Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  “We’ll be outside,” the officer that walked him to the room announces, closing the door behind him.

  “Thank you for coming.” His sad, way-worn eyes stare at me. “How are you doing, Porter? I haven’t heard any new music from you.”

  “I stopped, at least for a while.” I lightly tap the metal table, trying to find a rhythm, searching for some internal music to take over the deafening void settling inside my chest. This probably wasn’t a good idea. That hatred I harbored for him is gone; there’s nothing for him. Not a feeling. Is this how James feels about me? Nothing? My lungs collapse and I want to run away from this enclosed space, search for an outlet to calm myself.

  “Everything okay, son?” I nod. “You look troubled. I hope it isn’t the visit; it was never my intention to open old wounds. But I wanted to . . .” he shrugs. “Leave in peace.”

  “Leave?”

  “Cancer,” he says, dropping his gaze toward the table. My hands curl and uncurl unable to stay in one position with the news. His words are like a bullet hitting me straight in my gut. “Stage four colon cancer; make sure you get tested often. They found it late, and it metastasized, it’s just a matter of time before I . . . go.”

  Until today, I haven’t given him a lot of thought. Not with all the fucked up shit I did for the past ten years. I barely remember my old life before the accident. At the tender age of four, I lost everything, and now, I have no memories from those years. The images of my mother and siblings are gone forever, I can’t remember what she looked like, but I do remember her love. That part is forever ingrained in my heart.

  On instinct, I grab his clenched hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “No, don’t feel sorry for me, boy. I’m ready to leave. There’s another life, a better life after this one.” He touches his chest. “In my heart, I know God forgives me. Leaving is easy, but leaving without your forgiveness is hard. And I want to make sure you found your way.” His lips fight a smile, but they don’t stretch far enough.

  “I found a way, don’t worry about me,” I tell him, because there’s no place in the world of happiness for people like us. Family is out of reach and second chances are for those who deserve them. Not me. Mac’s face appears for a few seconds, but the image vanishes the same way she did.

  “Life is good,” I assure him.

  “Your eyes look lonely.” He sets his bony fingers on top of mine. “If you’re not happy, it’s never too late. Make it a good life, Porter. Live as if every day is the last. Be grateful every morning for the chance to reinvent yourself and every night for what you received—never go to bed with any regrets.”

  Old memories flash as he speaks. AJ’s mesmerizing eyes appear behind my eyelids. The girl gave meaning to my life. My love songs, the meaning of every note and word I’d written. Then her parents and her brothers followed. Regrets . . . I regret losing the only family that I’ve known. When I open my eyes, the only one I see is my father. Because of him, I lost so much. Yes, people like us, we don’t deserve to escape the hell.

  “Some don’t deserve forgiveness,” I say. He flinches. “Though I wish that you find peace.”

  “Sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” I say, because he’s dying and he doesn’t deserve any cruel words. “We’re good.”

  “No. I’m sorry that you live in the same darkness I lived in once.” He touches my hand again. “Change, son. As long as there’s life, there’s hope.” My mouth doesn’t have a response to what he said. “Try to visit before . . .” I nod, as his strained voice disappears. “Thank you.”

  He exits the same way he came. Opening old wounds, bad memories splatter all over the floor. I need a fucking smoke. Pushing myself out of the chair, I leave. I’m not sure when I’ll be strong enough to come back again. I hope my visit brought him some peace.

  My trip to Alabama left me with a hole in my pocket and my heart. The thirty-six-hour drive cost five hundred dollars for the two stops and meals. Not counting the money, I didn’t earn a dime while on the road. The visit with Steve didn’t feel like a successful one. Did I fuck up? Should I have said more than I did?

  Poor man, he’s dying and the last thing he wanted was peace. I could’ve given him more than I did, yet I refused. Like a total asshole. Maybe it’s true; people can’t change. As I turn onto North East Holman, I click the remote to open the garage, but slam on the breaks as I spot Harper on her bike. My heart races as I witness the action in front of me and I can’t do anything but watch. Everything happens in slow motion; she loses control of the bike and is toppling over Finn who is close by. Fuck. I finally react, throwing the truck into park running toward them.

