Suddenly, the redhead guy turned around and looked straight at me, almost startled. "So she is," he said to the young man.
"Uh... hi?" I said, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. "Good morning, I mean."
"Hey, hi, are you okay?" The redhead guy got up and came to me, putting his hands on my upper arms and looking down at me in a way that made my stomach feel quite ticklish. I felt... safe. I could tell he was genuinely concerned about me. And I had been too upset to notice last night, but he was handsome. Not in a classical way, really, but in kind of a Leonardo DiCaprio type of way, with his reddish hair falling across his forehead, and stormy gray eyes. Being this close, I could see he had a small scar bisecting his left eyebrow.
"I'm fine, I—"
The young man in the wheelchair said something. At least I guess he was talking because the redhead turned and said to him, "Yeah, but you don't need to say so. Don't be a dick."
Through their interaction, I could only assume they were brothers. As the younger one responded, I thought he might be grinning, but it was hard to tell because his facial expression moved constantly. Even his mouth was always moving. In a way, I felt really bad for him and didn't know how to act or what to say. He made eye contact with me, or at least I thought he did, and his grin widened. He said something, but I didn't understand it at all.
"You want some breakfast?" The redhead gestured toward the other end of the living room, where a doorway led to a warmly-lit area I presumed to be the kitchen. "I've got eggs and bacon and—" He glanced over his shoulder as the young man interjected. "Yeah man, English muffins. So now you want breakfast now that we've got a cute girl at the table?"
The boy in the wheelchair laughed. It didn't sound like anything I had ever heard before, but it was definitely laughter. I was a little embarrassed by the compliment, but all I could do was smile and follow the redhead guy into the kitchen.
"How d'you like your eggs, uh..." He was already at the stove, pulling things from the nearby fridge. He turned to glance at me. "What's your name?"
"Candace," I said, taking a seat at the table.
"Nice to meet you, Candace. I'm Ty, and that's—"
"Chuff-thin." The boy in the wheelchair rolled up beside me and pulled up to the table. He was looking at me expectantly and I looked back, nonplussed.
"Huh?" Was all I could manage. I had never been in this close proximity to someone with such a severe disability. He made me nervous like I might offend him or do something wrong.
"Muh... ngaym— Zhhhhhuh... zhuh... Jus— tin," he managed to say.
I stared at him for a second, when the words finally clicked. I brightened up and said, "Oh! Justin! Your name's Justin?"
I think he tried to nod, but it was hard to tell. He seemed pleased, though. I think.
"He's hard to understand at first, but you'll get used to it," said Ty, cracking a couple eggs into the pan. "Fried eggs okay with you, Candy?"
"Canda... oh, uh..." I blushed a little and tried to hide my smile. Ever since I could remember I had wanted people to call me Candy, but my mom thought it was stupid and forbade me from introducing myself that way. Hearing it from Ty's lips made me giddy. I loved the way he said it, with a little extra pressure on the d. "Fried eggs, great. Yeah."
"We'll eat and make sure you're okay. Once my Ma gets back from her thing, I can take you home." Ty split a couple of English muffins and put them in the toaster.
"Thank you..." I said, fidgeting with the frayed sleeve of the oversized shirt. "Ty?"
"Hm?"
"What, uh... what happened last night?" I glanced at Justin and then at Ty's broad back. He still wore the same leather jacket. I wondered, with a smile, if he slept in it.
"You don't remember?" He still had his back to me, his voice tinged with anger.
"Not really, sorry... I just remember a... a big fight..."
"Yeah. And your lousy piece of shit boyfriend fuckin' left without you." Ty still had his back to me as he shook his head. "I was in the parking lot when he left. I saw his cowardly ass get in his fuckin' Beemer and peel out without you." He snorted softly. "After you'd gone in there to try and save him. A scrawny chick like you. Not even armed." He shook his head once more, fussing over the eggs and bread before setting the plate down in front of me. "That's why you got knocked out, of course. A couple of guys grabbed you and just..." He gritted his teeth and turned away. "I had to get you outta there, but I didn't know what else to do. Couldn't get you an Uber in that condition, obviously. So I brought you home."
