EXCLUSIVE: ACCIDENTAL DADDY

CHAPTER ONE

DECLAN

 

“Bloody good fight man,” Seth said as he high-fived me.

“Bloody is right,” I said.

I grabbed a towel that sat on a stool nearby and wiped down my face. The white towel came back with dark crimson smears.

“Bastard almost got me,” I said.

“Almost,” Seth said. “But he didn't.”

Seth was my best friend – or as close to a best friend as I'd ever had. He was also my manager, if you could call it that. Booking fights, getting my name out there, all that jazz – Seth took care of that end of things for me. He had a day job too, but we both kept working hard and hoping my fighting skills would eventually lead to a big paycheck for both of us one day.

“Nah, but he put up a good fight. Better than I thought he would,” I said.

I grabbed a bottle of water, yanked the top off and guzzled it down. I reveled in the cool refreshing feel of the water as it slid down my throat. I was going to need something a little stronger soon though. Something like a good whiskey, if for no other reason, then to numb the pain in my face.

As I lowered the bottle, my eyes fell on the big guy behind the bar. Tommy Jenkins was a big man with arms large and corded with enough muscle that he could probably bench press everyone there. But, he never stepped foot in the ring. Nah, he stayed behind the scenes, coordinating things and making money without having to take a beating to do it. Smart man. He was staring at the ring, along with everyone else in the bar, as two new fighters hopped in took my place.

“Come on,” Seth said. “Let's get paid, then let's get shitfaced.”

Tommy pulled out an envelope as we walked up and handed it over to Seth. My pseudo-manager counted it out on the bar. The bartender's eyes narrowed as my friend, who was barely a third of Tommy's size, finished his tally and shook his head.

“Nah, man, this ain't right,” Seth said. “The winner was supposed to get a grand, Tommy. This is only eight hundred bucks.”

“The purse to the winner is now eight hundred,” Tommy said. “Want more money? Fight more often.”

“You can't go changing the rules like that, man,” Seth said as he gathered up the bills and tucked them away in the envelope, pocketing it. “We agreed to a grand if my man, Declan, won. He won. You shorted us two hundred bucks, Tommy.”

“Rodrigo didn't show up. We need another fighter,” he said. “Take that fight, and I'll give you the two hundred I owe you – plus a thousand more.”

Seth side-eyed me. My nose was still bloody, my face hurt like hell, but I could see the question in his eyes – could I fight again? Probably, but that wasn't the point of all this. He turned away, maybe sensing my reluctance to climb into the ring for a second time that night.

“We agreed to a thousand, nothing about a second fight,” Seth said, his voice going lower.

“You can take the deal, or you leave it. I really don't give a fuck,” Tommy said.

He shrugged and turned his attention back to the two fighters in the ring.

“No. This is bullshit,” I snapped, deciding to step in and help my friend out, “The deal was for a thousand. One fight with my name on the ticket. You know I bring in the fans, Tommy. You know you make a shitload of money when I fight. Come on, man. You don't want to do this over two hundred bucks.”

I knew this whole episode wasn't really about the two hundred bucks. Tommy was testing us. If we settled for two hundred less this time, next time, it would be three hundred . If we let him serve us a shit sandwich now and ate it with a smile, he'd serve us a bigger helping next time. If we set the precedent that we could be pushed around now, we'd have no choice but to take it when it came up again.

Well, we weren't about to take it this time. That was bullshit. I wasn't about to do another fight. Not one I didn't agree to beforehand. That's not the way I operated.

“Eight hundred bucks. Take it or leave it,” Tommy said, motioning for two guys who were as big, if not bigger than him and said, “If you want to argue the issue further, I'll be in my office.”

Tommy didn't spare us another look as he took off toward the back room, the bouncers following behind, both of them keeping an eye on us. Seth snarled and lunged forward, but I grabbed his shirt and held him back.

“Hey, man,” I said. “Don't be stupid.”

“What do you mean – ” Seth stammered.

He bit off his words, his eyes growing wide as he stared at somebody behind me. I had no idea who was back there, but the look on his face said it all – whoever was behind me was a lot scarier than the three meatheads who'd just screwed us out of our rightfully earned money.

That sense of dread in me only deepened when he silently mouthed the words, “Oh shit.”

“Declan.”

The familiar voice that spoke up from behind me sent a cold shiver sliding up my spine. It was a soft, feminine voice, but one that caused me to cringe and the knots in my stomach to constrict, regardless. I turned and came face-to-face with Crystal – my ex-girlfriend. I quickly noticed that she wasn't alone either. In her arms, she carried a small bundle in a blanket.

A baby.

