Chapter Eighteen

Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-

"Son. Are you down here?"

"Yeah," I respond while trying to catch my breath.

I haven't stopped thinking about Shorty. I've been taking my frustration and anger out on the pull-up bar in our home gym. And seeing her brother? Fuck. I remember running into him at the pit two years ago. I didn't remember what he looked like as a kid since he was hardly around. The look on Shorty's face is something I never want to see again. It was as if her heart broke in pieces and all the bad memories came back to haunt her. Knowing the type of crowd Josiah used to run with makes me worried even more for her.

The way she felt in my arms when I carried her to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. With all the layers she was wearing, I wanted to remove them so she would be more comfortable. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

Josiah's mom entered the room as I was figuring out how I was going to undress her. She was screaming and bawling her eyes out while Josiah was pushing her out of the room. I thought it was because her daughter was drenched from the rain and having an anxiety attack, but she was freaking out because her son was back home. I don't even think she knew I was in the room.

When Josiah closed the door behind him, I made the decision to take care of my girl. How the fuck was I going to do this without wanting to do unforgettable things to her body?

Jesus fucking Christ.

How hard could it be? It's not like I haven't helped change her clothes when we were kids. The difference, Donnie, is that she has boobs and a pussy that needs to be kissed, licked, and bitten.

Get your shit together, D. I rub both hands down my face.

I open her first drawer. Holy fuck. I've never seen so many different colored panties. Shorty was a little freaky that way as a kid. She had day of the week panties in different colors. I remember how excited she was to show me. She pulled up her denim skirt with a big smile and said, "Look, Doni! I have undies for every day of the week!"

Fighting the urge to rummage through her panties, I close the drawer and open the second one. Bingo. Pjs. Her pjs are nicely folded and organized by style The shorts and tanks are on the top, and the pants and long sleeves are on the bottom. I grab the first set on top. It's a baby blue two-piece pajama set with a V-neck tank top, lace trim, and boy shorts.

Hot damn.

Walking toward Shorty, I remove her wet shoes and socks, and make my way to her bottoms. I'm fucking nervous as hell. It's not like I've never removed girls' clothes before, but this is Shorty. I lick my lips, wondering what it would feel like to be inside her, or what she tastes like. My cock is being brought to life just staring at her, ready to do very bad things to her.

What the hell am I doing? I can't think of her like this. She's my best friend. What kind of sick fuck am I?

"Dude! What the fuck are you doing?" Jo whisper yells. "You can't fucking undress my sister."

I raise my hands in the air in surrender. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure she was comfortable. She's soaked." I gesture with my hand to Shorty.

He runs his hands down his face. "Alright. I'll ask Mom to take care of it."

He walks toward me while he gravely stares at his sister's face. The more he stares at her, his expression changes to what looks like regret. There's something more to what's going on in this house.

Josiah turns to face me. "Look bro, thank you for bringing her in here, but there's a lot of shit you don't know. It's best if you leave and let us take care of her."

"No, I—"

He puts his hand up and shakes his head. "Nah, man. Trust me, let me handle this, ok? Look, I know how much you care about her, but I'm here and I won't let anything happen to her."

I don't argue with him. I know how much he loves and cares for Shorty. He protected her all those years when I couldn't. I nod and. cover Shorty's tiny little body with her blanket and get down on my knees.

Bending down, I bring my lips to her ear. "Sweet dreams." Then I bury my head against the crook of her neck.

God, she smells so good.

I kiss her neck and gently caress her cheek with my knuckles. Her eyes flutter like she's dreaming.

As I stand up and walk past Josiah, I place my hand on the doorknob, but Josiah stops me. "Um, it would be best if you went out the window."

I chuckle as I approach the window. With one foot out, I say, "Keep her safe."

"Always."

Dad walks down a few steps until I'm in his view. "Can we talk?" He raises his voice over Eminem's "Lose Yourself."

"Yeah." I jump off the bar and walk toward the bench. Grabbing the towel, I shut off the stereo while wiping the sweat from my face.

"What's up?" I look at my dad. He's technically my stepdad, but he's been the only male figure in my life, so he has earned the father title.

Dad takes a few more steps in my direction. He must've just gotten home from work since he's wearing a dark gray virgin wool Amalif suit by Brioni.

