Unraveled (Undisputed Book 2)

by A. S. Teague

  I nod at the sadness of it all. Having spent the last six months also considering that it a luxury to have the money for a boxed meal, I know just how those boys feel. But to grow up that way is something I can’t fathom.

  When I started working here, I lamented the fact that I had to work with the kids. I didn’t have much experience with children, and I was pretty sure it would be a special form of torture. But these kids are different. They love learning the moves, and I can tell they take the training seriously. They remind me a lot of myself.

  She shakes her head. “Anyway, I just really want it to be special. I want to celebrate each one of them. They’re such good kids. They have talent. I don’t want it to be wasted. I’m hoping that some of them will find ways to keep coming here instead of falling in with the bad kids at school.” The corners of her lips turn up, and she finishes, “So, yeah, I probably went a little overboard. But I don’t care. They deserve it.”

  I roam my gaze over Rebecca’s body. She’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a top that hugs her curves in all the right places today, and she looks sexy as fuck.

  But the way she cares about these kids and the passion in her face when she talks about them make her sexier than any outfit ever could. She could be wearing a potato sack right now and I’d still be turned on from listening to the compassion pouring out of her.

  My chest puffs up when I think about the fact that this amazing woman is mine.

  You lucked up, Ryk.

  I come around the desk and squat in front of her, grabbing the arms of her office chair to steady her in front of me. “Those kids are so fucking lucky that you care about them.”

  I am, too, for that matter.

  “You are incredible,” I tell her, “and if it weren’t just a few minutes before this gym opens, I would take you on your desk right now.”

  Her nostrils flare, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, causing my already-hard dick to strain even harder against the fabric of my gym shorts.

  She sits forward and cups my cock, whispering in my ear, “I hope that he can wait till tonight. If so, I’ll take you on my desk.” She nips my earlobe and leans away, a devilish grin playing on her lips.

  “Jesus, you two! When’s the honeymoon phase supposed to end?” Tripp booms as he strides through the door.

  I wink at Rebecca and then stand. “Don’t hate just because your girl doesn’t grab your junk anymore,” I retort, adjusting my pants.

  Tripp sticks his middle finger up at me and grins. “Breccan is going to shit when he walks into this mess, Mouse.”

  I look over just in time to see Rebecca lift her shoulders and tell her brother, “He’ll get over it.”

  “You didn’t run all of this past Brec?” I ask her incredulously.

  She shrugs innocently.

  I let out a groan. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m an accessory. Great. Remind me to never stop by a gas station with you. I’ll end up doing twenty-five-to-life.”

  Rebecca imitates her brother and gives me the finger before turning to her computer and starting it up.

  I’m walking to the locker room to finish getting ready for the day when Breccan comes through the door.

  “What the fuck, Reb?” he booms.

  I stop walking, but once I hear Rebecca fire back, “Don’t start with me, Breccan!” I keep going, positive that my girl can hold her own—and probably mine, too.

  ***

  It’s midmorning and I’m in the middle of being submitted by an eight-year-old when I hear Rebecca call my name from her desk.

  “Ryker, it’s Gram,” she calls across the gym, holding the phone out.

  “Can you take a message?” I shout back.

  She nods and puts the receiver back to her ear. After a moment, she calls me again. “Hey, Ryk, you need to come get this.”

  Fear snakes its way into the pit of my belly, so I tap out, causing the boys to cheer in victory. I tell the boys to take a water break and then trot over to the desk.

  She has her hand over the mouthpiece as she attempts to calm me. “Gram’s okay.”

  Relief washes over me, but the fear is instantly replaced by embarrassment.

  “She says the power and water were both shut off this morning?”

  Son of a fuck. I take the phone from her hand and place it to my ear. “Gram?”

  Her voice comes across the line. “Barney. The power and water’s off. I called them both and they say you haven’t paid the bill this month?”

  I rub the back of my neck and tell her, “That can’t be right. Let me call them. You got the numbers?”

