Under Locke by Mariana Zapata
I didn't know what shit there was to figure out but a small voice told me that he was probably referring to the child in Colorado that, at least at the moment, neither one of us were fans of. I'm sure that once I wasn't so mad anymore, I'd come to my senses. From what Sonny had said, our dad hadn't stuck around there for long either. That man was a creature of habit.
Damn it. I could feel myself getting pissed off all over again. Even more so than before.
"Okay, Sonny." I wanted to bang my head against the steering wheel, but there was still another five minutes of driving left ahead of me.
"Are we gonna be okay?" he had the nerve to ask.
My heart swelled, only momentarily eclipsing the fury I felt toward our asshole sperm donor. My vow to not call him an asshole had apparently disappeared at some point.
Will might not answer my emails or bother to pick up a phone and call me, but Sonny had always looked out for me. It had always been an even give and take between us. We weren't forced together by obligation, but instead he'd gone out of his way to be in my life and I'd gladly accepted it.
And I hoped—I knew—I always would.
"I love you, dude. We'll always be fine."
The long sigh he answered with was relief for both of us. He promised to call me again soon and let me know what he found out, and I promised not to do anything stupid again. If he only knew.
I pushed all thoughts of my dad out of my head over the last minute of my trip to Dex's. I didn't think of him as I parked the car and made it in. I didn't think of anything as I grabbed clothes out of my duffel and headed into the shower.
But about a minute after I'd stepped into the stall, I thought of him.
And I screamed.
Not like a horror-movie scream, but the same kind of scream I'd expelled when I knew without a doubt that there was no hope for my mom. It physically hurt me.
The tears that followed afterward were just as painful.
Sonny had told me once that I'd felt everything more with our dad because I was the one who'd had him the longest. More than Sonny by far. Will was only five when he'd left us, and I doubted he remembered much about the bearded man that used to tuck him into bed. The man he'd cried over for months. I'd been the one with the most memories. The kid who had cried over him for longer than a few months.
Those memories, right then, I damned. Because I was too old to feel so territorial, so betrayed. I had no right. I had no reason.
I couldn't help it though.
The fact that he'd had another kid while we'd gone through so much made me feel insignificant. Whatever issues I think I'd secretly harbored with abandonment flared up.
I thought of Will. Of my poor mom, and I wondered if she'd known about Colorado. The idea that she might have found out killed me a little inside.
Before I knew it, the tears had turned into sobs, then the sobs had turned into whimpers, and the anger and sadness was replaced with cold indifference.
By some miracle I managed to turn off the water—I hadn't bothered with soap or shampoo—and I tugged my clothes on, fighting back those pathetic tears that were ready to commit suicide again. The reflection in the mirror showed me that I was a mess. I didn't have an appetite and all I wanted was oblivion for the night.
The problem was that the home I was in wasn't mine.
And the man who owned the home happened to be standing in the hall outside of the bathroom, waiting for me when I opened the door.
Dex's eyes were hooded, his normally sensual mouth parted, and his gaze bore a hole straight into me.
I dropped my own eyes down to the floor, the memory of what exactly had happened at Mayhem only stacking onto my misery. "Not right now, Dex," I told him in a voice that sounded more of a croak than anything. I walked right past him, heading into the living room where I flopped onto the couch, taking over the main length of it, face-down like a fussy kid. My face buried into the soft material of the pillow I set on the end of the sofa that morning.
The floor creaked with his weight. I could sense him standing just off the side of the couch. If I turned my head, I'm sure his feet would have been in my vision but I didn't do it. He just stood there for what seemed like forever.
"I'm not kidding, Dex."
He huffed. "Why?"
Why? Ohmigod. I wanted to scream again. "I'm feeling pretty worthless right now, all right?" I whispered into the cushion, just loud enough for him to hear. "The last thing I want is for you to make me feel like a pathetic moron again."
Did he say anything? No.
Instead, I felt the heat of his body get even closer right before the pillow below me was lifted, raising my head right along with it. A heartbeat later, he plopped into the empty spot, dropping the pillow on top of his lap so that my upper body rested on his thighs. The weight of his hand settled between my shoulder blades.
I tried sitting up onto my knees but his hand kept me down on top of him—well, the pillow. My boobs were smashed against his thigh but I didn't care. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry.
"Dex," I kind of whined.
He palmed the back of my neck, shifting down the couch just a bit. "Ritz."
"I don't want to hear it right now."
Dex made a humming noise. "I'm not gonna talk shit to you right now," he said in a silky, low voice. "I wanna know what the fuck had you screamin' in the shower, babe."
I hated him. Just a little.
"First I thought it was me that was makin' you cry but after a while, I figured I couldn't have made you that mad."
