Chapter Seventeen
Jaxon
If it weren’t for Germaine practically manhandling me out the door, I wouldn’t be at this party. The idea of being in the Kappa Phi house, surrounded by slutty costumes on the girls and overly macho costumes on the guys and sometimes vice versa, didn’t sound appealing. I’d rather be with Annika.
I knew she wouldn’t darken the door of a place like this, especially with it being this crowded, but I needed to appease my best friend. So here I am. It’s as bad as I expected.
Sure, I’ve had some laughs with my friends, slapped backs with some guys I haven’t seen in a while, even struck up a few conversations with people I see on campus. But it doesn’t hold the same appeal anymore, all because my girl isn’t here.
I finally admitted it to myself the other day. I’ve fallen for her. I’ve fallen for her resilience and her strength. I’ve fallen for her calm demeanor. I’ve fallen for her drive and her motivation. I’ve even fallen for her loyalty to her favorite team, despite being sorely misguided on who the best team in the NFL actually is.
I’ve fallen in love with her, and I want to be where she is every minute of every day. I guess that’s what it’s supposed to be like when you fall in love.
My dad used to tell me parties were more appealing when he was playing the field. But once he only had eyes for my mom, that was it. No party could hold his attention compared to her.
He was right. I’ve smiled politely, made conversation with no less than three girls who have hung on my arm. But it doesn’t matter how much cleavage the sexy devil shoves in my face or how many times the naughty nurse offers to take my temperature. They’re still not the one I want.
The one I want is at home, dressed in baggy sweats without a stitch of makeup on, studying. Who knew that could be such a turn on?
A half-dressed girl stumbles through the room catching my attention. It’s clear she’s very, very drunk. She’s laughing and smiling, but as I glance around the room, I realize I’m not the only guy watching her, and most of them are leering. It shocks me, knowing that any guy in this room could be a predator. I never noticed it before tonight.
“Why are you staring at that girl, man?” Germaine leans over and yells in my ear. “You kind of look like a creeper.”
Taking a sip of my beer, I keep my eyes on her. “Dude, she is seriously trashed.”
“Yeah?” he questions, obviously not understanding what I’m getting at.
“Where are her friends?”
“I don’t know, man. We’re all friends here.” He slaps me on the back, emphasizing his point. But he’s missing mine.
“No, I’m serious. She’s by herself, in a barely-there Halloween costume and is drunk off her ass. Who is watching her?”
I can tell by the movement in my peripheral vision he’s giving me a sideways glance. “Dude. She’s fine. She’s in the middle of a roomful of people. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” I huff. “I just…that’s not really safe.”
I can tell when it hits him by the “ahhhh” that comes out of mouth. “Dude, I get that you’re on high alert after what happened outside your club, but it’s not your responsibility to make sure everyone makes good choices.”
He has no idea how much responsibility I feel, because I never told him. When the story broke about Ambrosia a couple days after the attack, he asked me about what had happened. I told him that all the staff had been made aware of the situation and more safety precautions had been put into place. Which was true.
What I didn’t tell him about was my involvement. Or Annika’s. That information is for me and me alone.
“Doesn’t matter, man.” I shake my head, suppressing my anger at his ignorance and refusing to take my eyes off her. “Things can change in an instant.”
Fortunately, as the words are coming out of my mouth, another girl comes up to her. When the drunk chick sees her friend, a giant smile immediately crossed her face, and she wraps her arms around the sober girl who rolls her eyes and helps her walk away.
“See?” Germaine smacks my shoulder. “Her friends are here. All good. You can stop worrying now.”
Blowing out a breath I try to agree with him, but I can’t. Not because anything wrong is happening here, but because the only girl I want to keep my eye on tonight isn’t with me.
Suddenly, I’m exhausted by all the people and noise. Downing the rest of my warm beer, I drop the empty cup on the table. “I’m not feeling it tonight, man. Are you okay if I head out?”
Giving me the once over, he jeers at me. “You lasted a couple hours before you had to go running back to your woman to get some pussy.”
I punch him playfully as he ribs me. He’s been doing it a lot lately. Every time I disappear, he knows exactly who I’m with.
“Hey, you wouldn’t be making fun if you knew her like I do.”
“I’d like to know her if someone would ever introduce me to her.”
“Sorry about that.” I rub my hand down my face, feeling guilty at the lack of introduction. “I’m not trying to keep her from you. Our schedules don’t overlap very much.”
“I know man, it’s cool. Thanksgiving break is coming up. Maybe we can go out before classes start up again.”
“Yeah. I think she’d like that. She’s cool.”
He claps me on the back again. “I don’t doubt that. I’ve never seen anyone catch your eye like she has. Now get outta here. And don’t forget to put a sock on the doorknob if you need a little privacy tonight.”
I shove him while he chuckles and walks away, following behind yet another scantily clad co-ed who gives him a flirty eye and sway of her hips when she walks past him.