  Her voice is stern when she replies, “Barnabus, don’t you lie to me, son.”

  I lift my gaze and see Rebecca studying me intently, worry lining her face. I offer a weak smile that I know couldn’t convince a blind person that everything is okay and turn away from her.

  Dropping my voice, I tell Gram, “Okay. They’re right. I haven’t paid the bills.”

  “And why not?” she asks.

  “Can we, uh, can we talk about this later?” I plead.

  “Absolutely not. You’ll tell me right now why I’m sitting here staring at my cold kettle, wishing I could turn it on and make myself some tea.”

  Sighing, I turn back and see Rebecca quickly glance away and pretend to be busy shuffling papers around her desk.

  Covering the phone, I murmur, “You mind giving me a second?”

  She hesitates and then agrees, telling me, “Yeah. I’ve gotta go check on the kids anyway.”

  As she shuffles away, I sigh. Then I drop into her chair and put the phone back to my ear. “Money’s been tight lately.”

  She mm-hmms across the line.

  “I’ve been meaning to pay it. I’m just waiting on payday. It’s this Friday.”

  Gram’s silent on the other end, and I feel just like I did as a child while waiting on her to dole out my punishment. It doesn’t matter that I’m an adult; her silence still strikes fear in me.

  She finally speaks again, her voice surprisingly soft. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you wanting to impress Rebecca, would it?”

  “No, of course not!” I lie.

  It has everything to do with that. I knew when I skipped paying the bill to take Rebecca out that I was running the risk of having everything shut off. But my pride refused to let me tell her the truth of my circumstances.

  “You’re lying,” Gram says sharply, and even though she’s not physically standing in front of me, I know she’s wagging her finger at me.

  My shoulders involuntarily slump, and I look at the floor. “You’re right,” I confess. “I’ll get it taken care of. Today. You need me to come get you?” I don’t like the thought of her sitting in that gloomy apartment without any air.

  She pooh-poohs me and says, “I’ll be fine. I’ve got some knitting I need to catch up on anyway.”

  Hesitantly, I tell her, “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be okay. Promise to call if you get too hot?”

  “I’ll be all right. But, Barney?”

  ‘Yeah?”

  “Rebecca’s a good one. She’ll understand, son. You need to tell her the truth. About everything.” She stresses the last word, and my stomach sinks. “And, if she’s got a problem with any of it, then she isn’t the one for you.”

  Gram’s never steered me wrong before, but I’m afraid this may be the one time she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I opt not to tell her that, knowing it’ll only start another disagreement I’ll probably lose.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell her softly.

  Just as I’m hanging up, she whispers, “She’s the one, Barnabus. She’s the one.”

  I don’t have a chance to argue before the line goes dead.

  I’m not ready to lay everything out for Rebecca. The last year and a half has been a lesson in swallowing my pride, but if I tell her the truth about my fall from grace and she rejects me, I won’t be able to pick myself back up.


  Setting the phone back in its cradle, I square my shoulders and call out, “Hey, Tripp. You got a second?”

  He’s been running on the treadmill for the last twenty minutes and is dripping in sweat. He shuts the machine off and jumps down, mopping his face with a towel. Breathing heavily, he nods and says, “Yeah, man. What’s up?”

  I glance over to where Rebecca’s standing with the kids and see her looking at me, the pity on her face plain as day. Cursing, I shove a hand through my hair and remind myself that Gram’s more important than my ego.

  “You think we can take it to your office?” I shout back, still staring at Rebecca.

  Her face falls, and the disappointment stabs me in the heart. I push the feeling aside and turn back to Tripp.

  He’s looking back and forth between us, but he finally stops and lifts his chin. “Sure, man.”

  I follow him, passing Rebecca on the way. She grabs my arm, but I shake it off, not sparing her a glance.

  The pity written all over her face is something I don’t want or need from her.

