If I have to choose, I choose you.”
Relief washes over her fine features. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave California.” I hadn’t thought I’d be ready to leave Austin, but I don’t care where we live as long as we’re together.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be. Once the tour’s over, and we have some time to settle into our regular lives again, we can decide. We can live anywhere we want. I just want to be together.”
“So do I.” Hurt swallows her smile.
Reaching out to touch her arm, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
Clouds take over her blue skies, and she briefly lowers her gaze. “You turned away from me earlier at your apartment. You said you needed your brothers. I get that, but you turned away from me.”
“No. I turned to my brothers. That’s not the same thing.”
