SweetHarts (5 Book Box Set)

by Kira Graham

  “You’re something else, Alex. You know, after this”—he gestures to his leg—“I was terrified that everyone would look at me differently.”

  “And do we?” I ask, my eyes going to the wine with longing.

  I brought it to the table out of habit, but I know that I won’t drink any, and I also know for a fact that Nate can’t have it with his medications. It’s a symbol of loss, in a way, and yet, something inside me stirs, telling me that it’s also about life.

  Not wanting to think about that—not tonight—I focus on eating and find myself settling in so that by the time Nate finally answers me, I’ve eaten half my plate.

  “No, but I just…can’t help looking for the pity,” he admits, eating his own food with a groan. “Didn’t know you could cook,” he tells me, his sounds a compliment all on their own.

  “No one does. Don’t tell them this, but I took classes when I went to college. I love Sin’s food—don’t get me wrong—but after she started on the French stuff, I decided that it was either learn, or starve.”

  “Don’t like French food? Me neither. Give me a good old American barbecue with corn on the cob, a few sides, and a beer, and I am golden.”

  “Meh. Never been too fussy unless you count the slop that Honey tries to kill us with. I like most food, love Italian, and will literally kiss your ass if you give me something Mexican. Now, those people understand flavor combinations,” I sigh, my mouth watering for some salsa, guacamole, or tortilla chips.

  “Amen, sister. My great-granddaddy was Mexican, or so my mom told me once. I think. She was pretty drunk at the time, and high off her ass, so I can’t say for sure if it’s true,” he muses, a deep chuckle leaving him.

  The sound isn’t at all amused, though, more derisive and filled with disgust, and that makes me feel awful for the man. I may not always appreciate how into our lives my family can be, but I had good parents and a good family, and I always knew whom I could count on.

  “Well, you don’t have to know for sure in order to believe it, I guess. I like to think that Mom isn’t Irish—but hell,” I say, motioning to my hair with a grin. “It’s obvious as hell. Dad’s people are American mutt, or so he says. Then again, he just likes to change the dialogue that his mom always pushed about pure stock and their ancestry. And I get it. Who cares where you come from as long as you know who you are?”

  That has Nate whistling and leaning forward to discard his empty plate.

  “That’s some deep shit right there, Alex.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a deep kinda gal, Nate,” I tease, smiling when he chuckles, and the grimace finally leaves his face.

  With the prosthetic and sock gone, I see his stump lose a little of that angry red, and I promise myself that I won’t let him put it back on until it’s ready. Baby steps are the best way to go, sometimes, and just like an infant learns to crawl, sometimes we, too, have to take the time to do things in the right progression.

  “So tell me, what’s up? Not to dip into your guac or nothing, but that ain’t the flu, darling, and while I won’t force you to talk to me about it, I wish you would,” he says softly, making me smile ruefully and shake my head.

  “Not ready to talk about it, or think, or…I just, I started having these panic attacks, and then they got so bad that I thought, if I have to face people, and they force me to acknowledge it, I’m going to have a heart attack or something. I can’t explain it; I just…feel this panic,” I admit, wringing my hands until Nate grips one and threads his fingers through mine in order to still my nervous movements.

  “I get it. When I first woke up in the hospital, I would look down at my leg, and this panic would grip me. I don’t know what the hell that was about, seeing as how I know, in here”—he taps his head—“that it isn’t growing back, and that I can’t change shit. It still happened, though. Couldn’t accept it until Mindy took hold of my face and said, ‘Nate, darling, your bullshit is starting to upset me. You lost half your leg. Be grateful that the good Lord left you the other half, and a full one besides. I don’t love you any less. Now get the hell over it,’” he snorts, a deep chuckle leaving him—and this time sounding genuine.

  “Mindy, huh? She said all that?” I ask, giggling when he rolls his eyes and chuckles again.

  “She prayed for about ten minutes afterwards, apologizing for her bad language, but yeah. She said it, and I had to hear it. Doesn’t mean I’m okay, though—and that’s how I can say that I get it. Sometimes you just need time.”

