by Nikky Kaye
My chin rose, my body stiffening as though I was wearing a suit of armor.
“I’ll take care of her like she’s my own, Mr. Pennington.”
Zach
The shrill ring of my alarm clock woke me up. I groaned and rolled then fell off the tiny bed that I slept on in Dean’s guest room. At six and a half feet and 250 pounds I found most beds constraining, and this was no exception. Annoyed, I reached for my phone and sent Anderson a text order for a new bed for me, one big enough to use as a life raft.
As much as I loved my brother, I hated the fact that he had refused my offer to buy him a better—bigger—house. I’d offered it as a birthday gift or even as a thank you gift since he had practically raised me on his own, but he declined, telling me that it was only the three of them; they didn’t need a bigger space to live in.
Now it was only me and Payton, and even if the house was big enough for Dean and Maggie it sure as hell wasn’t enough for me.
I heard knocking on my door and knew it was Payton.
I opened the door and plastered with a big smile for my niece. The last thing she needed to see was how unhappy I was with the situation. I didn’t want her to think that she was a burden to me.
Technically she was, but she didn’t need to know that.
Payton smiled back at me and handed me my toothbrush. I chuckled and followed her to the main bathroom located between her room and mine.
Payton and I had developed a routine after the funeral and after I officially moved in. We’d brush our teeth together and then she’d leave so I could take a shower and then right after I was done, we’d have breakfast together. Emma would arrive at seven thirty and then Payton would take her bath with the help of her nanny.
“We don’t have milk,” Payton announced once I filled our bowls. “I don’t like dry cereal.”
While she pouted I ran a hand through my wet hair, not knowing how I was supposed to respond. What was the right parental response here—make something else? Tell her to eat it dry? I was freshly showered and hungry. Now, without milk, I was disappointed, too—but so was my snack-sized roommate.
“I’ll have Anderson go grocery shopping later.”
Payton pursed her lips but nodded, sitting on her spot at the table. She played with her breakfast as I practically shoveled mine into my mouth.
“How did you sleep?” I asked her after gulping down a glass of milk.
She looked up at me then shrugged. “The same. No nightmares.” There was relief in her big brown eyes.
Thank god.
The first night after I officially moved in, Payton woke up screaming in the middle of the night.
I didn’t like it. Her panic put me on edge and brought back a wave of bad memories that I’d buried in the back of my mind. She’d been screaming and thrashing in her bed when I found her, and I had to shake her awake and comfort her until she stopped crying and fell back asleep.
The doorbell rang and Payton squealed as she rushed to the front door to open it for Emma. The two of them waltzed back in the kitchen, hand in hand, while Payton let Emma know about the milk situation. Little snitch.
I leaned against the counter, allowing myself a moment to check out Emma. She was just too pretty to ignore.
Her worn jeans hugged her hips and thighs alluringly, and her t-shirt looked like it might have gotten shrunk in the wash, because her midriff was exposed when she leaned over to whisper something in Payton’s ear.
Not for the first time, I had to push down my attraction to her. My job was to tuck my niece into bed, not the nanny. Keep your eye on the ball, Pennington, I told myself. But my balls weren’t the only ones itching for practice time.
Emma greeted me with a smile before ushering Payton upstairs to clean up and get dressed. I watched the two of them leave, grateful for the fact that Payton liked her and that they got along well. It had only been a couple of weeks, but Emma and Payton were already thick as thieves.
I was still contemplating that tempting sliver of skin when they tromped back into the kitchen. Then I checked the time—shit!
“I’m outta here,” I announced.
Payton rushed to me and gave me a big hug.
“Will you pick me up from art class today?” she asked, her gaze hopeful.
I glanced at Emma, who turned away. This had been a regular occurrence and every time she asked, I always told her I couldn’t.
“Sorry, sweets, but you know how grueling my training can get. I don’t think I can, but I’ll have Anderson pick you up with ice cream.”
Something flashed in her eyes but she nodded. “Okay, I guess. But tell him I want strawberry.”
Emma cleared her throat purposefully.
“Strawberry, please,” Payton added.
I kissed her forehead, inhaling the watermelon scent of her shampoo. “Be good for Emma, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”
Feeling as awkward as a teenager, I glanced at Emma. Every time I left, I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to her. Today was no different.
I lifted up my hand to wave at her. “Uh, take care of her for me.” Lame.
“Always,” she replied with a reassuring smile and then shut the door, leaving me standing on the doorstep of the small bungalow I now called home.
New home, new work—and both of them were minefields that I was still learning how to tiptoe around.
The Denver Broncos had not greeted me with open arms and back slaps the moment I stepped foot on their field. It was high school all over again, where someone was judged on their looks, friends, or financial status. On paper I aced all those categories, but here I was beating my head against the mean girl clique. Everyone stared at me like I was an outcast. A few players looked as though they wanted to punch me in the throat.
I knew that they were treating me like a social pariah because I was once their competition. I was the guy who scored a touchdown and stole their glory last season, ruining their four-year championship streak. And now I was a part of their team.
We had an even bigger chance to win back the title now that I was a part of the team, but I also knew that they didn’t like me enough to throw the ball my way or have me score a winning touchdown.