I roll my eyes. I’m glad to be out of the meat market business. It was fun for a while, but at a certain point, chasing tail is fucking exhausting.
The Kappa Phi house isn’t a long walk from my dorm. Which is convenient when you go to a party that has lots of booze. Not having to drive means not having to find my car in the mess of vehicles, none of which are parked in actual spaces. “No wonder people do the walk of shame,” I mumble. I’d never be able to find my ride in this mess.
Pulling out my phone, I see it’s only 10:30. Man, I really am pussy-whipped. I laugh at myself and shrug my shoulders. I may be pussy-whipped, but I have a phone call to make and hopefully a girl to get to.
Dialing her number, she answers on the third ring. “Hey, did I wake you?”
‘No,” she says, sounding all out of breath. “I was watching a scary movie.”
“By yourself?” I chuckle.
“It wasn’t the smartest idea. You called right as the guy was about to jump out, and it scared the shit out of me. Took me until the third ring to figure out where I’d thrown my phone.”
The visual image makes me laugh. “You didn’t break it, did you?”
“No, thank god. I’m still paying off this upgrade. I don’t need to get another one.”
That’s my girl. Only someone as strong as her could joke alluding to how she lost her phone last time without losing her shit.
“Good, cause I’m not sure I could go for another week without talking to you.”
“You know how to find me.”
“Yeah, the problem is, you’re never there.”
She groans. “I know. This semester is about to kill me. Remind me to never take three science classes in a single semester again.”
“Did you at least get any studying done tonight?”
“No,” she grumbles.
I know that sound in her voice. She started with the best intentions, but something changed her mind. “What happened?”
“I had a fight with Lauren.”
Her deep sigh doesn’t surprise me. She’s known it was coming for a while. Still, I try to be supportive of the hurt I hear in her voice.
“That bad?”
“It was a long time coming. I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, but I wasn’t expecting her to think I have a holier-than-thou complex.”
I stop in my tracks. “What? She said that?”
“She seems to think since you and I started hanging out, I think I’m more important than her. Like, I’m hanging out with the football gods, and she’s just a gymnast.”
I snort a laugh. “First of all, that’s a load of bullshit. I’m hardly a football god. God of men, maybe.” She giggles. “But certainly not a god of football. Second, I had a friend in high school who was a gymnast, and I stupidly challenged her to see who was stronger.”
“Oh god. That doesn’t sound like it went well.”
“Yeah, you know where this story is going. We were equally matched on the pushups, which, by the way, was my choice. But when she tossed out the handstand challenge, it was over.”
The boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the phone makes me smile. “You football players are stupid sometimes.”
“Yeah, well. We get knocked in the head a lot.” Swinging the door open to my dorm, I wave at that Mark or Mike guy at the front desk. I still don’t know his name or what he even does besides sign visitors in and out. He just nods in my direction, barely looking up from his magazine. As I stomp up the stairs, I try to reassure her. “You and Lauren will work it out. Did you think about maybe telling her the truth?”
“NO!” Her answer is immediate and sounds final, so I don’t push. “I just…I’ve made a lot of progress, I don’t want to go backward again.”
I understand her concern, even if I don’t necessarily agree. “Fair enough. It’s your story. You do what you feel is best.”
“I will. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. What are you doing the rest of the night?”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe I should come over, and we can watch those scary movies together and snuggle.”
She can’t see the flirty grin on my face, but it’s there. One of these days I’ll feel confident enough to make a move. Hopefully sooner rather than later. It’s getting harder and harder not to kiss her senseless.
As I get to my door, there’s some guy sitting in front of it.
“That actually sounds fun,” I hear her say. “Why don’t you come over?”
As I get closer to the guy, I wonder if he’s homeless. His hair is greasy. Terrible acne covers his face. His clothes look a little disheveled. But then I realize, he’s just a kid.
“What’s up man?” I say with a nod of my head. “Yeah, that sounds great, Annika.”
My attention is divided between my phone conversation and this teenager in front of me. Who is he, and what does he want? Standing up, he immediately digs his hands in his pockets, like he’s nervous. “Hey. Um. Jaxon, right?”
I take a step back, thoroughly confused. “Hang on, Annika,” I say into the phone and then swivel the microphone away from my mouth. “Do I know you?”
“Yeah, um…” His hands come out of his pockets, and he nervously wipes them on his jeans. “I’m Kade. Kade Maxwell?”
I stare at him blankly. The name doesn’t ring a bell.
“Okay, I guess you don’t know who I am.” Nervousness is coming off of him in waves. “My mom is Shonda Maxwell.”
I shake my head slightly, still not making the connection.
“Oh God. This is awkward.”
It really is. He’s nervous and jittery, and I can’t help wondering when the last time he bathed was.
“Okay, I’m gonna rip the bandaid off. I’m your brother,” he blurts out.