  I need years, I think, my eyes flitting down to my stomach and then away.

  “What’s scaring you the most?” he asks when I sigh and swallow. “The next steps? The responsibility?”

  “The consequences!” I grumble, shaking my head in two rapid jerks. “Everyone’s in everyone’s business, and everyone knows everything, and at the end of it, I’ll be stuck, watching and alone.”

  “How will you be alone, Alex? Everyone is here for you.”

  “Everyone?” I laugh scathingly, my chest tightening. “No, Nate. Not everyone. I ended up pregnant by the one person on this planet who will probably freak out,” I groan, dropping my face into my hands.

  He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside me silently for several long minutes, and then I feel him take my hand again, his other hand softly tipping my chin up so that I have to meet his eyes.

  “You have to tell him.”

  My heart, hurting as much as it is, starts to pound, and I feel the sickly churn of my gut roiling, while sweat beads on my brow. Another panic attack is coming, just at the thought of telling him. That’s the problem here, I think dazedly, licking a bead of sweat off the upper part of my top lip. I am terrified of telling him! My God…

  “I can’t!” I pant, fighting to regulate my breathing.

  For how long, I don’t really know, as I’m busy concentrating on not passing out, and then when I come to, I am on Nate’s lap, with his hands softly stroking my hair and back while he croons to me.

  “It’s okay. Shh now, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his words gentle and soothing as I force myself to relax and calm down.

  “It isn’t. Do you think that I don’t know how insane it is to make my family lie to me? I’m not nuts…well, anyway, I am not unaware of how ludicrous this is. I just don’t know what else to do. I’ve thought of calling him and even actually dialed the number, but then hours later, I realize that I’m halfway to another state. One time, when I tried to get in my car and drive to his house, I ended up near South Carolina, at midnight, with no real recollection of how I’d gotten there.”

  Nate chuckles, the deep rumble tickling against my cheek where his chest meets my face. He sounds as amused as hell, and for a moment, I bask in his joy, liking that he can laugh, even if it’s at my expense.

  “Oh, Alex, Alex, Alex. Ladybug, you’re definitely working under a disadvantage, babe.”

  “Lunacy?” I snort, giggling when he chuckles and slaps my ass playfully.

  “Emotion,” he corrects, moving to settle me right beside him so that he can twist sideways and face me. “Love. Anger. Hate. Sadness. You’re feeling all of those emotions at once, and it’s unbalancing your equilibrium, honey. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you talk to him and tell him?” he asks softly, his eyes so kind that I sniffle and blink rapidly.

  “It’s one thing to reject me, Nate. I’m a big girl. I know how to laugh it off, cry it away, and take revenge. I can do those things, Nate. But what if…?” I can’t finish the sentence, no matter how much I know I should.

  At that, his eyes go hard, and for the first time since Rosetta dumped us together, I see a spark of the old Nate staring back at me, his steadfast strength and violence showing through.

  “Well, then we kill him.”

  Now, see? That I can totally get behind.

  ********************************************************************

  Someone’s pounding on my door, hard, and instead of taking the hint and leaving
, whoever it is begins another round of head-splitting hammering. Groaning out a curse, I try to shove my head under the pillow to drown out the sound, thinking that the person’ll eventually just F the F off and let me sleep.

  It’s been three days since I had my little talk with Nate, and, in that time, I’ve slowly been planning a way to break the news to Chilli, in a foolproof, I-can’t-escape-doing-it kind of way. First of all, this operation will involve a lot of people, who will take up key positions to keep me from running. We have Heath, who’s promised to be the outside man who’ll block all doorways and exits of any kind. Rosetta, as expected, will be right beside me, along with Nate, who has promised to bring his gun.

  That fact actually settled me down a little, and I won’t lie—the thought of Chilli’s being blown to bits if he says the wrong thing, is almost enough to make me want to tell him!

  Sin is handling all the family involvement, by which I mean that she and Tee will be the Sweethart handlers, keeping any interference from conflicting with my plans. And lastly, but in no way leastly, Cleo will take up her station beside Mom, armed with a syringe of sedative that Dad seems to keep handy for times when Mom forgets her Catholic upbringing and wants her dark side to rule.