They’d rather lose their glory than give me mine.
Even Coach Matthews showed his distaste for me. He had me run laps, just laps, the first day I joined and as much as I loved running, I hated the fact that it was all I did. He didn’t even let me join the practice. I wasn’t a new player. I was merely a new addition to the team. I wasn’t a rookie either. I’ve been playing professional football for two years. All the things Coach made me do were meant to make me look like a wuss.
“Hey, Pennington!” Matthews shouted, glaring at me.
I refrained from rolling my eyes at him. I knew it would just land me in more trouble. “Yes, Coach?”
“Run ten laps around the field. A hundred and fifty push-ups and then I’ll see if you could join the proper practice. See if you’re ready.”
Was he seriously kidding me? Did he not see me score that touchdown six months ago? I bit my tongue and started running. I could hear the others snickering in my wake, amusement evident on all their faces.
By the end of the training session, I was completely pissed and fuming. Coach didn’t let me join the practice again and even went as far as making me watch the others play while I sat on the bench. What made things worse, it was obvious that his play was a flop and his defenses were weak.
They obviously weren’t going to steal the trophy back and as much as that thought satisfied me, the fact that I was now on the losing team irritated the hell out of me.
I called Anderson the moment I got back in my car. “Anderson, I need time off from Payton.”
“What?” Anderson said. “What are you talking about?”
I honestly didn’t know what I was talking about. All I knew was that I needed booze and girls to de-stress. “I need to go clubbing.”
“But what about Payt
on?”
“Stay with her until I get home,” I responded, heading to the house.
I didn’t know Payton’s exact schedule, but I knew that on Mondays, she had art class that ended at four. It was 3:30 in the afternoon at the moment and I knew they weren’t home yet. Just a quick shower and change of clothes and I’d be ready to break out.
“But Emma’s leaving at eight, Zach,” Anderson reasoned. “You want me to stay with Payton until you come home, which is probably at the crack of dawn? She’s your niece, your responsibility—not mine.”
Fuck, he was whining a lot these days, considering how much I paid him. Then again, I did make him move to Denver.
“Just stay with her, Andy,” I said, irritated that I was on the verge of begging. “She’s not even supposed to be my responsibility.”
With that, I ended the call. I didn’t care how mean I sounded with what I said. I just needed time off. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I was done before the clock struck four. Only losers and gigolos went started their evenings this early, but I didn’t care. I’d welcome the Seniors’ menu at the bar, if it came to that.
I just needed to… get out.
Google and Uber got me to the club that Dean had brought me to when I first came to Denver to see him and Maggie after they moved. That was six years ago. I hesitated outside the door for some unknown reason, before being jostled in by a trio of businessmen shaking off the day.
The bar hadn’t changed that much. The only thing missing was… my brother. Shit.
“Hey, I know you,” the bartender said, sliding me the beer I ordered, “You’re the guy that scored the touchdown, the one who ruined the Broncos’ streak.”
I winced. I’d been getting that a lot since I moved here. “Yeah well, I’m part of the Broncos now so I’ll steal that championship trophy back for you.”
“Make sure that you do,” the bartender stated.
I continued on drinking until the party scene finally came to life and the music turned up. Suddenly, people crowded the bar and there were people bringing down the dance floor. I finished my fifth bottle of beer before heading down, and soon found myself grinding against a redhead who seemed to be thrilled to have caught my attention. I knew she’d been trying to; I’d caught her glancing in my direction twice.
“I’m glad you’ve finally noticed me,” she purred in my ear as she shimmied against me.
Without warning, her lips crashed on mine and the steam in the club skyrocketed.
It was hot, fast, hard, but I found myself a little distracted. I guess even being attacked by horny women loses its novelty after a while.
“Let’s get out of here.” She licked my lips as she said it.
I simply nodded. I’d wanted a break, right? This was like parole, a visit to the life I lived not that long ago. Somehow, though, it felt different. Almost… boring.
Regardless, I dragged her off of the dance floor and into a hallway that would lead us to the parking lot and the confines of my car. But just as we neared the exit, my phone rang and I groaned. The last time a phone call cockblocked me, I received the news about my brother.
“Ignore it,” said the redhead.
“Just give me a minute,” I murmured before fishing my phone from my pocket. I saw the screen flashing Emma’s name. “Hello?”
I placed a finger against the girl’s lips and she sucked my finger into her mouth. I stifled a groan as Emma began to talk.
“Payton’s having a meltdown.”
“Can’t you calm her down?” I asked, trying to suppress a moan as the girl in front of me began unbuckling my pants.
“Andy and I have been trying. We wouldn’t be calling you if we’d successfully calmed her down,” Emma told me, the panic seeping in her voice. In the background of the call, I could hear high-pitched cries. “She’s hysterical, Zach. She needs you.”
Parole revoked.
“Fine. I’m coming home,” I said, sighing as the girl in front of me managed to unzip my fly. “Babe, I think we’ll have to continue this some other time. I’m needed somewhere.”