  As I reach them, I hear the screams, the cries laced with pain. Pulling Harper up, I check that she’s not hurt, but Finn isn’t as lucky. His face is pressed against the concrete, his body under the bike. I hold Harp with one arm while trying to move the metal away from him so I can take him into my arms.

  “Finn,” I hear Mackenzie’s voice before I see her arms reaching for him, pressing him against her.

  While she tends to Finn, I check Harper again. “Are you okay?” I ask as she nods. Her lip is quivering and her eyes are filling with tears. Her small arms reach for my neck and I hold her tight. “Everything is okay, you’re safe now.” She rests her head on my shoulder and continues crying.

  My attention then goes to Mackenzie and Finn; she’s looking at his arm, which looks crooked. Her eyes close for a moment while tears fall down her cheeks.

  “Is Molly in the house?” I ask her, as she shakes her head. “Give me a few minutes; I have to grab a few things from my room before we leave.”

  I don’t wait for a response, with Harper in my arms, I go to Molly’s place, grab some snacks, my iPad, and two pairs of headphones. Then grab the first aid kit from the bathroom, so Mac can clean his face scrapes while I drive. Finally taking Mackenzie’s emergency keys from the key holder, I head to the minivan where I settle Harper into her booster seat. Once she’s secure, I go back to where Mackenzie is holding Finn.

  “Babe, we have to take him to the hospital,” I whisper, taking him from her arms and holding him tight to my chest. He’s whimpering too, and I wish I could do something to take the pain away. “Sport, don’t worry. I’m here and I’m going to take you to the doctor. They’re going to set your arm and you’ll be good as new in no time.”

  Holding my hand out to Mackenzie, I help her stand up. “Let’s get going, Harp is waiting for us in the car.”

  A few hours later, after some x-rays, and a cast, we’re on our way home. The ride was short and silent. When we arrived, Mac took them to bed. It was time for me to go home, but I wanted to stay the night to make sure they were okay. I didn’t know how much I missed them until I turned onto the street and felt anxious to see them. Find out how their week was. I just wanted to see them. But shit, what met me was a nightmare. The fact that I couldn’t reach them in time to prevent their accident flipped my stomach and squeezed my heart.

  Not having insurance affected the speed of the emergency room. They didn’t deny us, but they certainly weren’t in a hurry to help us either. Once our turn came, the doctor sent us to the x-ray department where they confirmed that my little boy had broken his wrist. A clean cut, they only needed to set it and cast it. As I held him during the ordeal, Harper remained glued to Porter.

  Porter, the man I missed for an entire week. I worried that I wouldn’t see him again because he left without a word, without a goodbye. Six and a half days with this crushing pain of the unknown. Fearing the worst because he hadn’t been himself for several days before leaving. After he asked me to give him some time to work through his issues, he disappeared. Seeing him in one piece alleviates the fear, but not the anger. A phone call, a text. Some kind of sign to let me know that he was fine would’ve been enough.

  Shit. I want to slip into his arms and feel them around me. Thank him for standing next to me during
an emergency—supporting me. His presence, his steady voice, and occasional caresses anchored me during these past few hours. I have no idea what I’d have done without him.

  It’s been two long, strenuous years without support, trying to keep my head above water when everything was pulling me to the bottom of the sea. Today, I took refuge under someone’s shelter. I borrowed a place to safeguard myself from the storm. A place where I’d like to stay for a few more minutes, days . . . but can I?

  “You know, sometimes even the strongest person is allowed to lean on something—or someone,” Porter says, opening his arms. Without giving it a thought, my feet move, one in front of the other until I’m nestled into his chest. As his warm, strong arms close the cocoon, I let go of everything that I carry on my back. Tears prickle my eyes, but I hold them together until he speaks again, “I got you, Mac, let it go. Give yourself one night to fall apart, I promise to help you put the pieces back together. For a few moments let me care for you. Allow me to be your rock, if only for one night.”

