It was true, I did want to stay in the house. It was huge. My mom and Don's relationship might be a little bit weird, but I was sure that middle-aged adults were quieter and less disruptive than my current twenty-something roommates who had managed to get through medical school while still partying on a weekly basis. Plus, I was sure that the accommodations were nicer than mine. And, you know, free food.
"It's settled then!" my mother said, clapping her hands together giddily. "Then you'll be able to help me plan the wedding!"
Oh great. There was the catch.
"Sure, Mom. When is the wedding, anyway? Next year?”
"We're going to be married in a month," my mother said. If I’d had food in my mouth, I would've spit it out.
"One month? You've got to be kidding me." My mother's face fell. "It's just so soon," I said.
"I know, honey. I know it's hard to understand. It's okay if you feel shocked.”
"It is a little shocking."
"Let me show you your bedroom," my mom said, rising from the table.
"Okay." I followed my mom down a hallway to another wing of the house. She opened a door, and we walked into a room that was twice the size of my room at my rental house. It had double doors that opened out to a patio overlooking the ocean. I walked into the room and sat on the big king-size bed. It was more comfortable than any bed I'd ever felt.
There was a big dresser in the corner and a walk-in closet through one door. Through another door was a bathroom outfitted in marble tile and granite counters. I walked over to the bathroom and looked inside. I could see a standup shower and a deep Jacuzzi tub. The window looked out on the ocean as well, and part of me was so stunned at the accommodations that I could barely speak. The fact that my mom was marrying someone she barely knew stopped mattering for just a moment as I considered the luxurious lifestyle I was being invited into.
"This is too much," I said
"Nonsense," my mom said. “Don wants to help us. He wants to help you.”
"Mom, are you sure this is a good idea? You've only known this guy for a few months. I know he seems really nice and good-looking, and he's definitely loaded, that's for sure, but do you think it's wise to jump into a marriage when you barely know him?" I said. My mother's face dropped and she sat on the bed. I sat beside her in silence for a moment, then she turned to me, the smile back on her face.
"I know this is hard to understand, Harper. But from the first moment I met Don, I just knew. I knew he was the one. It was like — I know this is going sound funny, but it was like all the stars aligned and suddenly the man I'd been searching for all my life was right there in front of me. We were so different, but at the same time, we complement each other. I hope you can understand."
"I'm trying to, Mom. I don't want to be a judgmental bitch. You're my mom and I love you. I want what's best for you. I want you to be happy. Without question. But you worry about me, and I'm an adult now, so I worry about you too." My mom smiled at me sweetly and patted my hand.
"Thank you, sweetheart," she said. "I always tell everyone I have the best daughter."
"Thanks, Mom. And to be honest, what little I've seen of Don, it seems like he's a great guy. I'm really happy for both of you," I said. My mom leaned over and embraced me, and we gave each other a warm hug.
I wanted to support her in whatever made her happy. Seeing my mom find the love of her life after I just had such a difficult breakup with Jeremy, and the one night I spent with Crash, made me a little bit jealous to be honest. But it's super crappy to be jealous of your mom's happiness. So I just tried to push that feeling away.
Chapter Eight
I was going through the last box of things in my mother's house, making sure there wasn’t any heirloom jewelry or other precious artifacts of my mother's life inside. There were baby pictures of me at the bottom. It was hard to believe that I’d ever been so cute and small.
I was partially tempted to throw them away, but I packed them up with the rest of the photographs, knowing that it was what my mother would've wanted. I dug deeper into the box, finding baby shoes and tiny articles of clothing that must have belonged to me when I was little. I set them aside as well.
At the very bottom of the box was an old, yellowing envelope with a name and address on the front. The name was Donald Porter with an address in Malibu. Why would my mom have an old letter addressed to someone in Malibu? It wasn't sealed, so I opened it up and pulled out the letter inside.
It read:
Dear Don,
It has been over a year since I left your service. Things ended poorly between us. I know that you are going to marry that woman, and I wish you the best of luck in your life. I can't hold any grudges against you for your choices. Believe me, I understand. You and I are from different worlds. It never would have worked out, no matter how much we loved each other. Or how much I love you. But I thought you should know I've had your son. He looks just like you, my beautiful boy. I've named Andrew after your father. I hope that someday you will claim him as your own and give him the life I cannot.
Yours truly,
Jessica Nolan
I sat in the dim light of my mother's bedroom staring at the yellowed, crinkled paper. I couldn't believe what I was reading. This Don Porter guy was my father. She'd never told me. And she'd obviously never sent the letter. Thoughts raced through my mind. He never knew about me. He and my mother had once been lovers. She had obviously loved him very much.
Had he rejected her for some rich bitch from his own social class? How dare he leave my mother like that? Pregnant, broke, and alone. It didn't matter that he didn't know about the baby— me.
What kind of asshat rejects a woman like my mother just because she has a little bit less money and less social connections and all the bullshit the rich seem to idealize? My mother was the best woman on the planet. If this Don fellow couldn't see that, fuck him.