She pouted prettily but stood up. She pulled out a pen from her purse and scribbled down her number on my forearm. Then she crashed her lips against mine, her tongue roaming my mouth for a moment before she pulled away. “I’ll expect your call.”
With a smirk, I got into my car and drove to the house. When I arrived at the small bungalow, I heard screaming. I rushed inside to find her on the ground, crying and screaming, and recoiling each time Emma or Anderson reached out to her.
“What the heck happened?” I asked the moment I stepped in.
Nobody responded. Payton seemed unaware of my arrival.
I moved closer to my niece, “Sweets, it’s me. It’s Uncle Zach.”
When she registered that I was there she jerked away from me, too.
“You don’t want me,” she wailed. “You don’t want to stay here with me but you don’t have a choice.”
My heart broke at her words. I’d said something similar to Dean after our parents’ loss. How the fuck did he hold it together? I wondered now. My brother was always stronger than me, and every day I was reminded of it.
I knelt in front of Payton and looked her straight in the eye. “Sweets, it’s me. It’s Uncle Zach and I’m not leaving you. I want to stay with you. I want to take care of you. So do Emma and Anderson.”
“You’ll leave, too.”
I reached out and touched her hand gently and then moved to touch her face. I made sure our gazes were locked together. “I won’t. I promise you I’ll stay.”
And slowly, like she finally believed me, Payton crawled closer and wrapped her small arms around my neck.
We stayed in that position, her face buried on my chest and my arms wrapped around her, until she fell asleep. I carried her to bed and Emma helped me tuck her in. I kissed her forehead gently and the two of us headed out of her room, gently closing the door behind us.
“What happened?” I demanded in a low voice.
Emma looked at me, her blue eyes tired. “I don’t know! She was looking for you since we got home. When the clock turned eight, she wouldn’t go to bed unless you were here. We finally convinced her but then she only slept for a little while before waking up with a night terror or something.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “What do you think happened?”
“I think she thought you abandoned her,” Emma said, honesty stinging in her words. “Look, Zach, I know it’s not my place to criticize, but she needs you. Not just the food, clothing and shelter thing. You’re the closest thing she’s got to a parent.”
“But I don’t know how to be a parent! That was Dean’s department. Not mine,” I said, the frustration rising in my voice. “And I have a life too, Emma. I want to actually enjoy it.”
“But she needs you,” Emma urged, her blue eyes staring straight into my soul. “She’s five years old, Zach.”
Memories of Dean taking care of me spun through my mind in an instant with such intensity it almost knocked me off my feet. Dean had always been there for me, even though he could’ve left me when he turned eighteen. And now I needed to be there for Payton.
“Fine, but on one condition,” I said, looking at Emma. “I can’t do this alone. I need you to move in with us. If I’m the closest thing she has to a dad, then you’re the closest she has to a mother.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Hesitation, maybe. What would I do if she said no? Payton needed me, right? Well, I needed Emma here to make my life easier.
Emma nodded her head. “Deal. For Payton.”
“For Payton.” I instinctively stuck out my hand to shake on it, but she crossed her arms over her chest.
Looked like my nanny was going to be the new warden.
Emma
I shouldn’t have agreed with Zach.
It had been two days since I moved in with them. I didn’t have my own bedroom and although Zach had offered the room he was staying i
n, I was more uncomfortable with that idea than the couch. Neither of us suggested that one of us make use of the master bedroom, which as far as I knew hadn’t been touched since Zach’s brother and sister-in-law died.
In any case, I was fine with sleeping on the pull-out and making the living room my bedroom at night. I’d lived in a lot of foster homes and some of them didn’t offer me a room to sleep in. I knew how to share, and I also knew how to create my own space when needed.
But the lack of a bedroom wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me most was Zach Pennington himself. Since I moved in, he thought I had just relieved him from his responsibilities with Payton.
He’d been coming home at dawn since I moved in, smelling like sweat, cigarette smoke and perfume. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he had been. I had to take care of his drunken ass and it suddenly felt like I was taking care of two kids and not just one.
I had to draw the line. The night before, he came home completely drunk—and he was loud when he was drunk. I was so scared that he’d wake Payton up and she would end up seeing her uncle at the state he was in. I didn’t want to traumatize the little girl.
What was worse was that he vomited the moment he came in the house. I mean, really? He couldn’t throw up in the bushes outside?
Then I had to wrestle him, fully clothed, into the shower to clean up. I debated whether or not to remove his clothes. The part of me that found him attractive—at pretty much any other time—was momentarily tempted, but the disgusted, infuriated, sopping wet part of me decided to throw him into his bed instead. Let him soak his own bedding, I thought.
It was only when I was cleaning up the front entry area that I realized I’d be the one doing his damn laundry, anyhow.
There was no way that I was letting this continue.
Just after seven in the morning, I gave up on trying to get back to sleep and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I knocked on Zach’s bedroom door and then just barged in, knowing that he couldn’t have locked it when I helped him to his bed because he was unconscious. I shook him awake.
He stirred and groaned, rolling on his bed. His clothes were damp and still a bit smelly, I noticed as he slowly opened his brown eyes. He stared at the ceiling and groaned again.