  No joke, but if Chilli reacts poorly, then Mom will kill him, and, technicalities aside—burial and crime scene cleanup, I mean—I don’t think that the Harts will be okay with losing one of their own.

  “Goddammit!” I hear Nate roar, moments before I hear his cane thunking slowly and unsteadily down the hallway. “Keep your fucking pants on; I’m coming!” he bellows, amid giggles from Mindy, who is apparently now sleeping over.

  Fuck my life!

  “What? Goddammit. What the hell are you doing here? You can’t—Alex! Incoming!” I hear Nate yell, just as I shoot up to a sitting position, my stomach giving a threatening heave before I swallow and manage to settle it.

  My bedroom door bursts open just as I’m pushing the hair out of my eyes, and in strolls Chilli, dressed in jeans and a light blue polo, and looking as fresh as a morning daisy. The sight of him makes me lightheaded, until I realize that I’m holding my breath.

  Look, let me be clear here. I know why I’m holding my breath, and it definitely has a lot to do with the fact that I am terrified to smell him—God, the man smells amazing!—but I tell myself that it’s shock and horror as I expel it in a rush, my head swimming for a second.

  “Hart! I told you to get out!” Nate yells, clip-clopping down the hallway even as Chilli flips him off, slams the door, and turns the lock.

  “And I told you that we’re done dancing around each other. Go make coffee or something, asshole,” he yells back, turning to me with a glare. “You’re living with Nate?”

  I gasp, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, before I grasp my wits and slam it shut, leveling a killing glare back at Chilli. He can’t be here, my panicked mind yells, drowned out by the roar of my heart and this unwilling relief that I don’t want to admit to. I don’t want to feel relief that he came to me, and yet, a little part of me does.

  “No. He’s living with me,” I grumble, shifting off the bed to grab my robe and pull it on.

  It’s Dad’s old robe, one that I stole when I moved out and went to college. It’s large and soft and comfortable, and slightly ratty where the light blue sleeves have started to fray. It’s also voluminous enough to hide my stomach, which is something that I do out of self-preservation when I see him glance at it, a dark look entering his eyes.

  “That’s great, Alex. You run away for months, ignore everyone, and then reappear here again, in this condition and living with Nate. Is he the father?” he asks me, his voice a hiss and his lip curled.

  Now, see? This isn’t at all what I expected to have to deal with, and in all honesty, I’m as relieved as I am pissed by his reaction. My mind yells at me to run, but with Chilli standing right in front of the door, with his legs spread and his arms crossed, I’m trapped here with him.

  “You need to leave! I don’t want you here. I don’t have to listen to your crap, and I most certainly don’t want to have to answer your stupid questions. This isn’t what I had planned!” I scream.

  My plan involves more time, during which I was possibly, subconsciously planning to sneak out in the middle of the night. Look, I’m not perfect, okay?

  “Oh, of that I have no doubt, Al! What? What happened, huh? You and I had a fight, and you ran out, slept with Nate, and then hit the road? Did you have a sense of remorse and come back to make peace with your secret piece on the side? How did that play out when you came back and realized that he and Mindy are an item?” he sneers, his eyes blazing when I suddenly, and inexplicably, start laughing.

  I can’t help it—or control it. I just laugh. Partly because Chilli is batshit crazy, and partly because I must be, too, if I’m looking at this asshole and thinking, “God, he looks so good that I could just lick him.” Which I am. I blame my hormones, which heretofore have been as dead as all get-out. Now, though, they rage out of control fast, and as I stare and continue to laugh at a scowling Chilli, I find myself feeling things that I don’t want to. Lust. Nostalgia. And pure rage.

  Did he just accuse me of whoring myself around to a man that I consider one of my close friends? More to the point, is he suggesting that I slept with Nate, who was dating Mindy at the time?