"You... you live here?" I looked around the kitchen in amazement. It, too, was clean and well-cared-for, but still kind of old and shabby. The tiles were yellowing, the countertops were out of style and the valance hanging over the window was faded. I couldn't imagine how a rough-and-tumble gangster who peddled rare vintage motorcycles for forty grand a pop was living like this. Didn't gangsters have, like, mansions and stuff? I glanced at Justin again, and he looked at me pointedly.
"Yep. Ever since I was born," said Ty.
Where were the marble floors, the champagne fountains, the gaggles of big-breasted, scantily clad women? This guy, his house, and his disabled kid brother defied every preconceived notion I'd ever had about biker gangs. It kinda made my head hurt. I rested my temple against my hand and started picking at the breakfast in front of me. My appetite wasn't great, but I didn't want to insult him by refusing.
Ty sat down with a plate for himself and set a plate in front of Justin with nothing but a dry English muffin on it. It took Justin a good twenty seconds to even be able to pick the thing up in his spasming fingers. I tried not to stare as he negotiated the bread to his mouth, struggling for every inch of the gap he closed. He took a bite and seemed to have a difficult time chewing, too. Jesus, does this kid ever get a break? I thought to myself.
"What, never seen someone with cerebral palsy before?" Ty snapped, glaring at me. I guess I had been staring.
"Uh... actually, no, I... I guess I haven't," I said, feeling like a jerk. "Sorry."
Justin said something and Ty scoffed. "You're just saying that cause she's cute."
Justin made a noise that sounded like agreement.
"You know, his mind is perfect," Ty said, his voice quiet, but fierce, as he picked up the crumbled English muffin and fed a piece of it to his brother. "It's so fucked up, isn't it? I know he looks all skinny and weak and he talks all retarded or whatever, but that's just how his brain works. Damage to his, like... you know—"
"Motor cortex?" I offered, hearkening back to my anatomy and physiology classes.
"Yeah." Ty took a few bites of his own food while Justin struggled to chew a single mouthful. "But the mind inside? Perfectly normal, just like any other healthy human being. But nobody treats him normal because of how he looks and sounds. But he's smart as hell. One of these days, I'm gonna get the money to send your ass to college. Someone in this family's gotta be educated."
"What do you want to study at college, Justin?" I piped in, deciding, in that moment, that even if I was uncomfortable around the guy, I was going to do everything in my power to treat Justin like any other boy my age.
"I wahn be a... doc—oc—"
"Doc Ock? I think that job's taken," Ty teased with a perfectly straight face.
"Doctuh," Justin managed to spit out, nudging Ty's leg with his foot— the Justin equivalent of arm punching, I surmised.
"What kind of doctor?" I asked, wondering how in the hell he was planning to treat patients if he couldn't touch them without his arms and hands waving and wobbling all over the place.
"Shh... surrr—geon," Justin said, and Ty burst out laughing, clapping his hands one time and stomping his foot.
"He's messing with you," Ty informed me upon seeing the look of confusion, shock, and horror on my face. Ty's smile evaporated far too quickly. It was only after seeing him laugh that one time that I realized how serious he always was, which was a shame because his smile was gorgeous. His stormy gra
y eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and he showed all of his teeth, which, while remarkably straight and white, had a bit of a totally adorable overbite.
"Oh... good one," I said with a nervous laughter. It was a pretty good joke, I was kinda sorry I had missed it.
"Dia... nost... ish..."
"Diagnostician," Ty translated for my benefit. "Obviously he can't do your usual, clinic-type medicine, but he's good at puzzles and he's got this morbid fascination with diseases—"
"Not morbid," Justin said, "juht... fa—in— inating."
"Yeah, right. How many other guys do you know can boast an encyclopedic knowledge of tropical infections?" Ty rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Candy, where d'you live? I'll take you home soon."
"Um, I live in Southeast," I said, "Where are we now?"
"Southeast," Ty said. "I bet you could walk from here, but I'll give you a ride anyway. You're in bad shape."