  She calls after me, but I don’t answer. Once inside Tripp’s office, I slam the door behind me, shutting her out, and drowning out her voice.

  Tripp’s brow creases as he asks, “Everything all right, man?”

  Blowing out a breath, I straighten my spine and swallow my pride. “Yeah. Sorta. I need an advance on my check.”

  He replies almost immediately. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  My stomach’s been in knots, but it eases enough to allow me to ask for one last favor. “You mind keeping this between us?”

  He doesn’t say anything, but he gives me a quick nod. Then he sits behind his desk and begins typing away at his keyboard. A few moments later, he pulls out a company checkbook.

  I lean against the door, my mind racing, trying to come up with something to tell Rebecca.

  While he was whispering on the phone to Gram, I tried to hear what he was saying, but even with all the straining I did, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  I’d once taken an American sign language class in college, and they’d attempted to teach us to read lips. I’d failed that class miserably; my lip-reading ability was nonexistent. Even so, I still watched the way Ryker’s moved and tried making out what he was saying. When I thought he’d said that his cow was in the loo, I gave up.

  I’ve been suspicious for a while that something is going on with him.

  At first, I thought maybe Gram was sick and that’s why he seems preoccupied when we are alone together. But I saw her just a week ago and she was perfectly fine.

  It is also strange that he’s refused to take me to his house, always making up excuses as to why I can’t come over. They’ve gotten less and less plausible as time has gone on, and the wilder his excuses get, the crazier my assumptions become. I have almost convinced myself that he has a secret family.

  But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside, knowing there was no way Gram would keep a secret like that for him. Not to mention I am sure a wife would call or text him occasionally, and he has no problem leaving his ancient cell phone just lying around wherever. I’ve even gone so far as to snoop through it, much to my shame, and didn’t find anything incriminating.

  So, when Gram called just now and said that the power and water had been shut off, a light bulb finally went off in my head as it occurred to me what Ryker has been keeping from me.

  Guilt washes over me when I think about all the times I asked him to take me out somewhere fancy or guilted him into springing for lunch.

  My stomach begins to ache as I sit at my desk, chewing on a fingernail, as I stare at Tripp’s office door. After a full ten minutes, Ryker finally emerges.

  I jump out of my chair and race over to him. “Ryker, we need to talk.”

  He shakes his head and gruffly tells me, “Can’t talk right now. Gotta take the rest of the day off and run some errands.” He brushes past me, not even looking at me. With long strides, he exits the gym.

  I stand in the doorway, dumbfounded. The longer I stand rooted in place, the more the guilt I’m feeling morphs into anger. When Ryker’s car roars past the windows, I turn and march into Tripp’s office, slamming the door behind me.

  His head pops up at my intrusion, surprise etched in his face.

  I slam my hands on his desk and lean forward. “What did he want?” I demand.

  He sits back in his chair and puts his hands up in surrender. “Come on, Reb.”

  I wait for him to say something else, and when he doesn’t, I growl, “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you what he said.”

  Irritated, I stand upright and begin pacing back and forth in front of his desk. I bump into one of the two chairs across from it, and angrily, I kick it.

  I forgot that I’m wearing ballet flats, so pain shoots up my big toe when it makes contact with the leg of the chair. “Ow, fuck!” Angered by the pain in my foot, I shove the chair, causing it to topple backward. It makes a loud boom when it finally comes to rest on the floor.

  Tripp doesn’t move, but he asks dryly, “Feel better now? What did that chair ever do to you?”

  Whipping my head back at him, I snap, “Shut up, Tripp.”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re the one who barged in here and then proceeded to assault my office furniture.”

  Flopping into the upright chair, I concede. “You’re right.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit. I’m never right with you.”

  I decide to plead. “Just tell me what he needed.”

  Tripp shakes his head again.

  “You’re my brother. Not his. You shouldn’t be keeping his secrets from me! Gah, do you have no moral code?”

