Mancave

by Jo Raven

  Then Matt is there, shoving him away. “Get your hands off her,” he grunts, and wraps me up in his arms. “You okay, girl? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’m okay. He…” I squirm, turning in the circle of Matt’s arms, looking for Ross. “He didn’t hurt me, Matt, I slipped, and he caught me. Where is he?”

  Matt’s hold relaxes marginally, and I start after Ross who’s stalking away, hands in his pockets, head bowed. “Ross! Wait.”

  “Dammit, Tay.” Matt sounds exasperated. “Keeping you from falling doesn’t mean he’s changed. You heard all he said in the truck.”

  I did. And still I’m not convinced, I’m not ready to give up. “Ross. Stop.” I hurry after his tall figure. “Stop!”

  He finally slows down, and turns around, walking backward. “What do you want?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “You are. So what’s up? I can grab a cab. I don’t need your boyfriend’s abuse.”

  “He’s my husband. And you’re one to talk of abuse.”

  “Know what? Go home, Octavia. We have nothing to say.”

  I stop, and open my mouth to either beg him to wait, or send him to hell, when a strange vibration goes through my belly. A gasp escapes me. I press a hand to my rounded stomach, and it happens again. It’s not my phone in my pocket, it’s my belly.

  What is that?

  “Tay. Tay, what is it?” Matt is at my side in a heartbeat, his hand covering mine. “You okay?”

  “I felt something. Here, it’s… feel it?”

  His head bends toward mine, and his frown clears. He smiles. “Know what that is? The baby kicking.”

  Oh God. Tears gather in my eyes. “You sure?”

  He nods, and his eyes look wet, too. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Another flutter comes under our hands, and we both grin.

  Then a shadow falls over us. “You’re pregnant?” Ross asks quietly, eyes round as saucers. “You serious?”

  Matt’s eyes narrow, and I flinch. If he spoils this beautiful moment with his awful comments, I swear… I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Leave him here and go, I guess.

  But he’s quiet. He glances where our hands are resting on my belly, and then he says, “You wanted to talk. So let’s talk.”

  * * *

  We get back into the truck and drive away. It feels like a dream. I keep my hands on my belly, in case the baby moves again, but it’s all quiet in there.

  Was Matt right? Was that what it was? It makes it all seem more real. Not an abstract thing but a baby, moving, breathing inside of me.

  Ross is also quiet in the back seat as we head toward Destiny, while Matt keeps flicking glances at me, his mouth twitching into a smile every time he catches my eye.

  I smile back, slightly dazed. What a day—and it’s only morning.

  And as we approach Destiny with its low houses and rustling trees, the people walking slowly down the street, lifting a hand to wave hello and watch us drive by, it strikes me that now we’ve come so far, I don’t really know what to say to Ross. What to ask him, or how.

  No idea what miracle I’d hoped to work, and why I thought I have that sort of power. Matt was right. Matt is often right, because despite his brusque ways, he’s smart and understands way more than he lets on.

  Ross is a bully. Always was, and probably always will be. Plus, he’s always had it in for me in particular, and though he never laid a finger on me growing up—apart from that memorable day in Jasper’s Garage where Matt stepped in and shoved him right back—he did make me cry countless times with his taunting and mean nicknames. He always had his friends with him, too, and they cornered me sometimes at school or on my way home, calling me names and insinuating I’d slept with all of them while passersby looked on. He made me feel like a whore, like I was worthless.

  I’d been miserable. And later to find out that he’d known for far longer than I had that we share the same dad…

  Yeah, Matt was right. What was I thinking?

  I’m so lost in thought I barely notice when we park and Matt comes around to open my door and help me down. I’m vaguely aware of Ross walking on my other side as we enter the diner. This is where I first saw Matt outside his house, with his two kids. He’d been an ass to me when I asked about his kids—again—and do I sense a pattern here?

  Am I set on saving every man who’s been an asshole to me?

  No, that’s not right. Just because Matt proved to be gold under the grit, that doesn’t mean Ross is, too. After all, Matt was rude to me a few times.