"I'll be fine," I said, nibbling on a strip of bacon. "So what about you? Was that your—"
"Ty, I'm home!" someone called from the living room, where the front door was. An older woman with wavy gray hair came into the kitchen, setting a couple grocery bags on the counter. She beamed at me in a way that made me feel bashful. "Hi, honey. Who's this, Ty?"
"This is Candy, she got into some trouble while I was at work last night." Ty stood up. "I'll go get the rest of the bags outta the car." He blushed a little as the woman kissed his cheek in greeting before turning to me.
"Hi, Candy. I'm Ty's mother, Judy." She stuck out her hand and then said, "Are you a hugger?"
"Huh?" Before I could manage a response, she enveloped me in a warm, motherly embrace. "Nice to meet you, Judy."
"Thank you, honey— oh, Ty." As he came back inside with the rest of the bags, Judy turned to her son and touched his arm. "Honey, can you stick around for a few more hours?"
"Ma..."
"I was, um..." Judy looked down at her feet, almost bashfully, "I was hoping to go pick out a new dress for tonight."
Ty's brow was furrowed in private irritation, but his mouth was already softening. He patted his mother's shoulder and said, "Of course, Ma. Maybe get your nails done while you're at it."
"Oh, I don't know if we can afford all that," she said before her eyes bugged as Ty pulled a couple of twenties out of his pocket. "Ty Jameson Franklin, where did you get that?"
"We had a good night at the bar," he said roughly, "y'know, before all that other shi— er, crap happened. Get yourself a nice dress. A new one too. Don't go to Salvation Army, huh? That oughta be enough. You work hard, Ma, go take it easy for a couple hours."
Judy was choked with emotion, tears welling in her eyes. There was a long moment of silence, a kind of tension that I didn't quite understand, and for a moment, I thought Judy might throw the money back at her son and yell at him. Even Justin looked tense. But then her fingers tightened over the cash and she sighed, looking down at her disabled son, who was now making encouraging noises and trying to touch her hand.
"Fine, fine. You boys have convinced me," she said, pocketing the money. "Thank you, Ty. I hate to take money from you..."
"You deserve to feel like a million bucks tonight." Ty wrapped his arms around the woman, who was only two or three inches shorter than him and hugged her tight. "I'll put away the groceries. You get outta here."
"Thank you, baby." She glanced at me and got startled for a moment, as if she'd forgotten I was there, before smiling brightly once again. "Nice to meet you, Candy. I'll be seeing you soon." With that, she took up her bag and left the house in a hurry.
"Hey, is there someone you can call to come get you?" Ty said to me as he started putting the food away. I felt stupid just watching him, so I got up and started helping. "You don't have to do that..."
"No, but I want to help. You've done a lot for me, Ty." I started putting the cold food away since I had no idea where anything else was supposed to go.
"Well, I just gave Ma the day to go shopping and she's got a date tonight. Unless you wanna hang out here with me and Justin, someone's gonna have to come get you. I can't leave him—"
"Of course not," I said, glancing over my shoulder, but Justin had left the room. "I wouldn't expect you to."
"You're welcome to stay if you want," he added idly, stuffing a loaf of bread in the breadbox. "Only you might be bored trying to hang out with me and him—"
"Actually, I... I'd like to, if I could," I said, not even realizing until the words escaped my lips, how badly I wanted to stay with him. Even though he was kind of gruff and serious, Ty had this strange warmth about him. His presence was reassuring, and safe, and... well, like I said, he was very easy on the eyes. Truth be told, I was pretty attracted to him, even though I would have bet my life savings that he already had some ridiculously hot biker chick girlfriend. I bet she had dreads and wore a bandanna, and never had to put makeup on. In my mind, she was healthy-skinny with the perfect boobs and had a nose piercing. Basically, everything I wasn't. Sure, he'd never want a girl like me, but I could hang out with him for a while longer and daydream.
