Sucker Punched (10 page)

Savannah’s on the phone with him as I sit down next to her on the couch. Watching the parade on the TV, I take a sip of my beer, savoring it.

It’s the last one in my fridge, and the last one I’ll have for at least a couple days. I thought it best to get rid of all my booze since my dad will be staying with me for a bit, until I feel like he’s ready to head back home. 

It’s sad as hell that I don’t trust a fully grown man to take his meds, eat a decent meal three times a day, and lay off the smoking long enough for his lungs to heal, but here we are.

“Be careful, okay? I love you.”

She hangs up and I glance at her. “Did he say how much longer it’d be?”

“Not long, hopefully. They’re just waiting on a nurse to bring in discharge paperwork.”

I nod and take another drink.

“Everything looks great, by the way. Thank you for that. And thanks for sending Declan home. He needed to take a breather.” She lowers her voice. “He won’t admit it, but today’s been pretty stressful for him. It’s important to him that everything goes perfectly.”

“Oh, yeah?” Isn’t that what he said about her? That
Savannah
was the one stressing out?

She nods. “Not only is it our first Thanksgiving together, but it’s also the first big holiday him and your dad have spent together in what, ten years?”

“Twelve.” At her raised brow, I say, “It’s been twelve years.”

Shaking her head, she focuses back on the parade, her eyes growing sad. “Declan said he told you about the baby.”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Congratulations.”

She looks like she’s on the verge of crying when she turns to face me again. “I don’t want my kid to grow up in a family of strangers, Blake. I want you there for Christmases, birthdays, the whole nine yards.”

My eyes widen at her honesty. “Wow. I, uh, don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll be there. Promise me my child will know their only uncle.”

“You don’t have any brothers?”

I don’t mean to ignore her request, but I’m surprised. With the way Savannah keeps Declan in check, I just assumed she had a brother or two. Someone who taught her to stand up for herself and forced her not to take any shit.

Her face is eerily devoid of emotion. “I don’t have anyone. My mom died when I was four and my dad was never in the picture. Don’t even know his name. I was raised in foster care and it was
horrible
, Blake. My whole childhood was a living, breathing hell that didn’t end until I was eighteen.”

“Shit.” I had no idea Savannah has no family. It sounds like her childhood made mine look like fucking
Leave It to Beaver
. 

“Believe me when I tell you it’s important to me that my child knows who you are. Because aside from your dad,
you
are the only other family your niece or nephew will have.”

I sink into the couch like the weight of her words is physically pushing me down. “Shit.”

When Declan told me this morning that he was having a kid, I knew that logically, yeah, that meant I’d be an uncle. But I didn’t realize until now that his baby would be having me.

I’m
all
this kid will have in the world aside from its parents, because let’s face it, my dad’s probably not going to be here by the time their first birthday rolls around. That’s. . .some heavy shit right there.

“In the unlikely event that anything were to happen to us, I’d like to know that my child is well taken care of. I’d like to know that they’re with family.”

My eyes narrow on her as I realize where she’s going with this.

“And since you’re the only family left. . .” She smiles hopefully.

I scowl in return. “Does Declan even know you’re asking me this?”

“Of course.” Savannah sounds a bit offended. “We were supposed to talk to you together, but I wanted an honest answer from you. I was afraid Declan might guilt you into saying yes.”

Lifting my half-empty beer bottle, I gesture between us. “Isn’t that what you were doing just now with all that talk about how important family is and how there’s none left besides me?”

She looks down, pretending to pick a piece of lint off her pants. “No. I was just letting you know the severity of the situation.”

Bullshit. “You were just letting me know that I’m your only option.”

“You’re not our only option. I asked Macy, too, and she already said yes.”

My eyes cut to the kitchen, where Macy’s already watching us. She looks away as soon as our eyes meet, busying herself with buttering the rolls.

“So she’s your Plan B if I don’t say yes?”

“Actually, we’d like you guys to share custody. A kid needs a mom and a dad, and if it can’t be us. . .” She shrugs. “It’ll be easier on both of you if you have someone to shoulder the responsibility with.”

How the fuck did Declan and Savannah having a baby turn into me and Macy having one? I didn’t even get her pregnant and now I might be stuck with her for
life
? She’s cool as hell and all, but that’s a scary level of commitment. 

I sigh, acting like I’m put out. “Okay. I’m in.” 

Really, Savannah didn’t even need to ask. If the worst had happened, I never would’ve let that kid wind up in foster care. I might not know anything about kids or being a parent, but I would’ve figured that shit out. That’s what you do for family.

My mouth turns down as I think about what life as an uncle will be like. “This might not be so bad. I can play video games with him and teach him how to pick up chicks.” It’ll be awesome.

“What if it’s a girl?”

I shrug. “I can still teach her how to do those things.” 

Savannah rolls her eyes.

Macy walks into the living room then, wearing her coat. “I’m gonna take off now. Everything’s ready to go.”

“I’ll walk you out.” I get up and set my beer on the end table, following her out the front door. Closing it, we linger on the porch.

“I take it Savannah talked to you about the whole custody thing,” she says.