  “What the hell are you laughing about? What is wrong with you? This isn’t funny, Al! Do you realize that you’re pregnant, and that your child needs a father?” he yells, his hysteria-tinged words making me laugh harder—so hard, in fact, that I choke and start to cough, falling to my knees when the lack of air overwhelms me. “Alex!”

  “Oh, my God,” I gasp, still hiccupping with mirth. “You’re hilarious.”

  “This isn’t funny!” he yells, coming over to help me, but backing away with his hands raised when I hiss and bare my teeth at him. “This is serious. What are you going to do? Have you told him about that baby? Has he suggested marriage? I’ll make him do it. A baby’s mother and father should be married. Your baby’s father should take care of you,” he says seriously, spewing that bullshit out with such somber solemnity that I stop giggling and meet his eyes, filled with pure glee because—Chilli, oh Chilli, you have no idea what you’re saying.

  “Is that a fact?” I ask smugly, coming to my feet with a smirk. “My baby’s father should marry me, huh?”

  I can practically see his brain working and want to roar with mirth when he grits his teeth, fists his hands, and flares his nostrils. So, the great Chilli Hart doesn’t like the thought of my marrying another man, not even a man as good as Nate. Interesting.

  “He should. And he will,” he answers though gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing when I let a slow smile curve my lips.

  Gone is my panic. That nerve-crushing fear that had me in its grip is just—poof! Gone. And in its place is a very unhealthy and lust-filled plan that takes flight in my mind. Hey, I have never said that I’m all okay up in the cranial hemispheres, and I never once pretended to be some decent person who cares about everyone’s feelings. I’m me, and right now, the version of me who is facing Chilli and his insulting wrath is the me who is angry and hurt and wants revenge.

  I guess that’s where I get the balls to say what I say, and it’s probably why I don’t pay any attention to the wrongness of it.

  “That’s awesome, Chilli. Soooo, where’s my ring?”

  Chapter Eight

  Achilles

  The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

  I pace my living room floor and ignore the band of baboons all sitting on the couches, silently watching me with smiles and amusement coloring their expressions.

  Adonis is the most amused, and then I have Zeus, who won’t stop laughing intermittently or exchanging high fives with Ares, who apparently has money riding on this mess.

  “She lied!” I whisper to myself, turning on my heel to make another circuit back to the dining room, where I sta
rted in the first place.

  “She isn’t lying, Chilli, and she isn’t going to just change her mind and say something else. Look, man, this happened four months ago already. Trust me. Rosetta called it even before Alex had taken to running, and by the time we found her, I was basically already in agreement. You and Alex slept together, and the result is a baby,” Zeus says softly, his eyes holding a serious light that makes me want to throw up.

  This cannot be happening, I think, keeping my opinions to myself, because the more I voice my feelings, the more hostile my brothers become. I can’t be a dad. I just can’t be. Alex and I used protection, and she was on the pill. Hell, I took her to fill her prescription the last time, and even had a two-hour talk about the differences between the days and how the cycle can be measured.

  It was as gross as hell, and no, I don’t feel bad saying that. It’s not that I get skeeved out by periods and women bleeding. All that’s natural, and something that men shouldn’t shy away from. It’s the details that Alex gave when she went on a rant about women having to endure that shit while men get to swan around, as free as birds.

  I still have the scar from when she lost her temper, for no good reason, and hurled a glass at me. Rubbing the little scar on my hand, I think back to those months and wonder where things went wrong. When we slept together, I used condoms, even knowing that Alex was on the pill. So this can’t be happening. After I saw her, I kept thinking that she must have been with someone else, but after a long-ass interrogation of Grange, Alex’s personal security, I now know that she hasn’t been with a guy since me. I also got a fist in the eye from Grange, because, according to him, as Alex’s pseudo-brother, it’s his right to fuck me up for hurting his girl.

  “It’s happening, Chilli. Grow up and fucking deal,” Adonis finally tells me, his face and voice hard. “You’re going to be a dad, and, as you so succinctly put it, according to Mindy and Nate, who were eavesdropping on your rant to Alex, the father is bound by honor to marry the mother. So as far as I can see, you’re on the hook here, boy,” he tells me, ignoring the shock that fills my face.