Ty was so surprised by this that he stopped putting groceries away for a second. He didn't look at me, though. I wondered if he was about to tell me that I had to leave anyway, before he shoved a jar of peanut butter in the cabinet and said, "Okay then." And I couldn't have been sure because I was grabbing a gallon of milk that turned out to be really goddamn heavy for me and required all my concentration, but I think— I think— I saw Ty's lips curl into a tiny, lopsided smile.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ty
I couldn't believe that Candy wanted to stay. Every other girl I'd ever met, even the ones who really liked me, were usually pretty eager to get away from Justin. Maybe she just felt obligated or whatever, but it still shocked me. I mean it really shocked me, and maybe in a good way. It gave me a little warm feeling when I thought my heart had kinda died. It was nice to know I was still capable of emotion.
We spent a while just watching TV. Candy was obviously still tired from last night and to be honest, so was I. Justin, however, was always happy to watch reruns of House MD. House was his idol. I think Justin was dreaming of becoming just like the snarky character, just... you know, with cerebral palsy instead of a bum leg. No big deal. I worried about the kid a lot, honestly, because I knew he was capable of more than people supposed. I knew things would work out for him, eventually, I just didn't know when or how.
Especially not since his damn arm wouldn't heal. He hit it again on a door frame while Candy was there, and the pain was worse than I'd ever seen it. Poor kid was trying to be strong, but his cheeks turned red and tears rolled down his face. Despite his best efforts, he kept groaning because he couldn't keep the damn thing still. We had tried binding it to his chest a while back, but his spasms only strained against the bonds. After he calmed down a bit, he retreated to his room, since he was in so much pain and it was undignified for a twenty-three-year-old man to cry, but Candy and I could hear him weeping from the kitchen. The sound made me so angry, not at Justin, but at the world as a whole, at the fucked-up medical system, at the so-called God who was allowing all this shit happen to my baby brother. I held my head in both hands, grumbling inarticulately.
"Is... is there anything I can do?" Candy asked.
"If there was anything anyone could do, we woulda done it already," I snapped. "He needs an operation. They can set his arm surgically so that it'll heal faster, but that shit costs a lotta money and the insurance won't cover it, no matter how many times the doctor calls them."
"That's horrible," Candy whispered. "Oh, Ty, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be. I'm sorry enough for the three of us." I clenched my fist against my forehead and gritted my teeth, wishing there was someone around to stab or punch. Anything to take my anger out on. Suddenly, I felt her tiny hand on my shoulder. I shivered, fearing that the dam would break. She was so sweet and gentle and I was so tired of being strong, and for a second, I thought I wou
ld just lose it, and cry like a baby on her shoulder, but... no. The dam held. I sighed, pulling my defenses back together. "Thanks, Candy."
"Sure, Ty. No problem."
She stuck around for the whole afternoon. I felt like I was in middle school again or something. We played games, for Christ sake. I was a twenty-eight-year-old gang boss with a knife in my pocket and a world of hate in my heart, and here I was on a mundane, cloudy Saturday afternoon, playing Risk with this beautiful girl. It was so weird. We didn't even talk too much. It was kinda nice. She asked a few questions about me and my life, but when I didn't answer too thoroughly, she took the hint that I didn't wanna talk about myself and so, she stopped. She didn't seem to get upset or offended nor did she make any passive-aggressive remarks. She just smiled and said, "Okay," and finished setting up her armies on the board. And we just played Risk. She talked a little about herself, but not too much. I think she was as happy as I was to just... be.
By the time Ma came back, I was more relaxed than I had been in months. Ma didn't notice, though, she was giddy as a teenage girl as she whisked away into her bedroom and changed into her brand-new dress. I hardly even noticed her, honestly, because I was so focused on Candy and our game.
"Ta-dah!" Ma cried, appearing in the kitchen doorway. I turned around to see her wearing a burgundy-colored dress. It was sleeveless, but the neck went all the way up, and it had some kind of glittery, bead-y design on the front.
"Very nice," Candy said, grinning, "you look wonderful, Mrs. Franklin."
"Call me Judy, I'm having my... what's it called, renaissance? What's the opposite of a mid-life crisis? I feel young again, I feel wonderful."
"Ya look terrific, Ma."
"Thank you, honey." Ma came over and kissed me on the head, and it felt kinda weird for Candy to be seeing all this. "I even bought high heels to go with it!"
"Not Salvation Army?" I grumbled. "You're supposed to have new stuff."
Pursuit: A Bad Boy Romance Page 63