Her hair was now bleached an almost platinum blonde, that had a slight orange tinge to it. It was fried and frizzy, her face thinner, her body gaunt, and her eyes darker than I remembered. She didn't look good, not in the least. “Crystal, long time,” I said, gritting my teeth.

My eyes never left the bundle in her arms, and my heart raced as I did the math in my head, trying to work out whether or not my worst fear was about to come true.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” I said.

“Yeah, me neither,” she said, adjusting the child, who couldn't be more than two months old. “But I can't do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Can we have a moment alone please?”

Her eyes flicked over to Seth and the scowl on her face deepened. Whatever she had to say to me was weighing on her, I could tell. But, at least she had the decency to not blurt our private business out for God and everyone to hear. “Sure,” Seth said, patting me hard on the back. “I'll be at the bar.”

Crystal waited until he was just out of hearing distance and then turned to me. It was only then it occurred to me – the bar was no place for a baby. How in the hell had she gotten in there with a baby? Though, figuring out the answer to that question was the least of my current concerns.

I motioned for her to follow me, and we walked toward the exit. I threw the door open and we stepped outside. The air outside was still mild, not too hot and not too cold. It was one of those perfect evenings that sat between winter and summer that Chicago rarely saw. I was grateful for that, since the baby had nothing but a light blue blanket wrapped around his little frame.

“What do you want, Crystal?” I asked, avoiding asking about the baby elephant in the room.

Crystal walked out on me in the middle of the night almost a year ago. No note. No text. No nothing. After she left, she never returned my calls or anything. She'd just ghosted my ass. It was like she'd disappeared without a trace.

After living together for four months, I thought she'd at least give me some reason for walking out like she had. Help me understand what it was I'd done – or not done. But, nope. She'd just up and packed her bags, took everything she owned – along with a few things that weren't hers – and she was gone. Just like that.

Now, like a zombie back from the grave, she stood before me – scowl on her face and a baby that may or may not be mine, in her arms. God help me, it wasn't mine – was it? A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I already knew the answer. “I can't do this anymore, Declan,” she said again, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I can't be a mother. I don't have it in me. That's never been my thing.”

“Oh yeah, I get that, Crystal. So, who's the father?” I asked, and my body stiffened as I waited for a response.

“You know the answer to that already, Declan,” she whispered, a small, sad smile playing at her lips. “I only ever slept with you.”

“And I would know that how? You didn’t exactly leave me with a very good reason to trust you, now did you?”

A dark look passed through her eyes and her face twisted up into a look of pain as she was assaulted by the memories of our shared history.

“I'm sorry, it's just – well, I left because I wasn't sure how you'd handle the pregnancy,” she said. “I didn't want to keep it. I'd actually planned on giving it up for adoption. And now, well, I realize the right thing to do is let you know about your son.”

A lump formed in my throat I had a hard time swallowing down. “My son?”

“Yes, his name is Jack,” Crystal said.

She pulled the blanket back, uncovering the small, soft, round face of the child. There was a tuft of red hair on his head, and when I saw it, I knew, he had to be mine.

“I have a son,” I said, speaking the words slowly and carefully, as if trying to convince myself it was true.

All my life, I never imagined myself ever having kids. Mainly because I wasn't sure I'd actually live long enough to experience such a thing. Being a fighter meant I put my body through so much, I just expected that one of these days, it would kill me. Every time I stepped into the ring, I was fully aware that it could be my last time.

“You do,” Crystal said.

She moved as if to hand him to me, and even though I wasn't ready, I took him into my arms. When I stepped back with the child in my arms, I marveled down at him. He was so small and so light, it was hard to believe there was anything wrapped inside that blanket at all. But, his eyes stared up at me, large and bright. I could hardly breathe as I looked at such a perfect, beautiful child. My child.

But then the cold reality of the moment – of my life – slapped me upside the head and brought me back to the here and now. As precious as the child was, I didn’t exactly live the kind of life that would be good for him. “I don't know what you want me to do, Crystal,” I said. I met her gaze again. “I can give you money. I mean, I don't make much and it's never certain – ”

“I don't want your money, Declan,” she snorted. “I want you to take him. I'm not cut out for motherhood. I can’t take care of him. I don’t want to.”

“Crystal, I can't – ”

For the first time, I noticed the track marks on her arms. When we were together, she'd been a recovering heroin addict. But she'd sworn to me that she was clean, and would be clean for good. Apparently, she was no longer in recovery.

“You have to, Declan,” she said, her eyes were wide and pleading, tears filling them. “I'm not going to live much longer, I know that. I love that little boy, but I know I can't take care of him. He needs somebody who can. Somebody who can do right by him and raise him. He needs you.”

“I'm not exactly father material, Crystal,” I muttered.