I freeze and stare at him, trying to register his words. My brother? No, my brother, Matty, is at home with my parents and my sister, Lucy.
When I don’t say anything, he goes one step further.
“Um…my mom and your dad had an affair, and here I am.”
I immediately swivel the phone back in place. “Annika, I gotta call you back.” Clicking the phone off without waiting for a response, I brush him out of the way to open the door and gesture him inside the room.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I turn to him, hands on my hips, glaring. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.
He looks taken aback, but recovers quickly. “Okay, that wasn’t quite what I expected you to say.” He’s still nervous, but there’s also determination there. The attitude doesn’t overshadow the fact that he’s greasy and unkempt, and smells a little. I’m not sure how this kid thinks he could at all be related to my dad.
His words come out in a rush. “Like I said, my mom and your dad had an affair, and I’m your brother, and I came to see you, because I’ve been saving my money because I wanted to meet you.”
“How old are you?” I finally ask him.
“Fourteen,” he says shyly, looking at the floor.
I bang my fist gently on my forehead as I do the math, but it doesn’t add up. “I don’t believe you.” His eyes whip back up to mine, stunned. “My dad didn’t even meet my mom until I was seven,” I explain. “By that time, you would have already been born, and let’s face it, statistically speaking, women who get knocked up by a football player, a star player at that, typically want massive amounts of child support. It would have already been sorted out by the time my parents met.”
He relaxes like the explanation makes perfect sense. “Oh, no man, not that dad. Austin.”
My entire body freezes as I do the math again. He’s fourteen. That’s six years younger than me. My dad died when I was five. That means he would have been born just a few months after my dad died…
Seeing the look on my face, he fumbles around in his back pocket. “Sorry, here…” He pulls a paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. “It says right here on my birth certificate.”
Handing it to me, I inspect the words in front of me. There, plain as day, it says his name: Kayden Austin Maxwell. Father: Austin Mitchell Bryant.
“Holy shit,” I breathe as I collapse onto my bed. All I can do is stare at the paper. It’s true. He’s my brother. “What the fuck?”
Slowly pulling myself back together, I look up at him again. It’s clear he’s not Jason’s son. But could this be true? Could he really be Austin’s? I have no idea. I remember my dad. But that was through the eyes of a five-year-old. He could have been tall or short. I don’t have any real frame of reference. He was just “normal” in my eyes.
“Okay, I need you to explain this to me, because I have no idea what the fuck is going on, and it’s kind of freaking me out,” I finally say.
“Yeah. I can see you are either under informed, or I know way too much.”
I snicker humorlessly. “You’re fourteen. You probably should have been sheltered from some of this shit.” The words come out harsher than I intend. But right now, I’m really pissed and the only one here is him. Unfair? Yes. But he should have expected it by coming here like this.
“All I know is my mom and your dad, our dad, were having an affair when he died. I don’t know anything else other than that. Except I was born seven months after his death.
I take a deep breath, calming myself. Regardless of how I feel, I have to remember he is a fourteen-year-old kid who came looking for me. I suspect he’s looking for some of the same answers very soon, like how the fuck this happened in the first place. “Where do you live?”
“Up in Dallas.”
My eyes widen. “How’d you get here? That’s a six-hour drive.”
He shrugs and digs his hands into his pockets again. “I’ve been saving my birthday and Christmas money for a few years so I could get a bus ticket here.”
“Ohmygod,” I breath as I wipe my hand down my face. “Are you shitting me?” He shakes his head and looks at the floor, face turning red from embarrassed by my pointed questions. I realize I can’t kick him out. He has nowhere to go, and he’s a kid. I may not want to deal with this right now, but I’m not going to be an asshole. Instead, I ask, “You hungry, man? That must have been a long bus ride.”
He relaxes a little and even smiles. I find myself inspecting his expression, trying to find any trace of resemblance. “Uh, yeah. Kind of, I guess.”
I grab a bag of popcorn off the shelf over my desk, pop it into the microwave, and pull a bottle of water out of the fridge, tossing it to him. He fumbles around with it for a few seconds before finally getting a grasp on it. Clearly, he didn’t get his athleticism from my side of the family. I chuckle at the thought as I pull out my phone and text Germaine.
Find a place to stay tonight. I’ve got company.
His response is almost immediately.
Get ‘er done!
I don’t bother correcting him. I don’t need him up in my business until I get this sorted out.
Kade and I make small talk for the next couple of hours. I ask him about school and what he likes to do. He asks about college and what it’s like to be out on your own. We get to know each other a little bit, both of us still unsure how all this is going to work and where we go from here.
When he’s finally settled into Germain’s bed, snoring slightly, I grab my phone and quietly step out into the hall, pulling up the number of the one person I need to talk to the most.
He answers after the first ring. “Jax. What’s wrong?”
“Dad. We need to talk.”