Chapter One

Chapter One

The Boxer

Rock Chick Rewind

Some time ago…

“I cannot believe we scored tickets to Prince,” Ally shrieked.

“That lick, the one that starts off ‘When Doves Cry,’ man,” Indy was fanning herself.

I was trying not to freak out.

We were hanging in the front of Ellen, Indy’s grandma’s bookstore, Fortnum’s. There were some beat-up leather couches (that were super comfortable) and armchairs so people could chill out after they bought their books and read.

And off to the side, there were some tables and chairs, where right then, two old guys were playing chess. A checkers board was set up at another. And in pure Ellen style, because Indy’s grandma went her own way, Battleship was set up on the last.

“Lee! Will you take us?” Indy shouted to where Lee Nightingale, Indy’s huge crush, was sitting with Eddie Chavez and Darius Tucker in some armchairs not close, but not far.

Lee, acting like he didn’t know Indy was there (when, let’s face it, he was at Fortnum’s because Indy was—I wasn’t sure what was keeping those two apart (yes, I was, it was Lee being a stupid boy), but it had to end or they’d both spontaneously combust), turned his head her way.

Darius didn’t have to turn his head our way. He’d been staring at me for a while.

The reason I was failing at not freaking out.

“No fucking way,” Lee replied to Indy. “I still haven’t gotten over your bullshit when I was your ride to Def Leppard.”

Lee had a foul mouth. Sadly, it was attractive, but only because he was top to toe hot.

Not as hot as Darius, and I wasn’t into white guys, but still.

Also, I’d heard about that Def Leppard thing with Indy and Ally and how Lee, Eddie and Darius got dragged in (like they often did because Indy couldn’t get enough of Lee, Lee couldn’t get enough of Indy, Eddie also couldn’t get enough of Indy, a tangled web, so unsurprisingly, shizzle happened). The whole high school had heard about it.

The story was hilarious.

I still hoped nothing like that happened at the Prince concert. I really liked Indy and Ally. They were fun and sweet and nice, but I wasn’t a shenanigans type of girl.

Indy and Ally were synonymous with shenanigans.

“A master at his craft.” Ellen flitted through wearing some weird, filmy muumuu and a terry-cloth braided headband around her forehead, her wispy white hair a cloudy wonder of flips and curls haloing her entire skull, though, the part of it at the crown was tamped down by the headband. “That meaning the Purple One,” she explained.

She smiled and winked at me.

I smiled back.

You really never knew what you’d get with Ellen. Fortnum’s was a cool place to hang (though, they needed a coffee counter or a soda fountain or something), and Ellen was the reason it was. She was a bit weird, but in a good way, and she welcomed everybody. I’d even seen her ask a homeless person in, sending Duke off to go buy the guy a sandwich.

Today it was that muumuu. Last week it was a fringed vest and jeans and high-heeled sandals with sparkles that would go better with an outfit you’d wear to the Oscars.

Though, her terry-cloth headband was ever present. As far as I could tell, she had one in every color, just as long as that color was pastel.

She loved it that Indy and her friends and half the high school hung at her store, even if none of them bought books (that being them, I bought books all the time).

“I’ll drop you girls at the concert,” Ellen offered.

Indy looked upset because Lee blew her off, even if she replied, “Thanks, Gram.”

Yeesh.

Lee was acting like a jerk. And if he didn’t get himself together, he was going to lose that girl.

I mean, she was younger than him, she was also younger than me, but not that much younger.

I saw movement in the stacks and looked that way.

Dukewas there, his dark hair graying, his beard getting out of control.

I got up, because he was my dealer, he had something to pimp, and I could never resist what he was pimping.

I didn’t look at Darius as I passed where he was sitting because I might trip or something, which would be so embarrassing, I wouldn’t be able to deal. I wasn’t sure Mom would accept the excuse of, “I can’t go to school for the next two years because I tripped in front of a hottie.”

Though, she’d get it, she just wouldn’t accept it.

Dad definitely wouldn’t (and he wouldn’t get it either).

As I made it his way, Duke turned and sauntered deeper into the bookshelves.