I adjusted the child in my arms, and he whimpered. I feared he might start crying – and if he did, then what? I wasn't sure how to handle a screaming baby. I knew nothing about feeding them or changing diapers. I didn't know the first thing about raising a child. I was clueless and afraid. I knew if she made me do this, I'd fuck it all up. I would destroy this kid without meaning to.

I tried handing Jack back to Crystal, but she shook her head.

“No, Declan. I can't. You have your brothers, your entire family,” she said. “They can help you. I have no one. He's better off with you.”

She dropped a bag onto the sidewalk and gave me a wan smile. She turned and took off, running down the street like the devil himself was chasing her. I took a few steps after her but running with a baby in your arms is no small feat. Jack started crying, and I stopped. I stared after Crystal my stomach in knots, no longer seeing her in the distance.

She'd turned a corner and was gone.

I had a son.

I was left standing there with no fucking idea what I was going to do.

~ooo000ooo~

 

“Fuck, man,” Seth said.

We were sitting in his car and I Jack in my arms. No car seat. Nothing. I was currently staying at Seth's place, sleeping on his couch. I couldn't take a kid back to that shitty apartment riddled with beer bottles, bongs, and trash all over the place. It was a bachelor pad, not a place for kids.

I had nothing for this kid but what Crystal had left me. I had nothing, except for the small diaper bag that had a couple of diapers and bottles, and just one container of formula. That was it. Nor did I have the first clue what I needed to get.

Neither Seth or I knew the first thing about babies, but I knew someone who did.

We were sitting outside of my brother's house. I couldn't recall the last time I'd spoken to either of my brothers. It had probably been at our dad's funeral. I wanted nothing to do with most of my family and what they were caught up in and intentionally kept my distance from them.

But, there I was, out of options.

“Did he ever respond?” Seth asked.

I nodded and looked at my phone. My older brother, Killian, had told me to come on over. I hadn't exactly explained that I had a child with me – my child, no less. I figured I'd leave that talk for when we were face-to-face. It seemed like a conversation better not had over text messaging. I put my phone away and opened the car door.

“Want me to come in?” Seth asked.

“Nah, I got this,” I muttered.

Seth would run through a wall for me, but he looked relieved to not have to come inside for that. He was a good friend, but this was incredibly far outside of his comfort zone. I knew that and didn't blame him. Neither of us had ever mentioned settling down and having kids. It just wasn't something on either of our radars. We enjoyed women – we enjoyed fucking random women a lot.

Fucking was one thing. The idea of having a family with someone one day? Nope. Neither my best friend or I had ever thought that far ahead. Now, suddenly, I had a kid and that changed everything.

Killian lived in a large house – practically a mansion – on the outskirts of Chicago, in the suburbs where the upper middle-class folk tend to live. The two-story house had the front porch light on, and there was light streaming from the front window. He was still up and waiting for me, but the rest of the house was dark and silent. His wife and kids must have been in bed, which was good. Killian's place was your typical upper-middle class home, and nothing about the house would have set off alarm bells for anyone or made them look askance at it. It was your typical McMansion – with faux Victorian accents like the front porch that wrapped around the house, to the grandiose turret on the front side, with the bay window and my brother's office tucked away inside.

I'd been to that house many, many times and was well familiar with all of it. After all, it used to be our father's house. Killian took over most of my father's business, along with help from our brother, Rory. The two of them ran what looked like your typical Irish pub in downtown Chicago. The pub was always booming and brought plenty of money the legal way, sure. It was a good business. But, that had never been enough for my family. They had always yearned for more. Dad had started the family's other business – selling guns and drugs out the back of the pub when we were just young troublemakers knocking around the neighborhood. Now that our father was dead, my brothers controlled the empire. Early on, they'd both tried to get me involved in the family's little criminal empire. They'd pressed me hard, but, I'd declined every single time. I had no desire to live that kind of life.

Killian was the only one who could help me now, though. The only person I knew with kids – who knew anything about kids. He and his wife, Meredith, had raised babies of their own, and he'd done well at it too. They had three little ones – all healthy and doing well in school. My two nephews and a niece. A beautiful little family, just not anything I ever expected to have for myself.

Letting out a long breath, I knocked lightly on the front door, and Killian answered instantly, as if he'd been waiting just on the other side of the door anticipating my knock. He was almost a mirror image of myself – we both had the reddish-brown hair, while Cody somehow ended up with our mother's honey blonde locks. Genetics never made much sense to me, truthfully.

Killian was about half an inch taller than me but had a thinner frame. I was built from all the fighting and working out I did, while Killian was lean. I knew I could take care of myself if it came down to it, but my brother relied on other means of protection.