  My determination fades and the tears flow freely. He bends his head, his hot breath warming my face as his lips seek mine. The moment they touch; I give into him. It’s a slow, gentle, heartwarming kiss that touches each curve of my body, my heart, and my soul. For tonight, the broken-defeated woman is standing in one piece, letting her worries disappear and seeing herself in another dimension with someone that will be there by her side.

  “I thought you left us like daddy,” Harper’s syrupy voice makes my eyes flutter open.

  The sunlight slipping through the windows makes me squint as I sit up. Shit, it’s the morning already. Pushing myself up from the couch, I walk to where the noise is coming from. My kids sit at the kitchen table eating scrambled eggs with pancakes on the side. Porter faces the stove. By the looks of the stack of pancakes on the counter, I guess he’s flipping a few more before he sits to share breakfast with the kids.

  “Morning,” I say, kissing Harper’s little head, then walk to Finn who is holding a piece of bacon in his hand. “How’s your arm, baby?” Finn lets out a loud breath and continues eating his bacon.

  Porter turns around, holding a plate similar to Harper’s; he sets it on the table and pulls the chair out. “Breakfast?”

  The short brown strands of his wet hair, combined with those cocoa color eyes remind me of last night. His arms around me, his soft gaze holding mine, and his body cradling me as I let him care for me. All innocent, yet my body heated. I must confess there wasn’t anything PG about the places my mind traveled as his scent became one of my favorite aromas.

  Pushing away those thoughts, I blurt, “You cook?”

  “I can’t believe you still doubt me. You’re in for a treat. Breakfast is my strongest suit,” he confides. “My foster parents believe that’s the most important meal of the day. They made sure we always spent the first minutes of the day together while preparing the meal or setting the table.”

  “You miss them.” It’s a statement, not a question. Each time he speaks of them, I feel the sadness in his heart.

  He shrugs. “Eat.”

  “I should be at work,” I counter, looking down at Finn. Worried that he isn’t able to tell me if something hurts or where it hurts.

  “I called the flower shop earlier to let them know about Finn,” Porter says, taking my hand and guiding me to my seat, pushing the chair in after I sit down. “You went to sleep late and he needs you by his side for a few days.” He scratches the back of his head. “A couple of days won’t affect you, he needs you.”

  I look toward Finn, and the moment I’m about to apologize for being such a bitch, I hear Porter’s voice. “Yes. Speaking.” My eyes move to where he’s standing, he’s holding his phone over his ear and his brows furrow, his jaw tightening along with his back. “I . . .” He closes his eyes, his shoulders slump and he presses his lips forcefully. “Yes, if that’s what he wished. That’s the address. Thank you for letting me know.”

  He shoves the phone back in his pocket, opening his eyes. Regret and sorrow reflect through them.

  “Bad news?”

  “Later,” he answers abruptly. It’s not mean, but the warmth of his voice is gone. Harper springs out of her seat and her thin, delicate arms grab on to his waist. Porter hugs her back, looking down at her for a few seconds before he picks her up and holds her against him. “Thank you.” The words sound like more than gratitude and appreciation, but I bite back any other questions for later.

  “How is he?” Porter asks as I walk down the stairs. He’s sprawled on the couch, holding his guitar.

  “Asleep,” I answer. “Thank you for staying with him all day.”

  After breakfast, Finn and Harper remained close to Porter. Finn wouldn’t leave Porter’s arms. I don’t blame him; they’re made out of steel and heavenly clouds.

  “No worries, he wasn’t feeling well.” He answers, trying to sound normal but the edge to his voice doesn’t change. He’s been like that since the phone call he received during breakfast.

  “What happened?” I ask, sitting next to him.

  “My father. He died yesterday night.” Oh, no. I bring the tips of my fingers to my lips, wondering what to say. He’s never talked about his father. In fact, I thought he was dead like the rest of his family. His eyes close as his head leans against the couch. My hand reaches for his arm and I squeeze it gently. “This just shows that everyone is right. Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

  I don’t get why he says that, who is the asshole here, him, or his father? “You?” I question, before assuming any further.