I followed him, thinking I loved the smell of Fortnum’s. Must and dust, the portal to a million different worlds, a cornucopia of knowledge.

I’d just started hanging with Indy and Ally, mostly because I’d started hanging at Fortnum’s, seeing as that’s where the kids hung.

And the first time I went there, I fell in love with it.

Now it was my favorite place on Earth.

Duke moved into a row.

P-Q-R-S, fiction.

I followed him.

When I stopped in front of him, he lifted his hand and offered me a book. Fahrenheit 451.

I took it even though I said, “We read this in school last September.”

“Read it again when you don’t have to write a term paper on it.”

I smiled at him. “Is there a difference?”

“There’s reading something because you want to get a good grade, and there’s reading something because every person on Earth needs to read it and get it.”

Well, I thought I got the book when I read it, but right then, I got him. We shared a love of words. We had a different language than other people.

Since he knew I understood him, he nodded and took off, as usual (Duke was a man of few words, the spoken kind, the other kind, he had gazillions to offer).

As was becoming our way, I didn’t follow.

I leaned against the shelves and opened up the book, knowing what I’d get.

This time, it was “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel.

Duke always put a sheet of handwritten song lyrics in front of the books he gave me. He said there was poetry everywhere, you just had to look for it.

To prove his point, in one of the books he gave me, he once put a snapshot he took of a fawn and its mother in the forest around his cabin up in Evergreen. It wasn’t the greatest picture of all time. But it was pure poetry.

I read the words of the song.

And at the bottom, I read Duke’s note:

They’ll cut you ‘til you cry out.

Be the boxer.

Remain.

“Hey.”

I jumped, fumbled the book, the note fell out and fluttered to the floor, but I didn’t go for it, because Darius Tucker was standing right there.

Right there.

“Uh…uh…”

Oh my God!

I was strangling. Why was I strangling?

I couldn’t breathe!

His lips curled up at the ends before he crouched and picked up the paper, straightened and held it out to me.

“You dropped this,” he said.

My hand was trembling when I took it and forced out, “Yeah.”

He looked down, and it was only then I realized he wasn’t letting go of the paper.

This meant he had his fingers on the paper, and I had my fingers on the paper, which was only two steps away from us, like, holding hands!

“What is it?” he asked.

“What?”

He dipped his head to the paper, and I lost track of what was happening, considering all I could think about was how smooth his skin seemed, how warm and soulful his brown eyes were, how long and curly his eyelashes looked, how beautiful his lips were formed.

He gently tugged on the paper. “This.”

“What?”

He smiled, wide and white, it made his expressive eyes taper, his cheekbones pop out.

Okay…um…

What was going on with my legs? I was having trouble standing.

“Malia?”

“Hunh?”

“You okay?”

“Uh…uh…”

Oh Lord! I was strangling again!

He pulled the paper from my fingers and looked at it.

“I know this song,” he said.

I said nothing because I had to focus all my attention on not passing out.

“Why’s Duke giving you song lyrics?” he asked.

I didn’t answer because I couldn’t.

And…okay, this was stupid.

I had to get myself together.

Indy wouldn’t stand here like a moron, uhing and fighting for breath.

Ally would have probably kissed him by now just so he’d be under no illusions she was into him.

I jerked my head from side to side to shake myself out of it and replied, “It’s poetry. He gives me stuff to make me think, you know, like, to decipher it. Figure out what it’s about.”

Even though I’d made the mammoth effort to string some words together, I wasn’t sure he was listening to me.

I knew he wasn’t when I saw the expression on his face when he looked at me again.

“Who’s cutting you ’til you cry out?” he growled.

Oh my.

I’d never heard a boy growl.

Hearing it, something was happening in other regions of my body, not just my legs and my ability to provide it with oxygen. That something felt very good, at the same time it was utterly terrifying.

“No one. It’s just…life. Life will…I haven’t had a good look at it, and I’m not sure I know that song, but from what I could tell, it’s about life. You know, standing strong like a boxer when life hits you. Um…I think.”

He handed me the paper again, this time letting it go when I took it.

“No one’s gonna cut you,” he said, staring straight in my eyes.

