Chapter 48
Maxwell’s short blond hair is still wet from the shower when he pads barefoot into the room. He tosses a clean bath towel in my direction before fastening his belt buckle. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but dude, you seriously need to take a shower. And maybe a shave. You look like a fucking caveman and you smell like one, too.”
I look up from the couch where I’m laying and glare over at my brother as he starts the coffee maker in the kitchen of his open concept loft. I grumble something unintelligible under my breath. I’m not in the mood for small talk and I’m definitely not in the mood to joke around.
Yes, it’s been awhile since I’ve showered. Yes, I’ve been sitting on this couch almost 24/7 since I got here three weeks ago. But fuck, can you blame me? I just lost the woman who’s holding my heart. She won’t take my calls. She won’t answer my emails or text messages. And I have no idea where the hell she is.
We finalize the sale of Master Ink tomorrow. I thought I’d feel something – sadness, remorse, nostalgia, maybe. After all, I built that business up to seven figures with nothing but my sweat and my talent and now I’m pawning it off to some rich prick with a trust fund. But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters because Sammie doesn’t want me anymore.
I keep beating myself up, wondering if things would have been different if I had just been upfront and told her right from the start. Maybe if I had told her about my criminal record right from the get-go, she would have been more understanding or at least she would have turned me down sooner and I wouldn’t be hurting so badly right now.
Maxwell stretches a cup of coffee out to me. “You’re a miserable fuck, aren’t you?” he says as pours himself a cup and sets it down on the granite countertop behind him.
His downtown L.A. loft is very grownup, for lack of a more appropriate descriptor. Leather seating, dark carpets, high-tech appliances. And the view of the city is insane. I guess that the football thing is paying off.
“Ya think?” I ask sarcastically before I chug back the hot caffeine in one long gulp, ignoring the agony of my scalded taste buds.
Maxwell scratches his eyebrow then leans against the kitchen island to slip on his black socks. “See, that’s why I don’t do relationships…Not good for your skin. I’m not about to lose my Neutrogena endorsement over worry lines and crow’s feet. Y’know what I mean?” He leans back against the counter and makes a big show of smoothing his hand over his cheek, waiting for me to laugh.
I don’t have the energy.
He sighs. “Do you think you can get it together by tomorrow, bro? We’re going to the lawyers’ office to sign the sale documents and I don’t want you scaring off the buyer with your resting bitch face.”
“Like I give a fuck,” I grunt.
My brother grunts back as he buttons up the front of his black collared shirt. “So, are you going back to Reyfield after the sale or are you gonna stick around in L.A. for a bit? Maybe some beach time is what you need.”
I just shrug. There’s nothing for me in Reyfield since Sammie ran away from me, but there’s nothing for me here, either. So, where am I going after all this is said and done? I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
“Okay, Grouch,” my brother says as he rolls back the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his forearms. “There’s leftover Chinese food in the fridge. Help yourself.” He’s slipping into his polished Italian leather shoes now. “I’m off to meet with my team’s management and the head coach. Wish me luck.” Then, he takes another look at my disheveled appearance and scowls as if I’m a bad omen. “On second thought, don’t wish me luck.”
I don’t even have the vigor or the inclination to say goodbye as he speeds out the door, closing it behind him with a loud bang.
I sit on the couch staring into the bottom of my empty coffee cup. I could use a good, stiff drink right now. Over the past few weeks, I’ve blown through the contents of Maxwell’s mini bar, though I have a sneaking suspicion that my younger brother might just be plain out hiding the alcohol from me at this point. And the liquor store at the end of the block seems so very, very far away.
When you’re too depressed to even be a proper alcoholic, that’s when you know that you’ve hit rock bottom.
I flop back onto the couch cushions and stare at the ceiling. Will I ever feel fucking normal again? Will I ever stop feeling so guilty and fucked up?
The same questions have been running through my mind for weeks on end. I hurt the woman that I love and now she’ll never have anything to do with me again. I should have told her about my criminal record when I had the chance.
Just as I’m falling into the now-familiar pattern of feeling sorry for myself, there’s a loud insistent banging at the door. “Fuck, Maxwell. Don’t you have a fucking key?” I yell over my shoulder.
The damned banging doesn’t stop. In fact, it only gets louder and more insistent. Begrudgingly, I stumble out of the chair and walk around the couch toward the door.
But when I swing open the door, it’s not Maxwell standing there. Instead, I’m greeted by a powerful, angry fist straight to the nose. The punch packs so much force that it knocks me flat on my ass. “What the fuck, man?” I bark, gripping my bleeding nose as I glare up into Daniel’s hostile face.
“That’s for fucking my sister!” he snarls, glowering down at me. Then, he rears back like an angry stallion and lands a merciless kick square in my balls. “And that? That’s for knocking her up!”
I roll over onto my side, gripping my crotch in agony. I see stars flashing before my eyes.
Wait — did he just say that Sam is knocked up?
“She’s pregnant?” I grunt through the bloody palm that seems to be holding my nose in place.
Daniel eyes me like he’s going to tear me to shreds. “Yes, she’s fucking pregnant…and alone, thanks to you, asshole!”
I lie there on the floor, a bleeding, stinking mess, looking up into the eyes of my best friend. He’s angry, he feels betrayed, and he may not see it this way, but he just delivered the best fucking news I’ve heard in weeks.
“She’s pregnant?” I mumble again just as fucking tears spill down my face. Fear, excitement, bliss, terror, elation — they all flood me at once.
“A little late to be crying, don’t you think?” Daniel spews angrily. “You never considered that this could happen while you were FUCKING MY LITTLE SISTER?!”
He lunges for me again, but I quickly hold up my hands in surrender. My heart is racing, my stomach is churning, but all I can think is, Sammie’s having my baby!
I push myself into a sitting position and give Daniel an earnest expression. “Look man, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried to keep away from her, but the truth is, I love your sister. I’ve loved her ever since we were kids.” Daniel is still giving me hard eyes but at least he’s not trying to attack me right this minute, so I continue. “I never meant to hurt her. And I didn’t mean to get her pregnant, but I have every intention of standing by her side. I’ll do right by her. And by our baby.”
Daniel’s stiff expression loosens just a little when I tell him that I’m ready to step up to the plate and give Sammie whatever she needs from me. He’s quiet for a moment as he contemplates what I’ve just said. Then, he exhales sharply and stretches out a hand to me. I wipe my bloody palm on my jeans before I reach for his hand and let him help me to my feet.
“You look like shit, by the way,” he says as he pulls his hand out of my grip. “And you smell like it, too.”
“These past few weeks without Sammie have been hell, man. It’s been worse than being in jail. I’m not joking. But I’m gonna make this right, Daniel,” I promise and I’ve never been more sincere. “I’ll fight for her. For both of them.”
Daniel mumbles under his breath. “You’d better, asshole.” Before I can say anything else, he turns on his heel and steps out the door.
“I will, Daniel. Believe me when I say that I love your sister. I love her.”
He just keeps walking in the direction of the elevators without uttering another word.
I close the door behind him and stand in the vestibule feeling completely bewildered, like I just woke up in some alternate universe.
She’s pregnant with my baby. She’s pregnant with my baby.
That should freak me out, scare me. But the thought of being tied down by Samantha Trotten, of being domesticated by her, has me grinning from ear to ear.