CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAYDEN
I’m up before the sun rises. It’s nothing new. Three days out of five I’m on the field by now, the dew still beaded under my boots, the air calm and quiet.
But it’s the weekend. Even Coach can’t touch that.
I look across at Indy. She lies face down, a small smile on her face. I let my fingers hover over the scars on her shoulder. If I had known…
I hold my side, still tender from the beating Dwayne and his crew delivered me, but they’re going to get what’s coming to them.
It’s crazy. Everything is crazy. Hunter’s in the hospital. Colton’s been expelled. I’m fucking adopted. And Indy? To think of what she’s been through. It’s not over for her. She’s simply trying to get on with her life as best she can. She didn’t have to tell me anything — she probably shouldn’t have — but I’m glad she did, so I too can bear a small part of that pain, her burden.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to her, brushing a loose strand of hair back over her ear, amazed by the symmetry, the delicacy of it.
Perfect.
I head downstairs expecting to be greeted by at least Colton, but I’m alone. There are over thirty missed calls and texts on my phone, everyone from Coach to Colton himself. I go to dial my brother back, but move my thumb from the screen at the last moment realizing I don’t know what the hell to say. ‘Oh, hey, it’s your fake brother here. Sorry I can’t help Hunter.’
I’m angry. I won’t deny it. Being a Beckett is my identity. It is who I am. What am I without it?
You’re the same. You know that.
I think about my birth parents, consider why they would give me up, abandon me to…
It could have been worse.
I might track them down in time, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about at the moment.
I call the hospital direct.
“I’m sorry,” says the nurse. “I can only provide that information to direct family.”
“I’m his brother,” I reply, “Cayden Beckett.” The name and connection seem oddly alien now.
“One moment.”
A voice. “Fucker.”
It’s Colton.
I rub my forehead. “I’m not in the mood, Colton. Is the doctor there?”
Colton the prankster departs. “Look, Cay, I understand why you left. That was fucking heavy what we dropped on you, and I’m sorry you had to find out that way, I really am, but you have to push it aside. Hunter needs you. He needs his brothers. Dad sure as fuck isn’t going to be appearing anytime soon.”
“You’ve been with him this whole time?”
“I wasn’t going to leave him here alone, was I? And he’s cut up, bro, really cut up about what happened. Do you think that’s fair? He’s the one with the shitty blood disease and you won’t even see him?”
Colton’s right, of course, but I can’t bring myself to capitulate. “I’ve got to deal with this in my own way.”
“By running? Forget it. Man up.”
“I can’t. It’s a big deal.”
“No, brother, it’s not. So what we don’t share the same blood. Who fucking cares? We grew up together. You bashed Tim Scott in sixth grade because he took my Transformer. You taught me how to pick up girls, how to smoke my first joint.”
I smile at the memory. “We almost burnt the house down.”
“The maid had a fucking fit when she found out.”
“What was her name?”
“Adria—tits like melons.”
“I remember.”
“So why does it matter?” he continues. “We have something better than blood, a real bond. We’re the fucking Beckett brothers, Cay. Forget Dad, Mom, all that bullshit and focus on your real family.”
I can’t believe my baby brother is speaking sense right now. “Is this really Colton Beckett? Because he sounds oddly coherent.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too,” I reply with affection. “So, Hunter. How is he?”
“He’ll live. I’m going ahead with this transplant thing. They’re about to start the tests.”
“You need me to come down?”
“Nah, I’ve got it, but at least send Hunter a dick pic or something. Poor bastard’s bored out of his mind.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, bro.”
I go to say something back, but Colton’s already hung up.
“How is he?”
I spin. Indy’s standing on the bottom step of the staircase—nude.
I frame her up with my fingers. “And you’re sure you won’t let me take a picture of you? My spank bank’s running on empty. Hunter’s got an old Polaroid upstairs. We could go full Terry Richardson on this shit.”
She walks over with a sultry swing of her hips, straddling me on the bar stool, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Someone’s in a better mood.”
I look down between us where my cock’s growing hard wedged up against her. “Are you talking about me or my little friend here?”
“There’s nothing little about it.” She sniffs the air. “What’s for breakfast?”
I take hold of her ass and stand up. I’m amazed at how light she is, a feather in my hands.
I place her on the edge of the bench. “I’m hungry, but bacon and eggs aren’t going to satisfy my particular craving this morning.”
I nudge my nose against her neck, her silky hair fanning across my face.
She holds me back. “Why don’t you let me cook you something?”
I laugh. “This isn’t Home Economics. I do know how to make a hot breakfast.”
“I want to,” she says, looking over to the coffee machine. “Coffee first. How do you like it?”
I squeeze her ass. “Milky. Sweet.”
She shoves me away completely and gets down, moving into the kitchen.
I watch her make the coffee, her cute, button ass forcing my cock into flagpole formation.
I take a seat. “I could get used to this”
“What’s that?”
“Having a live-in maid. You know, back in New York we had this one maid, Adri—”
I stop when the neighbor’s dog barks, hearing something else out on the street that doesn’t seem to gel with the otherwise peaceful surroundings.
Indy turns when I don’t finish the sentence, her dime-sized nipples desperately in need of my mouth. “Cayden?”
“Wait there,” I tell her.
I walk over to the front window and pull the curtain aside.
There’s an SUV out there, the driver’s window down just enough for a wispy trail of smoke to leave the cabin. Someone’s in there.
I look closer. Are they watching the house?
I close the curtains a little and face the kitchen. “Did anyone know you were coming here last night?” I ask Indy. “Did you tell anyone?”
She pops a capsule into the coffee machine. “Only Naomi.”
Naomi, but I doubt she’s in on anything.
You’re being paranoid.
But there’s something about it, this particular car, the windows darker than the asphalt it sits on.
I head upstairs.
“Cayden? Where are you going?”
I grab the first pair of pants I can find, pulling them on and rushing down the stairs. “I’m just going to talk to someone across the street. Stay inside, okay?”
She points her hands down at herself. “Does it look like I’m dressed to go out?”
I smile. “Stay right there, baby girl. I’ll be right back for some of that creamy perfection.”
I open the door and close it behind myself, jogging over to the SUV. I check for cars and start to make my way across the road.
I’m almost at the driver’s door when the engine starts and the SUV pulls away. It doesn’t go fast, with tires blazing and rear quarters hunched, but it’s enough to know.
It’s gone before I can make out the plates—except for one, important detail.
They’re from New York.