The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  In medium skillet, sauté chicken in butter until browned; transfer to dish to keep warm.

  Pour wine into skillet and cook over medium-high heat, scraping up any browned bits from the skillet, for about five minutes. Whisk in dressing mixture, blend well. Serve chicken and sauce over pasta. Sprinkle with parsley if desired.

  Clarissa

  The door closes behind Troy, and he glowers at me from where he stands. Parker and I jerk to attention, mouths gaping, from where we sit on the couch. We’ve spent the day in my living room, being total slobs watching chick flicks while eating copious amounts of carbs. We were halfway into some Netflix Original when we heard the screen sound, and the door was unlocked a second before Troy appeared, knocking the wind out of me.

  “You came home early,” is all I can say as his furious eyes rake over me.

  “Where’s Dante?”

  He’s livid, looking gorgeous in black track pants and a matching jacket, his hair slightly mussed from a day of travel.

  “He’s in his room.”

  Troy drops his duffle and pulls his wallet from it. “Parker, could you do me a favor and take Dante for a slushy?”

  “What?” I ask, hearing the fear in my voice. I’ve never seen him so angry.

  “Holy hell,” Parker whispers before standing. “Keep your money, good sir, it’s my treat. Duckie! Troy’s home and we’re going to get a slushy.”

  I tuck my hair behind my ears, knowing I look like hell as he hostilely peruses me. He knows. What? I’m not sure. How much? I have no clue, but if the contempt in his stare is any indication of his discoveries, I’m in for one hell of a fight.

  Dante comes running, and Troy scoops him into his arms, barely able to mask the anger in his tone. “Hey, bud.”

  “I got twelve merch orders because you wored my shirt.”

  “I wore your shirt. And that’s awesome.”

  “Are you getting drafted now?”

  “Hope so. Hey, I really need to talk to Mommy, so Aunt Parker is going to take you to Sonic for a bit, okay?”

  “Ahhh man, you just got here!”

  “We’ll spend the day together tomorrow, okay? Promise.”

  “All day?” Dante prompts.

  “All day. I’ll take you fishing.”

  I clear my throat. “He’s got school tomorrow.”

  “He can miss a day,” Troy says, his voice full of disdain. Parker’s eyes fly to mine, and I swallow.

  Troy sets Dante down. “Go get your shoes on.”

  “K.” Dante grabs his shoes from the entry as Parker twists her hands in front of her. The tension in the room becomes unbearably thick as dread cloaks me. Parker lifts worried eyes to Troy.

  “Uh. Can I just say—”

  “Nope,” Troy cuts her off, eyes still trained on me.

  Parker puckers her lips out and nods. “Dante, forget the shoes, we’re good.”

  “I can’t go without shoes! Don’t be silly, Auntie. I’m almost ready.”

  Parker walks over to where I sit, her eyes wide. “Uh, text me?”

  All I can do is nod.

  “Ready,” Dante says as Troy catches him once more, kneeling to hug him. “See you tomorrow.”

  “K.”

  “Love you,” Troy says, ruffling his hair.

  “Love you,” Dante replies, as Parker ushers him out.

  When the door closes behind them, Troy crosses his arms.

  “How was the spa?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus Christ, Clarissa.”

  “I’m not proud of myself.”

  “But you’re proud of me, right?” His voice is ice. “Did you send a single one of those texts?”

  I close my eyes briefly, both ashamed and terrified of the truth. “No.”

  He fists his hands at his sides. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I panicked.”

  “Because I’ve given you every reason to doubt me, right?”

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Then what!? What is it!?”

  “It’s a culmination of everything. That needle, us, the future.”

  “The future?”

  “Troy, you don’t know what’s going to happen, and you don’t know how you’ll feel about me six months from now.”

  “I think that’s a question you need to ask yourself.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning less than a week ago, I was sure about how you felt. Now I’m not sure about anything anymore when it comes to you.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why, why can’t I? What exactly have we been doing here? I thought we were building something.”

  “We were, we are. It just scared me.”

  “It scared the shit out of me too!”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. It was a reality check. Things are getting serious between us.”

  “That was the whole point!”

  “I’m not pointing a loaded gun at our son’s chest!”

  “Is that what I am now? A goddamn loaded gun?”

  “That’s what this relationship has the potential to be. I freaked. It was wrong, and I’m sorry. I am truly sorry, I should’ve talked it through with you. But Dante—”

  “Stop hiding behind our son! This is about you and your shit. Your trust issues. Your fucking baggage. It has nothing to do with him! This is about us! Our relationship outside of our son.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. There is no relationship outside of him! There never will be. Every word we say, every decision we make, all of it affects him.”

  “There’s an us in there too, Clarissa, but you wouldn’t even give me a fucking chance to defend myself because you’ve deemed yourself judge, jury and executioner, always ready to pass a fucking sentence when I’ve been nothing but transparent with you.”