  Ross bullied me for years.

  A shiver rocks me as we sit down at a window table. Is it the same table Matt and his kids had sat years ago? Where he’d told me to mind my own business, his eyes hard and haunted?

  If Ross isn’t like Matt, anything like Merc and all the men I care for, then what’s my subconscious trying to tell me with those dreams?

  The waitress comes by with coffee, and the smell makes me want to retch, but I’m officially distracted as I breathe through my nose.

  Distracted by nerves.

  Maybe I’ll puke anyway. My stomach twists as I face Ross for real—in the low hum of the diner, the few customer’s voices and the noise from the kitchen. I’ve never sat with him at a table before.

  Never spoke except to yell at each other, exchange insults and hatred.

  His ice-blue eyes flicker around the inside of the diner, his shoulders squared as if expecting an attack. I study again his features, seeing a bit more of Merc there than ever before.

  Is that why I’m having those dreams? That vague similarity that marks Ross as family, even if his actions don’t seem like it?

  “Let’s order some breakfast,” Matt says, interrupting the uneasy silence between us. “I’m buying.”

  “Why?” Ross shoots him a wary look.

  Matt just scowls at him, folding his arms on the table.

  Oh boy.

  “We invited you,” I say quickly. “And I’m hungry.”

  “Of course you are,” Ross mutters, and something in my chest jolts with remembered pain—from his insults, his mean insinuations.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I whisper.

  “In your condition,” Ross says, and makes it sound like a disease.

  Then again, he’s good at this. At making me feel shitty about everything good in my life.

  “Feeling threatened by babies now, Ross?” I ask, and he blinks.

  Then those icy eyes narrow on me. “Oh, did that hurt? See, you wanted me to talk, sweet cheeks. I’ll talk, but are you sure you want that?”

  “Damn you, Ross. Play nice, or I’ll still kick your ass,” Matt growls, starting to get up from his seat.

  I lay a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Let Ross talk.” I turn back to my half-brother. “So talk. Let it all out. Tell me what’s your beef with me, what’s gone all wrong inside that white-blond head of yours over the years. See if you can shock me.”

  He blinks again, his mouth working without a sound.

  Yeah, I don’t know where those words came from. In my mind, I’d be patient, kind, waiting for him to open up. But it looks like today’s not the day for patience. Nothing has gone as planned. It was probably all a fantasy, a Ross transformed.

  Sure, he saved me from slipping when I got out of the truck earlier, and agreed to talk, but what next?

  “Fine. Go ahead, Ross, and talk,” Matt says, his voice dangerously flat. “We’re all ears. What is your goddamn problem? Enlighten us.”

  “My problem?” Now Ross looks pissed, color rising to his cheekbones. “You butted into my life today, threatened me from the moment I opened my mouth, and you want to talk. Talk about what, then? What the hell do you want from me?”

  He’s vibrating with anger. I watch him as if from a thousand miles away, wondering where it all comes from.

  Fearing that I know the answer.

  The waitress appears at our table, menus in her hand.
She takes a look at us, places the menus down and flees.

  “You’ve always known we had the same father.”

  “I’ve known for a long time. Dunno when I found out. Dad told me about you, that you were his bastards. That you didn’t deserve to be in this town with us. That your mom was using him to suck up all his money.”

  “That’s not true!” I know I shouldn’t take the bait, that I should know better by now, but I can’t help the knee-jerk reaction. “Jasper had so much money, and he never gave us one single penny. You know it’s true.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t like having you romping around my town.”

  “Your town,” Matt mutters. “Wow.”

  “You don’t get it,” Ross says.

  “You’re right, I don’t.” Matt shakes his head.

  “And instead of telling me all this, you thought it better to bully me?” I swallow hard. “Why me, anyway? Why not Gigi or Merc?”