Rage boiled in my gut. I hadn't had a fight in weeks and I'd been drinking the whole time I cleared my mother's house out. My mind was a blur of emotion and pain. I wanted to punch something. What I wanted to punch more than anything was this asshole named Don Porter.
He deserved a piece of my mind. He deserved to know what he’d done to a wonderful woman like my mother. And I intended to make him pay for what he’d done.
I went out to the garage and opened the door to reveal my classic Indian motorcycle. I'd found it cheap while I was still in high school and had restored it with my own two hands over the years. While I'd been away, my mom had stored it for me. It was still in perfect condition. I knew that she had been struggling. She could've sold the bike at any time to pay her bills. But she never had.
That was the kind of woman this Don guy had rejected and left alone to raise a baby by herself on the mean streets of Los Angeles.
I climbed on my bike and turned the key. It rumbled to life, and I backed it out of the garage and onto the street. I clicked the garage door opener, and the door slid closed, bumping along on its rusty chain. A moment later, I was driving down the street. I pulled out onto the highway towards Malibu, revving my engine with all the hate and rage that swirled inside of me.
This Don guy was in for a world of hurt if he thought he could use people and get away with it. I was the son he never knew, and I was going to make him regret it. I didn't give a shit whether or not I’d had him as a father. That didn't matter to me. What mattered was my mother's heart.
Any man who would hurt a sweet, sensitive woman like Jessica Nolan deserved the full impact of Crash right in the fucking face.
It took an hour and a half to get from East LA to Malibu. By the time I got there, my anger was like an inflated balloon, ready to burst. I followed the street to the address on the envelope and drove down the driveway that led to the biggest motherfucking mansion I had ever seen.
Somebody with this much land in this zip code must be fucking loaded. The fact that I'd spent my entire life wearing secondhand shoes and pants that were too short
just made all the contempt inside me boil even hotter.
He could have helped her, no problem. The amount of money that could have changed our lives forever would have been a drop in the bucket for this asshole.
I parked my bike in front of the house and climbed off. A concerned looking maid hurried out of the house and asked me what I was doing there.
"I'm here to see Don Porter," I said to the woman. She took a step backward, fear evident in her eyes. I felt bad for a minute.
I'd grown up around housemaids. My mom had been a housemaid all my life. It wasn't her fault her employer was a dickhead.
"Mr. Porter is busy, sir.”
"Tell him it’s important,” I said, flexing my arms.
"Sir, just wait right here. I will get Mr. Porter for you.”
She hurried through the front door, expecting me to wait in the driveway. I followed her inside and could hear noise from the back of the house. A moment later, a tall, light haired man with eyes the color of mine and a face that could've easily been me in thirty years stared at me with confusion and irritation. I took a step forward, ready to swing.
"What is this all about, young man?" he asked. I'd expected his tone to be pissed off, but it wasn't. He sounded more concerned than angry. That settled me down. A little bit.
"You know a woman named Jessica Nolan?" I growled.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a long time. Of course I remember Jessica," he said, his tone regretful. "How is she?"
"She's dead."
His face fell. He lifted his hand to his temple and rubbed, looking genuinely upset.
"I'm Jessica's son. When I was cleaning out her boxes, I found this letter,” I said, shoving the letter in his face.
Don took the letter and sank into a chair, reading it carefully. His brows were knit together in confusion and concern.
"She never sent the letter," he said sadly. "Why didn't she send the letter?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?"
"I don't understand. It's true Jessica and I were lovers. It was a tumultuous affair. And I made mistakes. I was a different man when I was younger. I was concerned about different things than I am now. And, I admit, I hurt her. I married another woman and it turned out badly. All she’d wanted was my money. I lost millions in the divorce. If I had stood by Jessica, I believe we would have been together all this time."
"Am I supposed to feel bad for you right now?”
Don stood and walked toward me as if he was going to embrace me. I took a step back. I didn't want any of that. I just met this guy. He definitely wasn't going to be having any father-son moments with me.
"I believe that you are my son," Don said, respecting my space. He stood still several feet from me, glancing down at the letter again.
"Jessica was a good woman. If she believed I was the father, I believe it too."
"I came here to kick your ass," I said.
"I don't blame you. I would have felt the same when I was your age," Don said.
He was making it really damn hard to stay mad at him. That pissed me off even more.
"Don't you want to know for sure?" I asked.
"Well, of course. We should get some kind of DNA test, as a technicality. But your mother's word is good enough for me. I just wish she had told me. I have so much to make up for, son."
"Hold up there, buddy. Don't be calling me son yet," I said.
"Of course. Let's go to the hospital. My soon-to-be stepdaughter is a resident physician at Santa Monica General. She can help expedite a DNA test. After that, we can figure out what to do from there."
"All right then," I said.
I still wanted to punch the guy, but he was being so decent about everything. I guess the only thing that was left to do was go to the hospital and get the DNA test.
I didn't really know what else I wanted from him except to punch him in the face. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I looked around his place. All of a sudden, I had a possible father who was some kind of fucking billionaire. That came out of left field.