  “It was wrong to shut down like I did, but Troy, that was my worst fear come to life. It shook me to my core. And I did doubt you, and I was terrified to admit it because of how well things were going, but I haven’t just been sitting here picking you apart in my mind. I’ve been working too—”

  “Yeah, working hard, been busy lying to me.”

  “Who told you I was lying?”

  “Our son. Why don’t you want me feeling guilty?”

  “What?” I’m visibly shaking, and he sees it.

  “Who’s your work friend?”

  “When you left for camp, I ran into some financial trouble. I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you, so I took a job waiting tables for quick cash and decided to aim for something a little more long-term, more lucrative. I’ve been studying to get my realtor’s license, and Brett let me intern—”

  “Brett, as in your ex-boyfriend? You called your ex-boyfriend for help?”

  “It’s not like that. I’ve been working with one of his top realtors while studying for the exam.”

  “And you didn’t think this was something you should let me in on?”

  “Absolutely, but not when you were under so much pressure. The week you left for camp; I got two flat tires, my car broke down, my rent check bounced, and then the fridge went out. I spent my whole tax return fixing it all. Things got tight. I was terrified. It was a wake-up call. I had to do something!”

  “So, you call on another fucking man!?”

  “I did whatever it took to make sure our son had a roof over his head! You inspired me, so I stepped up. This isn’t about Brett! This is about me not depending on—”

  “Me! Not depending on me! Because you still don’t fucking trust me!”

  “You weren’t here! I had to make shit happen. Relying on someone else is not something I’m used to. It’s been that way my whole life! I had to do something! I had to—”

  “You had to trust me. That’s all you had to do,” he says, scooping up his duffle.

  “Troy, I’m sorry. I overreacted. I am sorry. You deserved better. I was planning on talking to you wh
en you got home.”

  “You weren’t there for me when I needed you most. Just for once, couldn’t you put my feelings, my needs before yours?”

  “That’s all I’ve been doing!”

  “The answer is no. You couldn’t. And so, I sent a dick pic to your best friend.”

  “What?”

  “Did you two laugh it up?” He spits in utter disgust.

  “Jesus, no. Of course not, I had no idea. I’m going to kill her. Troy—”

  “Here,” He pulls a folded piece of paper from the mesh of his duffle and hands it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  I scan the paper. It’s a lab report with his name on the top. Results from a drug test at Combine the day after Dante found the syringe. Negative for all substances. “It’s your fucking proof.”

  “Troy, I believed you—”

  “No, you didn’t, and you’ll never fully trust me. Not the way I need you to.”

  He walks over to where I stand and places his key in my palm. “In your eyes, I’ll always be the teenager who lied and got you pregnant, not the man you rely on.”

  I feel myself rip in half as I search his eyes. “Troy, this has gotten way out of hand.”

  He steps back. “I agree.”

  I take one forward, and he shakes his head. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” I swallow. “Don’t now or don’t ever? What are you saying?”

  The decision in his eyes terrifies me. “I’m saying this isn’t going to work out.” He retrieves his duffle and shakes his head. “I’m saying it’s over.”

  “Troy,” I cry as he opens the door and turns back, eyes watering, his resignation clear.

  “You don’t mean it. You’re angry with me. Don’t do this. We’ve overcome so much to be together. I was upset. I had a right to be, but I was always planning on talking to you, hashing it out with you. I just had to calm down, get my bearings. Dante—”

  “Yes, let’s talk about Dante. It’s been seven fucking months. Do you ever plan on telling him I’m his father?”

  “Of course, I was just waiting—”

  “For what? What in the hell are you waiting for?”

  “For us to—”

  “There is no us. Not anymore and not without him, so you better keep that shit in mind.”

  Reeling, I feel my hackles rise. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means don’t even dream of keeping me from my son because of this.”

  “Troy, I would never—”

  “Oh, but you have, haven’t you?”

  I have no defense. None.

  “Just a heads up, those checks you cashed are a paper trail, proof of child support.”

  “What?” I place my hand on my stomach, feeling kicked as bile climbs my throat.

  “I don’t want things to get ugly, but Dante is all that’s between us now, and I refuse to let you hold that over my head anymore.”

  I begin to shake uncontrollably. “Y-you d-don’t mean that.”

  “Do yourself a favor and play fair, and I will too. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Blistering pain rolls through me as I try and grasp the events of the last few minutes. I’m face to face with Troy’s Gemini, and the hardest part is that I know I’m the one who is responsible for bringing it out of him.

  “You would try and take him from me?”

  “Never. But you’re no longer the only parent who gets to make decisions. Get used to it.”

  I shake my head. “You’re not saying this to me.”

  He shrugs as if he hasn’t just stabbed me in the heart. “I guess deep down, I was protecting myself too. How’s that for a one-eighty? In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve realized I. Can’t. Fucking. Trust. You.”

  “You’ve made your point.” My voice cracks, as my heart shatters. “Go.”

  “I’ll pick up Dante in the morning,” and with that, he shuts the door.