  He barks out a laugh. “That’s exactly why I can’t tell you what he wanted. Bro-code.”

  “Bro-code? Jesus, what the fuck even is that?” I grumble.

  “It’s when one guy keeps another guy’s secrets and protects his manhood. Bro-code.”

  “Fuck that. What about sister-code?”

  “There’s no such thing as sister-code, Reb,” he states matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, there is now. I’m instituting it right now.” I lean forward in my chair, grabbing the edge of his desk. “And, since you’re my brother, you are bound by the sister-code to tell me what the fuck is going on with my boyfriend.”

  Tripp just sits in his chair and stares at me, an amused look on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so I’m forced to finally give up.

  Frustrated, I stand. “Argh. You suck, you know that, Tripp?”

  A smirk crosses his face, and he agrees with me. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Mouse. Bro-code trumps your made-up sister-code. You wanna know what’s going on with your man? Go ask him.”

  Childishly, I stomp my foot before spinning on my heel.

  Behind me, he calls, “You wanna pick that chair up on your way out?”

  Not bothering to acknowledge that I heard him, I slam the door on my way out.

  Unable to leave the gym, I spend the rest of the morning trying to distract myself and throw myself into the boys’ final training session. Tripp takes over for Ryker and spends a few hours getting beaten up by the kids.

  Even though it’s immature of me, I secretly enjoy watching them beat on my brother. Tripp’s always been my best friend and closest confidante. But, with us being close, he also knows all the tricks to get under my skin––and finds great pleasure in riling me up.

  No matter the fact that I know he pushes my buttons on purpose, I still can’t stop my inner tantrum-throwing five-year-old from coming out when he starts.

  When lunchtime rolls around, I get the kids settled with their pizza and then excuse myself, leaving one of the other trainers in charge. I grab my phone from my desk and sneak out the back door, dialing Ryker’s number as I shut the door behind me.

  When he doesn’t answer, I type out a message, asking him to call me right away.


  A few minutes pass, and I find myself walking in circles behind the building, an imaginary fight brewing in my head. My phone chimes with a message.

  Ryker: Tied up. Call you tonight.

  I let out a frustrated growl.

  Deciding that he’s given me no other option, I type a number and then place the phone to my ear.

  After a few rings, the call connects.

  “Hello? Gram?”

  The door swings open, causing our conversation to stop. I peer up from my position on the ratty couch I’m perched on and watch as all of the color drains from Ryker’s face. My stomach flips, but I keep my face emotionless.

  For several tense moments, no one speaks or moves. Instead, we just stare at each other, the sound of the grandfather clock the only noise in the room.

  Finally, he steps inside and quietly closes the door behind him.

  Gram removes the afghan from her lap and slowly pushes to her feet, the ratty recliner she is sitting in rocking back and forth. She shuffles over to Ryker, who has a blank look on his face, and pats his cheek with her arthritic hand. He leans his cheek into her hand, his eyes briefly closing.

  She steps back, turns toward where I’m perched, and smiles warmly. “Thank you for the tea and conversation, dear. I’m getting tired. Think I’ll go lie down for a bit.” With her back to Ryker, she winks at me, which causes me to smile broadly.

  “I loved hearing stories about Ryker as a child,” I reply. “Have a good rest.” I lift my hand in a little wave, and she shuffles away.

  Once the door clicks shut, I turn my head back to where Ryker’s been frozen in place. His arms hold a paper grocery bag, and at the sound of the door closing, he snaps back to reality and walks past me without a word.

  Shit.

  When he turns the corner, I can hear him slam the bag on the counter, and it causes me to jump. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in and count to ten, steeling myself for what I know will be an unpleasant conversation.

  When I’d called Gram asking for her address, I’d nearly lost my mind when she gave me directions to the shittiest apartment complex in town. On the drive over, I convinced myself that I was overreacting, but the moment I walked into the apartment Ryker and his grandmother have been living in for the last three months, my heart sank.