“Life is life, Darius,” I whispered, then for good measure, shrugged.

Did I look like a dork shrugging?

I looked like a dork shrugging.

I shouldn’t have shrugged.

Someone kill me!

“You’ll never have to be the boxer, Malia.”

It was said soft, but strong, and that did funny things to my heart.

All I could think to say was, “Okay.”

“Wanna go out?” he asked.

There was only one thing to say to that.

“Okay,” I repeated.

Darius again smiled.

I again almost swooned (now I was getting all that romance novel nonsense, which apparently wasn’t nonsense at all, shoo!)

I didn’t swoon.

I kept it together.

And smiled back.

* * * *

We neared the crest, and as I continued to pretend the hike wasn’t killing me, Darius, who was a few paces ahead of me (and not breathing hard at all!), stopped and looked to me with a brilliant smile on his face.

“Here it is,” he said, then turned his head to look back over the crest.

I stopped beside him and didn’t, at first, look where he was looking.

I was watching him.

It was our first date. He’d taken me up to the mountains. And if the big backpack and small cooler he was carrying was any indication, we were going to have a picnic.

At least, I hoped we were going to have a picnic. That hike was long, and most of it was uphill.

I was a cheerleader. It wasn’t like I wasn’t in shape.

But…dang.

Seriously, altitude was no joke.

Now I was hungry, thrilled we were finally there, even more thrilled the way back was all downhill, all of this while being thrilled I was with Darius at the same time hoping the massive effort I’d put into getting ready that morning hadn’t been in vain.

In one of our five (yes five, in less than that many days!) phone conversations since he asked me out at Fortnum’s, Darius had warned me I needed to wear comfortable clothes for our date. He told me we were going into the mountains, the hike was a little over a mile, and it’d take some effort.

Although on the face of it that sounded romantic, it was harder than heck to figure out what to wear during a date like that.

So hard, my sister Lena and best friend Toni had spent two hours rejecting outfits I tried on until I found the right one.

We’d decided jean shorts and a cute little top that was orange and had a gold design in it. It was gathered at the high neckline and held up by a spaghetti strap that ran through the front and back of the material.

I wore my hair straightened, and I’d twisted it up in a messy topknot. But I was worried that the wisps of hair around my face that I’d laid down so carefully had now peeled away and gone curly and made it all look just plain messy.

Since Darius didn’t stop looking at whatever “here” was, I turned my head that way.

And caught my breath.

In front of me, a wide basin lay, flanked by mountain peaks and filled with wildflowers.

“Oh my God,” I whispered reverently.

“Hank found it,” Darius told me.

Hank being Lee Nightingale’s older brother, a guy everyone knew even if he’d already graduated because he was a) a talented athlete, b) super sweet and c) gorgeous, so he was also d) very popular.

Hank was also the antithesis of Lee’s bad boy. Perfect grades. Perfect boyfriend (reportedly). The boy next door. The good guy.

“We hike up here all the time,” Darius went on.

“It’s amazing,” I told him.

He took my hand, and I looked to him.

“C’mon,” he said softly, his eyes on me in a way I suddenly didn’t care if the wisps around my face got too wispy.

Actually, theway he was gazing at me, I felt the kind of beautiful you just always knew you were, no matter what your hair looked like or your outfit or whatever.

You could be in the throes of delirium from a bad flu, sweaty and nasally, raw-nosed and croaky, having a wracking cough, and Darius would look at you like that.

No.

Look at me like that.

Oh my.

He guided me to a place among some aspen trees, the wind sifting through the silver-dollar-sized leaves, making a kind of soft music that was the perfect soundtrack to this adventure.

There I found, after he shrugged off his backpack and put down the cooler, I’d been right. He pulled out a blanket and spread it on the ground then gestured for me to sit.

He sat with me, and out of the cooler came some sodas and bottles of water, sandwiches, then from the backpack came a big bag of chips and some homemade cookies.

He’d even remembered to bring napkins.

“Mom made the cookies for us,” he told me as he set them on the blanket.

Okay, so maybe his mom reminded him to bring napkins.

But when he shared this, I felt something strange. Strange and beautiful.