  Troy

  “Hey, man, good to have you back,” Kevin says, clapping me on the shoulder.

  “Good to be back,” I lie, scanning the party. Nothing about being here appeals to me. Everything feels fucked personally and everything seems to be going right for me professionally.

  Inside I’m a shell. Outside I’m still the man I’ve always been, a free agent in every sense of the word. Business as usual.

  And I hate every fucking minute of it.

  She’s with him.

  The same thought eats me from the inside out and has been for hours as I sip my beer to try and numb up. But I’m deluding myself. Nothing is working. Nothing.

  Dante senses the separation between his mother and me, but he’s none the wiser about our relationship or lack thereof. We were right to keep it hidden. It’s been weeks since I handed back her key. The consistent stab I feel every time I open my eyes in the morning is enough to end me. The ache worsens when I turn over in my bed to see Clarissa readying Dante for another day, another day without me.

  Aside from being close to my son, I hate my living situation and can’t wait until the semester is over. I want no part of existing in this house the way things are. Theo’s head is in the fucking clouds, hence why he agreed to let me throw this get together, and Lance already has one foot out the door.

  I’m about to get drafted, graduate with my degree, and live my dream.

  Inside this full circle, I’m empty.

  And it’s pure fucking torture.

  She’s with him.

  Finishing school and snatching my diploma feels like a sentence, much like loving a woman who can’t give me the whole of herself. But I refuse to pay any more for crimes I didn’t commit. And every day, I battle with the guilt of just how much I hurt her with my threats and the way I left things.

  When I confronted her, I was unreasonably angry and rightfully so.

  It was all take and no give with her, and I’d hit my fucking limit.

  And the feeling of seeing her now is both dose and withdrawal, either side of a prison I can’t seem to escape.

  This unrequited love shit is for the birds.

  But wasn’t it love we had? What we felt?

  Wanting this woman is torture. Loving this woman is fucking humiliating.

  This shit has to end, but lately, I can’t seem to breathe without the air scraping the rawness in my chest. The hurt only fuels my anger. I’m drowning in resentment, teetering on the brink of love and hate for her. All of that effort, everything I did to earn my family, was for nothing.

  Because she’s with him.

  And right now, I’d give anything, do anything, to make this ache in my chest cease.

  We haven’t spoken. No words, just texts, and all of them about Dante. She’s working her ass off. I know that much by the absence of her SUV in the late hours of the night. She hasn’t once looked my way when we’ve crossed paths, and I know it has everything to do with my threats. It’s as if I took the knife from my own heart and drove it straight into her back. I went there, to a place she’s not likely to forgive me for. And I did it purposefully, eradicating our chances because, without trust, we have nothing. And with that decision, that’s exactly what we are, nothing. But today she threw the dagger back the second she got into that BMW. The proverbial nail in our coffin.

  With the work done and the start of my future mere weeks away, I can’t seem to take a step forward or in any direction.

  I need something other than the constant need I battle with daily, to be close, to reclaim my family, my place. But it’s no longer mine, so instead, I reach for my next beer.

  And that’s when I see her, my mystery girl, sauntering up to my party. Her sudden appearance jars me, and I take it as a sign. And this time, I won’t take no for an answer.

  Diane’s Pasta Salad

  Sales Rep-Rhode Island

  Makes 8 servings

  30 minutes

  Tri-Color Pasta (or pasta of your choice)

  Zesty Italian Dressing (Preferably Kraft or Wal
-Mart brand)

  Mozzarella Cheese – cut into cubes

  Broccoli Florets

  Cauliflower Florets

  Sliced Olives

  Cherry Tomatoes – Halved (or diced tomatoes)

  Purple Onion – Chopped

  Ham or Salami – cubed

  The amount of each ingredient depends on number of people to be served. One package of pasta makes enough for a family.

  Mix all ingredients adding Italian Dressing to taste.

  Chill for a few hours before serving.

  Clarissa

  Parker: You need to come home. Now. Some shit just went down next door. Something’s wrong.

  “Where are you tonight?” Brett says, sipping his coffee.

  I close my laptop, satisfied with my progress. “Brett, I need to get home. Something’s come up. I’m sorry. I’m going to have to cut this short.”

  “Sure.” Ever the gentleman, he helps me slip on my coat and opens my car door. Once inside, he glances over at me as he starts the drive toward my house.

  “There’s a spring carnival coming up. What do you think about us going together? Maybe bringing Dante?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighs, pulling up to a stoplight. “I figured as much.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes. Very much so. But you should know when you and I started dating, I had the same intentions you did.”

  “It’s fine,” he glances over at me. “I waited too long and it cost me.”

  “Please tell me we can be friends. You did me a huge favor tonight and I’m thankful for all your help.”

  “Of course, and don’t worry, you’re ready. You’ll do great.”

  “Thank you. I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be. And as soon as you pass, we’ll get you situated somewhere.”

  “I can’t take a job at your agency, Brett.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable. I hope you understand.”