  “Yes, me.” He hands me a wrinkled paper. “I went to visit him three days ago. He needed something from me and I refused to give it to him. You think that after all the shit I’ve lived through, I’d know that life changes in a blink of an eye.”

  I hold in the gasp as I read the letter. His father caused the accident where his mother died? My heart bleeds for the poor little boy. “That’s where you went, to visit him?”

  He nods lightly. “One more regret added to the list,” he says with a heavy voice. “He needed one thing before he died. Only one and I was a fucking asshole and denied it to him.”

  “What else is on your list?”

  “The Deckers,” he responds. I’ve no idea who the Deckers are and, instead of asking, I hold his hand and caress it hoping that he’d give me more information. “My foster family loved me unconditionally. They picked me up when I was homeless. Gave me the tools to become a better man and I was an ungrateful son of a bitch that hurt them with what they love the most—their daughter, AJ. Then there’s AJ.” He rubs his face with both hands, then pulls up his sleeves slightly and stares at his wrists.

  “If I could go back and . . .” His head drops.

  “Leo and I fought the morning he died,” I confess that one thing that no one knows. “Instead of giving him a kiss goodbye, I glared at him for not taking out the fucking trash. It sounds stupid and because of that, I regret not giving him one last kiss because I was stubborn. If I could, I’d go back but I can’t.”

  “Sorry, about that. It must be hard to get over it, when the last time you were with him you were upset at him.” He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and speaks. “No, when I say go back, I meant back to see them. I was warned to stay away from them.”

  “By them?” He shakes his head. “Then who? By the sounds of it, they’re nice people and you always love your children no matter what they do. Take the chance, don’t waste time and live with that regret for whatever time you have left.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Plus, I would need money to take the time off,” he explains. “The bills for the hospital will arrive soon.”

  I frown and wonder if he means his father’s bills. But before I ask, he pulls me into his arms and I don’t fight him. Tonight he needs me just as much as I need him. Using a broken man to hold my shattered pieces isn’t smart, but using my brain is the last thing I want to do. Giving myself anot
her hall pass, I snuggle myself in his arms, enjoying the safe haven they provide.

  “I have to go to bed,” Mackenzie says, snuggling closer to my body. “You need to leave.” My arms tighten their hold, as if trying to keep her from leaving me.

  Yes, going to my room next door is the right thing to do. But tonight, I need her soft curves against my body to wash away my past and patch together my shattered heart. Steven died and what punched me in the chest were the memories of the Deckers. Some years ago, Gabe had an episode and the rumors of his death spread like wildfire during a drought. I flew to Santa Barbara fearing that I lost him. Which I did, that’s when the truth of what a fucking asshole I had been came to light.

  Facing the consequences included losing the only family I’ve ever known. Today, Mac and her amazing children are the ones making me stay in one piece. Sober. Because the idea of not being able to say I’m sorry to the Deckers or saying goodbye before my life is over is killing me. What if today was my last day?

  I’d want a repeat of Harper’s birthday, ending it with Mackenzie tangled with me. Holding her, talking to her, and being close to her makes me whole. Happy. For some fucking reason I want to tell her that if I only have a day left, I’d prefer to spend it with her—Harper and Finn, too. Fantasizing that they’re mine to protect and love. In this make believe world we’d make love after a tiring day like today. But I don’t know if she’s ready for a new relationship. Or if she feels something for me.

  Pretending that she belongs to me, is reaching a new level of crazy. I want to offer her everything while I beg her to pretend that she cares for me as much as I do for her. This small beautiful woman crashed into my life reminding me of the good things that have happened to me. She’s one of the best things happening now. Real or not, I have her tonight. And like yesterday, I take advantage of our vulnerability and hold her, pretending she’s mine. She’s the lifeline I have for now, because I refuse to end like Steven. Alone and loveless.