  “So today’s the day you want to understand it all?” He cocks his head to the side like a bird, his eyes hard. “No real reason. You’re roughly my age. You took my place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  But he huffs a breath and shoves his hand through his hair again, ignoring my question. “Is this what today was all about? Understanding Ross and his viciousness? Giving Ross breakfast and getting him to apologize? Cause I ain’t doing any of that. Keep your coffee and breakfast. I got places to be.”

  “Like your daddy’s loving embrace?” I’m breathing hard, my neck and face hot with anger. “Go on, then.”

  “What is it you want from me?” He licks his lips and looks away, a flash of something weird going over his face. He sounds… desperate.

  For whatever reason.

  “I’m not even sure myself,” I admit. “I was worried. About you.”

  He laughs, a harsh sound that ends abruptly. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

  Don’t take the bait, Octavia. “I’ve been having this dream about you. You die in it. And I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “You are fucking kidding me.” But his gaze swings back at me, uncertain. “You’re here because of a dream?”

  “No, you don’t get it.” God, he really is an ass, or that stupid? “I’m here because of you. I dream of you because I am worried about you. That’s how nightmares work. You don’t get scared of things that don’t matter to you.”

  “And now I matter to you all of a sudden?”

  “I found out you were in prison, Ross. That your father—our father—has been drinking and pushing everyone in the garage around. You were an asshole to me, so why would I care, right? But you’re also my brother, and since our good-for-nothing father isn’t there for you, yeah I got worried.”

  His face pales. The knot in his throat moves as he swallows.

  “You can stop this,” I whisper. “This vicious cycle. Stop drinking, being mean to people and getting into prison. You’re young, Ross. You can still fix your life. You don’t have to turn into our father.”

  Silence falls. Matt is staring at me, gaze thoughtful.

  Ross’s face is paper white, spots of red on his cheekbones.

  I replay my words in my mind. Ross is turning into Jasper, isn’t he? Drinking, getting into trouble, turning into a loathsome loner nobody wants around, a guy with a history of violence and problems. A guy the judge will send to prison every time, because he’s a troublemaker.

  In the silence, the screech of Ross’s chair being shoved back startles me. “Well, I’m fine as you can see. That should set your mind at rest, sister.” He bares his teeth at me. “Go and reproduce in peace, and let me destroy myself the way I want.”

  Matt is on his feet, too. “Don’t let us stop you,” he says. “Fuck off and don’t come near Octavia again.”

  But the lump in my throat won’t let me breathe. “Why?” I lean forward. “Why do you hate me so much, Ross?”

  He stops, his back at me, and at first I think he won’t reply. But he turns back around, hands fisted at his sides, eyes glittering.

  “Because you had it all,” he says bitterly. “A loving mom, and siblings. A nice, warm house. Warm food on the table. You had love. I could see it on your face every day, and it pissed me off. You’re my goddamn age. That could have been me, but it wasn’t. It was you. I got the drunkard, violent dad, and you got the loving mom. So I figured it was only fucking fair that you suffer a little, too. Share my fate.”

  My heart lurches, starts pounding. “Ross…”

  “Fuck off.” He dashes a hand over his face and turns away again. “I hope your dreams stop, and you forget all about me. Leave me alone. Go back to your perfect little world.”

  “Please don’t go yet.”

  He sighs, his shoulders rising and falling. “Don’t you see? I don’t hate you, Octavia. I hate myself.”

  And in two strides he’s out of the diner. I watch numbly through the window as he walks over to the truck, opens the door and drags his duffel bag out. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walks away and vanishes.

  Probably for good. I doubt I’ll ever see him again, except in my dreams—and yet…

  And yet I have a feeling this isn’t over, that this meeting wasn’t for nothing. A butterfly’s flight can change the world, so why not this?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Matt

  I order breakfast and then practically force-feed it to Octavia. She needs to eat, even if she’s shell-shocked right now. It’s as if we’ve been through a goddamn nuclear explosion, sitting in the wasteland left behind and trying to make sense of it.

  Well, Octavia has to feel that way. Me? I’m not that surprised. Ross is a mean motherfucker. I was right about him.

