Chapter 11
I’ve been lounging around the house all day in my tank top and pajama pants. It’s the weekend, so I’m enjoying the time I have to lie around, relaxing the best I can. I finished one of the romance novels I have been reading for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been stuffing my face with junk food, and I took a long hot bubble bath. Now I’m lying on the couch, about to start one of my chick flicks.
The doorbell rings so, sighing, I get up to go answer the door. My eyes widen in shock; Hacker is standing here in front of me. “You need to leave.” I start to shut the door, but he stops it from closing, and with the force of his strength it effortlessly opens back up.
“I just wanna talk.”
I choke on a laugh. “You wanna talk?” I repeat his question.
“Can we call a truce?”
“Call a truce? After everything you’ve put me through, I don’t think so.” Shaking my head, I try to shut the door once again, but of course, he stops it.
“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? I was wrong for blaming you. I was wrong for everything I did to you. Now can we just fuckin’ talk?” Pfft, he sounds real sincere with that apology. It’s gotta be some kind of trick; there’s no way he would just show up out of the blue to really say he’s sorry.
“Sisi?” Oh, shit! I turn around to face Mark.
“Just a second, Mark.” I turn back to Hacker. “Now’s not a good time. I have to go.” I don’t bother shutting the door this time. Hacker can shut it himself.
I rush over to my brother. “Mark, what do you need?”
“I have to go home now, Cash and Kyra are waiting for me. Where’s my keys?”
“No, Mark, this is your home. You and Cash live here, and have for the last three years.” I reach out, touching my brother’s arm, but he knocks my hand away.
He begins shouting, “No! This isn’t my home.”
“Mark, please,” I beg. Today is a bad day.
“I’m going home, you can’t keep me here!” He starts for the front door, but Hacker stops him by wrapping his arms around Mark’s chest. Shit! I thought he left. “Who are you? Let me go!” Mark snaps his head in my direction. “Is he here to take me away? He can’t take me!” My brother fights against him, but Hacker’s built like a brick and it does nothing to faze him.
“Dad!” Cash yells behind us. He must have heard the commotion.
Mark calms at the sound of Cash’s voice and slowly turns his head in his son’s direction. “Cash? What are you doing here? You should be home with your mom.” Hacker must feel the change in demeanor; he slowly releases Mark.
Cash walks over, taking his father’s hand. “Mom’s not there, Dad; we live here with Sierra.”
“We do?” Mark’s facial features turn to confusion.
“Yeah, we do.” Cash’s eyes are filled with sadness.
Mark begins coming back to the present. “Kyra passed away.” His eyes fill with tears.
“Yes, Dad. Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” Cash continues to hold his dad’s hand; I watch them walk away. Tears burn my eyes. Cash is so young, but so strong.
“What the hell just happened?” My gaze snaps to Hacker. Again, I forgot he was here.
I’m too tired to fight and honestly I would like resentment to be over. “Want a drink?”
“I think so.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand over his hair.
He follows me into the kitchen. “All I have is wine, so I hope that’s okay,” I say as I reach for two wineglasses.
“Guess it’ll do.” Even when he’s trying to be relaxed, Hacker still has that powerful tone.
I fill the two glasses and hand him one. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning. I came to your club not knowing it was your club. I needed money because three years ago I went through a nasty divorce and Stephen took half of our savings. Most of what I had left went into lawyer fees and medical bills. Four years ago, Mark called me to take Cash one night because Cash had gotten in trouble and Mark aggressively grabbed his arm. It wasn’t like my brother and he knew something was wrong, plus there was other stuff happening with Mark. That started years of doctor appointments, tests, psychologists, medications, scans, and a load of other things. He was wrongly diagnosed several times and we just got the correct diagnosis six months ago.”
Hacker’s brows pull down and he takes a sip from his wineglass. “What’s the diagnosis?”
“He has early-onset Alzheimer’s. Hacker, he’s only in his forties, and younger than me by a couple years. About three and a half years ago, he and Cash moved in with me and Stephen because he started forgetting things. His doctor said it was unsafe for him to live by himself, especially with Cash. My brother had to give up his job, he had no savings, and he had no insurance. I privately pay a caregiver to sit with him during the day. Shelly’s an old friend from the hospital—she sits with him at night. And another nurse comes three days a week. I take care of Cash because Mark can’t. My brother is progressively getting worse, but I can’t bear to put him in a facility.”