"Don't flatter yourself," I groaned. "You made me mad," I turned my mouth just to the side so I wouldn't drool all over the pillow. "But no, I'm not going to cry over you calling me ugly names and being a total dick."
He groaned, the hand on the nape of my neck tightened. His fingers massaging the sides. "I was pretty fuckin' pissed."
"Anytime you're pissed, you're always really friggin’ pissed," I explained to him, earning a snicker from the big man beneath me. "You were a jerk."
Another groan. His hand slid over to my right shoulder blade. "You were bein' an idiot, Ritz."
"So you had to call me a dumb little shit in front of your friends?"
He didn't answer. Dex's large palm swept over to my other shoulder, cupping that one, too. "Lu told me I was too harsh with you," he admitted in what I could only assume was a contrite voice. "I was worried, all right?"
Hmm.
"I was plannin' on gettin' home and tannin' your ass like Ma used to do to me." His fingers went right back to my neck, the palm kissing my spine. "I don't really think you're a dumb little shit," he said.
I turned my head the other way to face his stomach. "Oh?"
"You're just a little shit, babe," Dex murmured. "You wanna tell me what all that mess in the shower was about?"
No, I didn't. Yet, there I was opening my mouth. "My dad's an asshole and an idiot."
"Whoa there, tiger. Watch the potty mouth," said the man that dropped the f-bomb at least one hundred times a day. Dex's long fingers swept down my spine all the way to where the elastic on my shorts were. A small part of me recognized that this was too intimate but the warm reassurance was exactly what I needed and wanted. "What happened?"
"He has another kid." I totally wheezed out the words. "My mom was friggin' dying, losing all of her hair, throwing up every day, and this asshole was off having babies with some lady, Dex." I gasped. "Does he not know what the hell a condom is used for? What kind of a selfish jackass does that?"
Of course, he didn't respond but I didn't care because the words just kept pouring out of my mouth.
"He loved my mom, was married to her, had kids with her and he left us. Just like that. Like we were nothing to him. One day he was there and the next he was telling my mom he couldn’t stay any longer. He was restless, he said. I always hoped that maybe he’d come back. Maybe he’d miss us enough," I rambled. "But no. Nooooo. That fucking asshole doesn't give a shit about anyon
Dex's hand slid up my back again, circling one side of my shoulders before moving to the other.
"And he has another kid, and he left that one too." God, I was pretty sure I was wheezing. "I hate him, Dex. I hate him for breaking my mom's heart, and leaving us, and for not caring. God dammit. I needed him—," Screw me. I'd started tearing up again, my voice cracking. "And he didn’t give a fuck."
A watery cough escaped my body. “I just want life to quit taking a shit on me.”
That large hand kept up its circling swipes, down one side of my back before moving over to the other while I sat there, trying to compose myself. Trying to bottle up the momentary anger that had made its way out of me. For a long time, we just sat there. Me still laying partially over Dex's lap, Dex with his hand moving around my back over my t-shirt. The silence was okay because I'd said what I needed to. I'd released the crap I'd held in for so long.
Because apparently, whether or not I'd stopped thinking about my dad years ago, the effect he'd left on me had been stored into the recesses of my conscience.
After a while, I tried to sit up but the heavy hand on the middle of my back kept me down.
"You feel better now?" Dex whispered.
I sniffled. "I guess."
"You better, babe." His fingers inched down like he was acting out the Itsy-Bitsy Spider on me. "I know you’re hurtin' but that's enough."
Who the hell was this guy to tell me I'd cried enough or not? I tried to push back again but he wasn't having it. Dex made a tisking sound.
"No, no, no. You're gonna listen to me, Ritz. And you listen good."
Holy crap, this was going to be just like yia-yia's lectures.
"That fuck is not worth your tears. He is not worth the love you've given him. He doesn't deserve it and he never will. I'm sure you needed your dad as a kiddo, honey, but you got a shitty one. And that shitty one is not gonna define you. He is not gonna be the reason you cry or don't trust people ever again.
"You're beautiful, and you're so fuckin' sweet, and you're smart, Ritz. You have to get that from your ma because you definitely don't get that shit from your pa. Knowin' Son and how much he feels for you, I know your ma wouldn't want you to suffer like you are."
His fingers tightened on my nape. "You are never gonna cry over that asshole again. I don't even want you to get mad when you think of him. He doesn't exist anymore. His shit will never hurt you again. Do you hear me?"
I hiccupped into the pillow, nodding just barely. I felt so overwhelmed, so raw, it was draining. I'd think about him again, there was no way I couldn't but at the moment, it was nice to believe that I could wash myself of Curt Taylor.