He also lacked the tattoos that I did, instead choosing a clean-cut, business professional look. His hair was cut short to his head, his face freshly shaven, and even at that hour, was still in nice dress slacks and a button-up shirt, looking as if he'd just stepped out of a meeting with investors. He hardly looked like someone who would own a pub. But, then again, he didn't actually deal with the pub's business nor did he work there personally. He preferred to stay behind the scenes and handle the money.

My own scruffy hair and beard made me look like a vagrant as I stood there next to my brother. My arms were covered in full tattoo sleeves – some of the ink held meaning for me, while some of it was gotten while I'd been incredibly drunk with Seth.

“Long time, no see, brother,” Killian said.

His blue eyes fell on the bundle in my arms, and he cocked an eyebrow. Still, he waited for me to say something.

“Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that,” I said. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said.

He stepped aside and held the door open for me to enter. His gaze never fell off the child in my arms, however, and the light of curiosity shone bright in his eyes.

“And who do we have here?” he asks. “Tell me you aren’t so hard up for cash that you kidnapped a kid for the ransom ?”

While it was meant to be a joke, I was sure, it was hard to take it that way knowing my brother's business sometimes actually did involve kidnapping. I grimaced and looked away.

“No, actually, it's – my kid,” I said, my voice soft.

I pulled the blanket back and showed off the head covered with red hair. Killian let out a deep whistle as he looked at the baby.

“My little brother, Declan O'Shea – a father,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I never thought I'd live to see the day.”

The two of us walked through the foyer and stepped into the living room. Family photos lined the wall and the mantle above the fireplace. A couch, a love seat and several oversized chairs filled the massive room. There was a flat-screen TV tucked away discretely into the wall above the fireplace, but my brother was rarely one for television. The walls were painted a light blue, very soothing and very comforting, and the furniture was all white. It was hard to imagine having white furniture with three kids, but they must have employed some damn good housekeepers. Either that, or they bought new couches every time one of their kids got it dirty.

Must be nice to have that kind of cash, I thought.

The open floor plan allowed me to see into the dining room, and past that, the kitchen. Large French doors opened to a patio where there was a giant yard, and a pool with a hot tub. The home had everything an upper middle-class family would need. There was a stairwell that led upstairs, to the kid's rooms, and the master bedroom was tucked away on the first floor near the back. Meredith would be sleeping, so I knew we needed to be quiet.

“I only found out about half an hour ago myself,” I muttered.

Jack squirmed in my arms and let out a squeal, the tiniest and most pitiful of sounds and I nearly dropped him in my panic. I had no idea what it meant or what to do about it. I looked up at my brother, feeling my eyes grow wide and my heart thundering in my chest.

“I have no fucking idea what I'm doing,” I admitted.

“I can see that,” Killian said.

He reached out and plucked the child out of my arms, holding him like a pro. Killian smiled down at the tiny bundle, rocking him gently in his arms.

“And what's my nephew's name?”

“Jack,” I said, scratching my head.

“A good, strong name,” he said. “Father would have been happy.”

I groaned inwardly at the mention of my dad. Coming from strong Irish stock, my parents always wanted a big family. They ended up with just us three boys but had no girls. Not that dad thought that was a problem. He just wanted more sons, and later grandsons, to help continue on with the family business.

“He's probably hungry,” Killian said. “Do you have anything to feed him?”

I handed over the diaper bag and let my brother sort through the items. He shook his head and frowned.

“This all she left you with?” he asked.

“Yep. And Crystal took off before I could stop her,” I said, shrugging. “No idea where she's at. She just appeared like a damn ghost, dropped Jack off, and disappeared again. Just like that.”

“Probably for the best, Crystal was always a little – ”

Killian stopped and studied my face. In the past, I knew I'd been pretty defensive whenever somebody brought my former girlfriend up in conversation and wouldn't dare let anyone talk shit about her. Not in front of me.

Things had changed though. In fact, everything had changed.

“Flighty?” I answered for him.

Killian chuckled, a deep, low sound. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, clearly wanting to say something far harsher. “Come on, let's go into the kitchen and make this little man a bottle.”

“Thanks, man,” I said. “You have no idea how much I need you right now.”

“What are brothers for?” he said.

Truthfully, I knew I needed a lot of help. More than just feeding the kid. I had nowhere to go, no bed for him to sleep in. Nothing. Not even a stable job that would let me provide for him. I had nothing to my name, no source of income besides fights every weekend – if Seth could manage to get them booked. Even in the ring though, my pay was decreasing gradually. I wasn't that big of a name anymore, as Tommy had just proven to me.

I needed to do something, and fast, though. Whether I liked it or not, I might have to ask Killian for even more help – help I loathed the idea of taking on. But, I needed to suck it up do what needed to be done for the good of my kid.

At least, until I figured shit out on my own.