“Damn.” His hazel eyes connect with my green ones. “I apologize for how I treated you.” I see he means it; I see the sincerity, and maybe a little regret.
I finish off my glass of wine and pour another. “I understand why you’re angry; do you know how many times I have wanted to cuss out those doctors and tell them to do their fucking jobs? Hundreds, but I would never humiliate, embarrass, taunt, scare, or try to destroy them with my words like you have me.” I cock my brow; waiting for a snide remark.
“I know and truly, I’m sorry. I never took into consideration what you could be going through. I’m an asshole and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” That is not at all what I was expecting.
“Thank you for your apology.” I give him a small smile before it falls. “That night broke me; you have to believe that I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save him. That night was the last night I worked in the ER. I changed my career because it destroyed me watching your little boy lose his life.” Water pools in my eyes. A stray tear trails down my cheek.
“I knew you changed your career, but I never knew why. It means something to me that you never forgot him.” He finishes off his glass, so I tip the bottle towards it, but he shakes his head.
“Sometimes I wonder if death is better coming on all of a sudden. Mark is slowly dying to one of the most horrific diseases someone can experience. Cash, being so young, has to watch his dad lose his mind, eventually his ability to speak, walk, and function. One day he won’t recognize either of us, and there’s no fixing him. There’s no miraculous cure, no hoping he’ll get better, no way to slow the disease down. We just have to sit back and wait until the disease takes him from us, leaving Cash without his parents. I don’t understand why life is so cruel.” More tears fall.
Hacker reaches up with his thumbs, wiping them away. I stand stock-still, frozen, half from not knowing what to do and half out of shock. He says, “I don’t think we’ll ever have an answer to that question. I want to make it up to you for how I treated you and I want to help you. I’m offering you a job at Stilettos.” He drops his hands from my face.
My mouth gapes open. “You’re going to let me dance?”
He leans against the kitchen counter. “Fuck no, you’re not dancin’. I’m giving you the manager job.”
“You said that job was filled.” I arch my brow.
He looks down at his boots and back up with a hint of a smile. “I lied.”
“I’ll take it, but what if I need to leave to deal with a patient?”
“Just let me know, we’ll figure it out.”
I finish off my second glass and set it on the counter next to his. “This is definitely not how I expected tonight to go. Thank you, Hacker.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He chuckles. “Who would have thought we can have a civilized conversation? Come by the club tomorrow night and we’ll get you started.”
“Sounds good.” I proudly wear my megawatt smile. I can’t believe he really is going to help me.
I walk to the front door with Hacker and show him out. Just as Shelly walks up.
“Who is that?” she mumbles. We stand on the front porch watching Hacker leave on his motorcycle. She practically has drool running down her chin.
“Long story. Let’s have a glass of wine and I’ll tell you all about it.” Shelly follows me inside and straight to the kitchen.
I put Hacker’s glass in the sink, grab another for Shelly, and pour the sweet red wine in. We move into the living room, sit on the couch, and I go through the whole story from the beginning, not stopping until the end.
Her jaw should be hitting the floor with how wide her mouth is open when I finish. “So, that was the father of the little boy we couldn’t save?”
I reply, “Yep.”
“Damn.”
“Yep.”
“And now after years of being a shithead to you he’s apologizing?” Her brow arches in skepticism.
“Yep.”
“And you’re going to go work with him?”
“Yep.”
“Woman, if you don’t quit saying yep…” Shelly shakes her head.
Laughing, I respond, “I can’t help it. I think I’m still in shock. It was just so weird and out of the blue.”
She reaches over and squeezes my arm in comfort. “Well, if he tries any funny business you have your gun. And this might be really inappropriate, but that man looks good.”
“Shelly!” I scold. “So inappropriate.” I shake my head with a laugh.
“You going to tell me you haven’t had thoughts like that? Even if he was a shithead?”
“None.” And that is not a lie. I was always too busy running from him to really notice his looks.
“Guess you’re better than me.” She smiles then takes another drink.
We spend a few more hours talking and drinking, and then we end up watching the movie I was about to start earlier.
It felt good talking to someone about everything that has happened, that’s going on, and the way I feel. I’ve known Shelly for years and she knew parts, but not everything. Maybe it’s time I should call the ladies?