Because he said that not like it was simply a fact, or with any nuance he was embarrassed about his mom making him cookies to take on his date, but like he was proud of it.

It was then it hit me. One of the reasons I liked him (outside of him being so cute, and tall, and his lashes so perfect).

He just knew who he was.

I had no idea who I was. I didn’t know anyone our age that knew who they were.

But Darius did.

He knew the perfect place to take a first date and he loved his mom and didn’t care who knew it.

Having these thoughts, something was happening. Something fierce and frightening and wonderful, all at once, and I wasn’t feeling it because I was out with the cutest, most popular boy in school.

“That’s sweet,” I replied, but my voice was husky with the thoughts I was thinking and the things I was feeling.

He smiled at me then unwrapped his sandwich.

He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, then looked again to me while I was chewing my own bite. “I want you to know that it’s only ever been Lee, Eddie, Hank and me that have come up here.”

In other words, this wasn’t his normal date spot, where he took girls to impress them with his romantic sensibilities and picnic-packing capabilities in an effort to get into their pants.

It was a spot for him and his buddies.

And me.

Lord.

There they were, more things I was feeling. Lots more. Oodles more.

And they were all awesome.

“Oh,” was all I could think to say.

“Yeah,” he replied, that smile still in place, a tease in his voice. “Oh.”

“It’s beautiful,” I told him.

“I know,” he said, not taking his gaze from me.

I pressed my lips together because he wasn’t talking about the meadow, and knowing I was correct earlier, that Darius thought I was beautiful, pushed its way to the top of my feelings, and that feeling felt amazing.

“Eat,” he encouraged, “So we can get into the fun stuff.”

I wasn’t sure what he considered “the fun stuff.”

I just knew, with a sense that was fierce and frightening and wonderful, whatever it was, I wanted to do it with Darius.

* * * *

“The fun stuff,” it would turn out, was lying on our backs and watching the clouds drift by.

You might not think this was fun…as such.

But lying on my back beside Darius, our fingers linked and resting where he’d pulled them, on his flat belly, our arms pressed together, both our knees bent (and every once in a while, he’d move his leg and bump it against mine, which was adorable and electrifying, both at the same time), talking and watching the clouds drift by was the best time I’d ever had in my life.

“Do you ever try to see things in the clouds?” I asked. “Like dragons or elephants?”

“Do you see something like that?”

I lifted my free hand (because, straight up, I wasn’t letting go of his, no way, no how) and pointed. “Well, that one kinda looks like a T-Rex.”

“Which one?”

I looped my finger. “That one.”

“I don’t see it.”

I turned my head on the blanket and looked at his profile. “Maybe squint?”

He squinted. It was adorable too.

I started giggling.

He turned his head to look at me, his lips moving like he was fighting a smile, before he asked, “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” I lied. “I totally see a dinosaur.”

Something changed in his eyes, and suddenly, he let my hand go as he turned to his side and got up on a forearm.

For the second time on that mountain, my breath caught, this time because of the expression on his face.

“You ever been kissed, Malia?” he asked, his voice soft.

I liked the tone of his voice, but…

Uh…

I was so sure!

“You’re not the first date I’ve ever had, Darius Tucker,” I returned.

I mean, really.

Did he not think I lived a life until he walked down that row at Fortnum’s to me?

“No, I mean properly kissed,” he replied.

Oh, now I really knew what he meant.

I turned and got up on my forearm too.

“You’re hot and all, but that is not where this is going,” I told him. Because,gah! This was our first date! Feeling something crushing my chest in a manner that caused actual physical pain, I suggested, “Maybe we should head back down the mountain.”

“You’re misunderstanding me,” he said.

“I am?” I asked but didn’t wait for his answer. I ordered, “So clear things up.”

He shook his head, looked away, then back at me, “I guess I’m asking if it’s okay if I can kiss you.”

Not expecting that, I stared at him.

“If you’re not ready, then I can wait for when you’re ready,” he hurried on. “But I’d really like to—”

He didn’t finish because I leaned forward and kissed him.

It was chaste, no tongue.