“Yeah.” I’m not sure what else to say, other than it looks like Macy’s going to be in my life a bit longer than I’d anticipated.

And it’s not lost on me that she did, in fact, spend a holiday with us. The first of many, probably.

“Did you say yes?”

“I did.”

She smiles. “Good. Although I’ve got to be honest, I hope we never actually have to co-parent together. Not that I don’t like you or anything. . .”

“No, I know. I hope it doesn’t happen either.” I may not get along with my brother all the time, or even half the time, but I’d be devastated if something happened to him.

She bites her lip, pointing to the car parked in front of my house. “I should probably go. My family’s waiting on me to start dinner.”

I open my mouth to ask her when I’ll see her again, but what’s the point? I don’t want to date her. All I want from her is sex. 

Lots and lots of sex.

But then what? 

I’m not the most stand-up guy. I’ve never given it a second thought when I burned a bridge before. Hell, I usually pour enough gasoline on the damn thing to make sure that sucker’s nothing but ash by the time it’s all said and done.

But with Macy, things are different. This is one bridge that has to remain intact if, God forbid, I need to cross it one day. 

My face instantly falls. “Fuck.”

She frowns. “What?”

“I just realized what this means. We can’t—”

I swallow, surprised to feel this much disappointment at the thought of never kissing her again, never touching her naked skin, never feeling her wrapped around my cock.

It’s an understandable reaction to a guy learning he’ll never get another shot at the best sex of his life, but still. It fucking sucks.

She looks away, seeming to catch my drift. “No, we can’t. But we can be friends.”

My eyes narrow at the unfamiliar word. “Friends.” I’ve never been friends with a girl before. I’m not even sure how it’s done.

But it was cool hanging out with her today. ’Course that’s mostly ’cause I thought I’d get lucky at some point.

Eh, what’s the worst that could happen?

“All right.” Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I pull up my contacts list and hand it to her. “Give me your number.”

Macy’s eyes dart from the screen to me, then back again. She’s looking at my outstretched phone like it’s going to bite her. “Why?”

“Friends text each other, don’t they?”

Her mouth arches into the prettiest smile as she takes my phone and enters her number. 

I’m already regretting this decision, because I shouldn’t like her smile this much. I spent way too much time today trying to put it on her face.

It’s addicting, the way she looks up at me through those lashes and the way her mouth curves softly at first, like she’s trying to stop it from happening but she can’t. And when she finally smiles wide, she looks down bashfully as pink blooms across her cheeks. It’s the most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen, and that—right there—tells me this is the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had. 

But when she hands me back my phone and I see that she’s saved her number under “Duchess,” I don’t seem to care anymore. For better or worse, we’re doing this. I just hope to hell I can keep it from going sideways.

After she pulls away, I head back inside. Savannah’s got her eyes trained on me while she grins from ear to ear.

I don’t like that look. It’s making me defensive, but I can’t put my finger on why. “What?”

“You like her.” Her tone is all gleeful accusation. 

I roll my eyes, feeling my face grow warmer. Son of a bitch, am I
blushing
? 

Scowling, I pick up my beer and finish it. “She’s a beautiful girl who let me have sex with her. What’s not to like?”

Piper’s turning into a real asshole this season.

A muted giggle—followed by a low moan and the start of rhythmic thumping—has me scowling as I turn up the volume to
Orange is the New Black,
 trying to drown out the sounds of my roommate and her boyfriend gettin’ it on. Jesus, how many times can they have sex before chafing becomes an issue? Seriously, you’d think Kelsey’s vag would’ve dried up after the first hour and a half of her headboard banging against our shared wall, but
nooo
. . .

I shove the stack of leggings I’d just folded into my dresser drawer, reluctantly admitting that my pissy mood is probably just because I’m not getting laid as much as Kelsey. My night with Blake
should
have alleviated all my pent-up frustrations, but all it’s done is make me painfully aware of what I’m missing. 

I’m almost mad at him for showing me how good sex can be. Ignorance is bliss, and he’s robbed me of mine. Now I’m afraid no guy I date will ever live up to the brain-scrambling, toe-curling, earth-shattering half hour I spent with Blake.

How sad is that?

Right when I start to get depressed about how bleak my future looks, my phone dings. I grab it off my bed, my eyes going wide when I read the text alert.

Holy shit, it’s from Blake. My heart’s in my throat as I swipe right to open the text.

A little laugh bubbles out of me. Why am I not surprised that
this
is the first text he sends me? The boy’s a shameless flirt.

I think about texting back something scandalous, like “Just a smile,” but this kind of behavior really shouldn’t be encouraged. We decided to be friends for a reason, and we shouldn’t complicate things by flirting. Even if he started it. Aiming for something completely unsexy, I text him:

Well it’s almost bedtime, so… Jammies. Granny panties. My retainer. You know, the usual.

His response is almost immediate.

No bra? Noice.

I roll my eyes. Of course he’d come to that conclusion. And damn it if he’s not right. . .

Me: Ha-ha.

Blake: Tits as perfect as yours are no laughing matter, Duchess.

My mouth drops open as I read his comment. How can he make me blush like this when he’s not even here? It’s like some kind of weird superpower.