"I wanted to see how you're doing." He looks at me curiously while he rolls his wedding band around his finger.

"I'm alright." I take a swig of water from my water bottle.

"That's good, very good." He looks around like he's uncomfortable .

"What's going on, Dad?"

He sighs and lowers his head for a minute before looking back up at me. "It's about your mom."

"What about Mom?" Panic begins to rear its ugly head. I'm still pissed at her, but I would lose my shit if anything were to happen to her. Dad can sense my emotions since his eyes go wide and he waves his hand in the air dismissively.

"No, no, it's ok, she's ok."

Thank God.

"Your mother told me about the little girl from your past," he continues in a sympathetic tone.

Ah. I have a feeling he's going to tell me she meant well with her decision, that she did it to protect me, blah, blah, blah. Dad hates the silent treatment and ends up being the mediator. But this is not like the time she threw away my Legos after she tripped over them, or when she took my car keys away when she found me passed out in the front of the house drunk off my ass. No, this is a huge fucking betrayal.

Taking another swig of my water. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Son, your mother loves you. You need to put your differences aside." He says it like I have no choice in the matter. "Ash has forgiven her. Why can't you, son?"

"Forgive her? Are you kidding me? She took the one person who meant everything to me, and then lied, making me believe she was dead. Do you not understand the guilt and pain I felt all those years? Do you realize the damage her lie caused?" My chest is heaving, and my breathing is getting out of control.

Dad senses I'm starting to lose my shit. He knows I have anger issues and can barely control it half the time. Between him, Ash, and the guys, they are the only ones who can reel me back in. I gave Troy Johnson a black eye and broke his nose in middle school for cutting in the lunch line.

Since then, I've gotten into more fights—sent to jail for the night for vandalism, took a bat to a teacher's car just because I had to serve detention for the whole week, and threw one of my rival team players out a window for being an asshole. I can be an uncontrollable fucking psycho when I'm pushed to my limit. I was forced to take a judge-ordered anger management class my freshman year ordered by a judge. If I kept fucking up, they were going to send me to boot camp.

Dad puts both his hands on my shoulders, giving me a stern look. "Son, your mother meant well. Do you really want to hold this against her for the rest of your life? You are going to college next year and making pro. Don't let this get between you. Forgive her and move forward. Sadie is alive and well, that should mean something. Right? You have a second chance with her."

Shaking my head in frustration, I sink down onto the bench behind me and lean against the wall, facing the ceiling. I know he's right. He's always right. I love my mother. I can't stay mad at her forever, but anger helps dull the pain tearing at my heart.

Dad sits beside me and pats my knee. "It's ok to be upset. You have every right to be angry. But don't let it consume you. Take this moment to get to know the little girl again from your childhood. Make every moment count."

"She's not so little anymore." I face him and give him a smirk.

"No, son, I'm sure she's not." He laughs, shaking his head.

Silence takes over until I finally break it. "It hurts. It hurt for years. I've never felt this kind of pain before." I swallow, closing my eyes while trying to relieve the heaviness in my chest.

"I know it does, son," he quietly responds, looking straight ahead. "I can see how much you care about her. How much she means to you."

"She grew up to be so beautiful. Still has sass, but she's fucking gorgeous, Dad." I don't know why I'm sharing this with him, but it makes me feel better knowing she is alive and back in my life.

"I bet she is. Your mother showed me pictures of you both when you were children. Latinas are very beautiful women." He chuckles. "Don't tell your mother."

"Your secret is safe with me." I laugh while making an X, crossing my heart. We sit for another few minutes laughing as I share my Shorty stories from our past. It's the happy memories that kept Shorty alive when I thought she was gone. When I wondered if she would be proud of me, or if we would've dated in middle school or high school. The relationship we had was so strong not even a tornado could rip us apart. She was, is my everything. I never want to let her go now that I know she's alive. I wonder now what direction this will lead us.

The sound of Dad's ringtone interrupts my thoughts.

"It's work. Are you going to be ok?" he asks as he stands up.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Good. I'm glad, son. I'll be back in an hour or so." He pats me on the back as he walks toward the door.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?" He stops to face me.

"Thank you."

He nods, smiles wide, and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts about the little girl who stole my heart.