Then it was not chaste, I was again on my back on the blanket, Darius’s chest pressed to mine, and there was lots of tongue and even more happening to my body.

It was a warm day, but I wasn’t warm.

I was hot.

Burning up as the wind whispered through the aspens and Darius’s tongue played in my mouth.

It felt perfect.

Because it was perfect.

But Darius didn’t even try for second base. He cut off the kiss by putting his hand to my face, lifting his head away and sweeping his thumb across my lips.

This gesture was as sweet as him asking for a kiss.

“We should probably stop now,” he whispered.

I was having trouble breathing.

So he was right.

“Do you wanna head back?” he offered. “Or watch the clouds more?”

I wanted to kiss more, but he didn’t offer that option.

So I took the one I wanted most, in that moment, in all the world.

“Clouds.”

He grinned.

“Anyway, we haven’t eaten your mom’s cookies yet,” I pointed out.

“You’re right, we haven’t,” he agreed. “You wanna walk around, get a different view?”

I didn’t want to leave that spot for the rest of my life.

I shook my head.

He settled back down, filtered his fingers through mine and put our hands to his belly again.

“Then we’ll stay right here,” he murmured.

That was the first time Darius Tucker gave me what I wanted, no discussion, no hassle.

It would be far from the last.

* * * *

Darius took hold of my wrists and pulled my hands from his behind to between us.

This was a feat, considering he was flat-out on top of me on the couch in his parents’ rec room (which used to be their garage).

“Baby,” he said after he tore his mouth from mine, sounding like he was choking on something, at the same time sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

“Why’d you stop me?” I asked, sounding annoyed, which I was.

Whenever we started to get to the good part, he kept doing that!

He touched his lips to mine, lifted his head and stated. “Malia, I’m not gonna have our first time being on an old, grungy couch in my parents’ garage.”

This was his constant refrain, ever since I told him I was a virgin (and this happened on our first date, under the clouds, hours after our first kiss, when we’d talked about everything, well…under the clouds, and that was months ago).

“Argh,” I grumbled, arching my neck and looking at the arm of the couch.

“How ’bout this?” he murmured, now just sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

But I wasn’t paying attention to what he sounded like.

I was paying attention to what his hand was doing, that being going down my stomach, toward the waistband of my jeans, also toward my…

“Darius,” I whispered.

He touched his lips to mine again, but didn’t go far away when he told me, “We’re gonna go back to the meadow.”

His hand went inside my jeans.

“And I’m gonna bring some fancy shit for us to eat,” he went on, his fingers curling in.

My neck arched for a different reason this time.

He kissed my throat, and his fingers…

His fingers…

They worked magic.

His lips were now at my ear. “And we’re gonna watch the clouds go by again. And while we do, like the last time, we’re gonna talk about everything there is to talk about…”

I squirmed under him, feeling it, the muscles down there rippling, my breasts seemed heavy, my nipples were tingling, and he wasn’t even touching them.

I was getting close. I’d heard about them—orgasms—but I’d never had one, and the way his fingers moved, the pressure he was putting on, it wasn’t just right.

It was everything.

“Then I’m gonna tell you I love you, and after that, I’m gonna make love to you,” he whispered in my ear just as it happened.

I came for the first time…for Darius.

I started to cry out, but he kissed me so all I was feeling, all he’d given me was swallowed by his mouth, coaxed deeper by his tongue.

It was phenomenal.

His hand was gone when it was over, but it was like he sensed it had washed through me, because, with perfect timing, he rolled us so I was cocooned between the back of the couch and Darius.

I’d been here before (we did a lot of making out, we also did a lot of cuddling), and it was my second favorite place to be (my first favorite was where I was ten seconds ago, and my new first favorite place for Darius’s hand to be was where it was thirty seconds ago).

But even if I’d had my first orgasm, given to me by Darius Tucker, my boyfriend, the best boyfriend in history, the sweetest, most thoughtful, loving, teasing, awesome boyfriend of all time…

I was stuck on what he’d said when he’d given it to me.

“You love me?” I asked.

“I love your big, chocolaty eyes. And I love your pointy chin.”

Ugh.

“I don’t have a pointy chin. My face is oval.”