  Wasn’t I?

  I hate it when the doubts hit. Yeah, he’s a douchebag. He’s just as he was last time I saw him. Leaner, harder, for sure. Prison does that to you. He looks more tired, more careful.

  But no less vicious.

  Still, as I gulp down my bitter coffee, I can hear his voice, his words coming back in waves. So much fucking anger in him, so much fury at the world, and fate. It feels… familiar somehow. Reminds me of how I felt after Emma died.

  So much pain.

  And I hate that I’ve found this point of empathy with him. I’m not like him. We’re nothing similar, him and me. I don’t pull the wings off butterflies to pass my time.

  But I remember what Octavia said, what he said. What if I’d grown up in a home like his? No mother, a dick for a father, and a few streets away a family he wished he’d had, made up of his father’s other children.

  The children who escaped his fate.

  Christ.

  Octavia wipes at her eyes with her hands for the hundredth time, and I’m pissed at Ross all over again.

  I put my arm around her and swallow a growl deep in my throat. “Deep breaths, Tay. Everything will be okay.”

  Yeah, fuck the empathy. How dare that asshole hurt my girl again and get away with it? Fuck him. Not everyone growing up in an abusive household turns into a selfish bastard. That’s all on him.

  And I should have punched him out cold and left him here to stew in his own assholery. I only held back for Octavia’s sake, and what good did it do?

  I wipe her tears with my thumb and kiss her hair. “Forget about Ross,” I whisper. “Think about us, our family. The baby. Gigi, Merc, Mary, Cole. Our moms. Our house in St. Louis.”

  “I know.” She nods against my shoulder. “I just wish he’d listen.”

  “Nobody can be saved against their own will, girl. If Ross wants to change, he’ll have to do it himself.”

  I doubt he ever will, though. And all I want is to make Octavia smile again. This trip has been exhausting for her in every sense, and the responsibility weighs heavily on me. I need to take care of her, keep her safe. Keep her happy.

  Damn, I can’t wait to go home and put this mess behind us.

  * * *

/>   Octavia sleeps all the way to St. Louis, and I keep stealing glances at her tired face. She’s cute when she’s asleep, her mouth slack, cheeks rosy, lashes fluttering, and she makes those cute little snoring noises sometimes.

  Shit. I shake my head at myself, grinning. I’m so pussy-whipped. God, I fucking love this woman, and everything will be okay again.

  I’ll make it so.

  It’s early afternoon by the time we reach the city. The familiar suburbs of my city greet us, dim buildings rising through the gray light of day, cars with their headlights turned on as a light drizzle falls. The wipers whiz against the windshield as I slow down, taking the exit into St. Louis.

  On our way home, we drive by Mancave, and I resist the urge to stop and check on things. Kaden won’t appreciate it, I’ll bet. No need to look like I don’t trust him to keep the shop running another day.

  Though, I need to talk to him, tell him about Evan. Tell Kaden I trust his judgment, his experience, his management skills. That I’d never have been able to run the garage without him.

  Funny how a few days out of town dealing with a broken friend and an asshole half-brother-in-law can put some things into perspective. Despite the stress of these past few days, or maybe because it was a different sort of stress, my mind feels clearer. Like I cleared up lots of cluttered up space, and now I can see things I couldn’t before.

  Like how damn lucky I am.

  Okay I knew that, but it’s struck me like never before. Compared to Evan. Compared to Ross, for chrissakes. I’m so lucky to have such good people around me, to have Kaden at my side.

  But first we go home. I need to see my kids, hold them. I need to talk to Mary, and ask Gigi what exactly happened last night. If she made any sense of Mary’s ramblings.

  See my mom, our room, our bed, walk the house and make sure everything’s as I left it, that it hasn’t fallen apart while I was away.

  Ease the constant fear that rides me. Some day it may even fade away for good. I’ll work on it.

  The kids might not be home yet, I realize as I drive down our street and our house comes into view. I can never remember the days they have activities, as I’m usually at work at that time.