I would have been happy to live my life fighting, fucking, and drinking. At the end of the day, that's all that I ever really wanted. Now I was standing in the lap of luxury with a man who was calling me son. I didn't really know what to think of any of it.
What I should have done was just get the fuck out of there. I didn’t know this guy. He didn't know me. I didn't know if I wanted him to be any part of my life. But I knew at the back of my mind that my mom would want me to go get the test. She'd want me to know my father now that we were standing face-to-face.
I didn't really understand why she never told the guy about me. Maybe she’d just been hurt that he had rejected her. My mom was a sensitive woman. She could only take so much bullshit before she ran and hid.
I was thinking that was probably the reason she'd never told either of us. I didn't blame her. She'd been way too good a mom all those years, all by herself, to ever blame her for anything.
I honored her decisions to the end. But now, I felt her sitting on my shoulder telling me, “Crash, you go with your father and find out for sure. This is a missing part of your life. Maybe it will fill that empty hole inside you that you're always trying to fill with your fights and your booze and your women.”
"All right, fine, let's do this.”
"We can drive down there in my Ferrari," he said, smiling at me for the first time.
He gave me a gleaming white grin that reminded me of myself. He thought the Ferrari would impress me. Well, maybe it would. We went outside and walked down the line of sports cars, Humvees, and motorcycles under an overhang that allowed for his collection to be showed off.
He opened the front door of the Ferrari and stood there looking at me with a grin on his face. All of a sudden, he threw the keys to me, and I caught them.
"You drive, son," he said.
"I told you man, don't call me son," I said, stepping towards the driver’s seat of the Ferrari. Don must have really loved my mom to believe her word about my paternity so unconditionally.
"All right, we’ll give it time."
He went around the passenger’s side, and we both buckled up. I slid the key into the ignition and turned over the motor. She purred like a baby. I wanted to slam this bitch into action.
I peeled out of his driveway, ripped around the turn, and sped up the driveway to the road. Don was looking over at me like he was some kind of proud daddy at his son's first football game or some shit.
He started giving me directions to the hospital, and I followed them all the way there. I sped into the parking lot, screeched into a spot, and shut off the motor. Damn. That was fucking awesome. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.
"Did you like it?" he said knowingly. Of course I fucking liked it.
"It was okay," I said.
I followed him through the parking lot and into the front door of the hospital. The smell of antiseptic cleaners hit my nose, and I instantly wanted to escape. It just reminded me of what my mother had just been through.
"This way," he grunted, waving me down a hallway.
I followed him to a nurses’ station. The nurse looked up at him and smiled.
"I'm looking for a resident physician here named Harper Kelly."
As soon as I heard her name, I nearly had a heart attack. It must have just been a coincidence. How could the man I just learned was my father also be the soon-to-be stepdad of the woman who'd rocked my world so hard I couldn’t get her out of my mind?
"Harper is on a break right now," the nurse said. "She's in the locker room. I can page her if you want."
"That’d be great," Don said.
We waited at the nurses’ station for several moments. I stared at the wall, my heart pounding. What if it really was her? What would I say? What would I do?
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flash of a white coat enter my vision. I turned to see her standing there in the hallway. Her face was as surprised as I felt. Neither of us
said a word. We just stared at each other for a long time until Don finally started talking.
"Harper," Don said. "I want you to meet my son."
"Possible son," I corrected.
Harper just stood there with her mouth open, gaping at me. She looked from me to Don and back again.
"Andrew, this is my stepdaughter, Harper."
"Soon-to-be stepdaughter," Harper corrected.
I was having trouble gathering my senses. I didn't know if I should run away or grab her in my arms.
"I didn't know you had a son,” Harper said.
"Neither did I, until today," Don said, beaming. "That's why we came down here. We need a DNA test to confirm that Andrew really is my son."
"Andrew?" she said, raising her eyebrow at me.
"So, my name is Andrew. What of it?" I snapped. She looked at me with a hurt expression, and I instantly felt like an ass for talking to her like that.
"I can take the samples for you. I'll have to check if I can run the tests in the lab. If the equipment is free, I can get the results back in a few minutes."
"That sounds great," Don said.
"The sooner the better,” I agreed.
Harper led us into a small exam room. She asked us to sit down on the two empty chairs. Even with her back turned, I could tell that her hands were shaking. She opened a drawer and pulled out two long swabs. She labeled them both and then handed one to me and one to Don.
"Just rub these on the insides of your cheeks," she said.
Don and I did as she instructed. Then she took the swabs and put them both in individual sealed containers. At that moment, I wasn't sure if I wanted to find my long-lost daddy or if I wanted this all to be a big mistake.
If Don was really my father, that meant that Harper was about to become my stepsister. I knew that I had to be with her again. The time that we spent together in Brazil had been too intense and mind blowing to ignore. But if she was my stepsister, it would be too fucking complicated.
"I'll get these over to the lab and get the results as soon as possible," she said, her voice trembling.
Crash: A Bad Boy MMA Romance Page 5