Dex's fingers extended to where the palm covered all of the back of my neck and his fingers wrapped around most of my throat. "My ma used to tell me you have to fight through some shitty ass days to get to the best days of your life. So I’m tellin’ you now, that you gotta hang in there. I swear to you, after this shit is over, you’re not gonna have to worry about him ever again.” His thumb dug deep into my flesh.
I made a noise that sounded like I was dying. “Oh Dex.”
“Babe, you’re the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. You deserve better than this broken heart bullshit.” His fingers kneaded the muscles on my neck. “If I ever see that beautiful face cryin’ again over somethin’ that worthless sack of shit did, I’m gonna make your daddy regret ever meetin’ your ma, you got it?”
A different kind of emotion overwhelmed me, temporarily blinding all the anger and resentment that had pierced my body. It made my insides clench and want to cry all over again. Because here was this man who had just called me a dumb little shit earlier, rubbing my back and promising things that were like some kind of super salve.
The words meant more because they came from Dex. Dex who wouldn’t spout crap for the sake of being nice.
So when I sat up abruptly a minute later, letting his hand drop back to his lap, I inhaled this suffering, shuddering breath. I curled my lips behind my teeth and took in the dark scruff lining his jaw, the hard clench of his mouth, and I gulped.
“Would you mind giving me a hug?”
His mouth opened for a split second and his eyes flashed to mine, a trace of something in them. He was silent though, unmoving. I noticed a nerve under his eye twitching.
Dex’s pause had me feeling like a jackass for a minute. If I really thought about it, he didn’t strike me as the hugging type. Plus, I mean, who asks for a hug? Who—
“C’mere,” he urged in his low voice.
I looked at him for a heartbeat, still feeling a little pathetic, but when he shifted onto his hip and lowered his chin to give me this look...I stopped caring. I shuffled forward and just went for it. Arms around his ribs, my forehead to his cheek.
It took a second but his arms wound their way around me. One band over my shoulders, the other around the middle of my back. And he squeezed. Dex held me to him, the faint smell of laundry detergent and Dex filling my nostrils. Warm skin, warm body, warm, warm, warm. So much warmth, this wild choke lodged in my throat.
I took a deep breath and shut my eyes.
He didn’t say anything either, but I felt the deep breath that inflated his chest before he let it out over my ear.
Chapter Twenty-One
"Would you quit looking at me like that?"
For the last five minutes, Dex had been sitting across the counter from me, staring. With his coffee cup raised just over his mouth, those dark blue eyes had been locked in my direction. At first I'd thought that there may have been maple syrup smothered somewhere on me but I'd touched all over and there was nothing there.
Those sleepy eyes were curious and way too intent. And it was probably because I hadn't slept so well after the long crying jag I'd thrown myself into, that it took me what felt like forever to figure out why he was looking at me with so much attention.
"I'm not going to spontaneously burst into tears, Dex," I finally advised him, rolling my eyes before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth.
From the sides of the coffee mug, I could see his lips tilt up just the slightest. What was up with that look in his eye? So. Weird. "Oh, I know you're not," the smug jerk said.
Both my eyebrows went straight up. It was impossible to understand what it was about his little challenges that had started baiting me every single time. "How do you know that?"
Those pink corners of his mouth tipped up even higher. "I told you last night you weren't gonna anymore."
This man. Good lord. I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. My gut was going with amusement. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."
"Yeah, it is."
I blinked at him. "No, it's not, but thank you for hanging in there with me last night." By last night, I meant almost all night.
After the longest hug in the history of the world, he'd turned on the television and we watched what was left of Stargate in silence. Right next to each other, thigh to thigh.
"Whatever, babe," he shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal at all.
But to me it was. To me, what he'd done had been what had kept me up all night. It wasn't the newfound knowledge of my father's indiscretions, or my brother's lies, but Dex. Dex who'd been the complete opposite of The Dick at the bar. How the hell one man could change his colors so quickly was incomprehensible.
That was just Charlie Dex Locke though, I guess. One contradiction after another.
"Whatever," I mocked him in a husky voice, winking before I even realized I'd done it. What the hell had gotten into me?
His gaze was impenetrable. All that cool, gem-like blue zeroed in on me, making me just a little breathless.
I forced a smile onto my face. "Thank you anyway. It was really nice."
Still, he didn't flutter an eyelash as I widened my smile. The only thing he did was lower the coffee mug onto the kitchen countertop, his head tilting to the side. "Baby, just 'cuz you're cute doesn't mean I w
And… my smile came crashing down. Do not think about him referring to your butt as tight, Ris. Focus!
"Just because I've never hit another person in my life doesn't mean I won't make you the first." I blinked coolly. "Charlie."
What did the man do? He laughed.
"I'm serious," I insisted, earning another laugh from him.
"I know, babe," Dex chuckled. "I heard all about you sellin' off the rights to my kneecaps."