“It’s a beautiful chin,” he muttered before he kissed it. “It’s still pointy.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

“And I love how short you are,” he carried on.

For heaven’s sake.

“I’m not short, I’m average,” I told him, though, in all honesty, maybe I was a tad bit on the low side of that. “It’s just that you’re tall.”

“So…short to me. Still short,” he teased.

I pushed at his shoulders (however, it must be noted, I did this half-heartedly). “Darius, be serious.”

When he looked me in the eyes again, my heart stuttered to a halt.

Because he was being serious.

Deadly serious.

“I love your perfect nose and your thick lower lip and the shape of your eyebrows,” he continued.

I wouldn’t say my lower lip was “thick,” more like “full” (though, even I liked the arch of my brows, it rocked). But I wasn’t going to interrupt him.

No way.

Thus, he kept going.

“And your gorgeous skin and your huge smile and the fact you use words like ‘alcove’ and ‘omnipotent’ that no one else knows what the fuck they mean.”

I started giggling even though I kind of wanted to start crying.

Darius wasn’t done talking.

“And I love how you get on with my sisters, even though they’re pains in the asses, and when you’re over, you always help Mom with dinner, and you sit and listen to Dad going on about the Rockies or the Nuggets or whatever, like you give a shit, when you don’t.”

One must say, I wasn’t a sports person.

But I loved Darius’s dad, and he was, so there you go.

“Darius,” I whispered.

“But I’m not gonna tell you until we’re under the clouds, or the stars, or whenever we stop talking, even though something else I love about you is that we always have something to talk about.”

Okay, it was safe to say, I was feeling this.

Feeling everything.

I knew what my dad would say about what I was feeling. He would say it’s too soon, being sixteen and finding the guy of your dreams that you know you want to spend the rest of your life with.

My mom would say that too.

(Lena wouldn’t, she adored Darius and already told me she wanted him as her brother.)

But I knew it.

I knew it now and ten minutes ago and when he tickled me so much last week, disaster nearly struck because I was this close to peeing my pants.

And when he helped my dad, who had no sons, but had started treating Darius like one, put in our new kitchen cupboards.

And when Darius took me out to a fancy dinner on our one-month anniversary.

And again on our two-month one (you get the picture).

And on our first date in the wildflowers.

And all the times in between.

I knew it.

I might not know everything about myself, who I was or who I was going to be.

I just knew, whoever that was, I’d be her with Darius.

“So, yeah, it’s gonna be special,” he concluded. “When I say that and when we do that.”

“Okay.” My reply was soft.

His answering smile was tender.

I touched my fingers to it in wonder, even if I’d seen it before. It was just that wonderful.

I lifted my eyes to his. “But can I say it now?”

His arms around me got tighter and he shook his head.

But he said, “You don’t have to say it, baby. You show it all the time.”

Okay, the tears were coming.

So when I said, “I try,” it sounded croaky.

“You succeed,” he assured.

I was glad. So, so glad he knew I loved him. He deserved that. And more.

Everything I could give him, everything, it was his.

To communicate that, I kissed him.

He kissed me back then ended it before it got too much for the both of us (See? Annoying!).

And then we cuddled on the couch and watched a movie.

I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the movie.

I was reveling in the fact that this would be my life. Me and Darius and talking and kissing and TV and nights out and family and friends and knowing Darius had been right back in the stacks of Fortnum’s when he told me nothing would ever cut me.

I’d found him, and I’d done it early.

So I knew down to my soul, nothing ever would.

No, that wasn’t right.

We’d found each other so we had it all.

And I knew, lying in his arms, feeling his long, strong body behind mine, smelling him all around me, we always would.

* * * *

Not long later…

“Malia, honey, come on down. We’ve got to go,” my mom called.

I didn’t want to go.

I really, really didn’t want to go.

But I had to go.

However, I had to do something else first.

I sat at my desk, the paper Duke gave me at Fortnum’s what seemed like forever ago on top, my notebook open next to it, and I was copying the words of the song.

And just like Duke did, I wrote at the bottom:

They’ll cut you ‘til you cry out.

Be the boxer.

Remain.

But I finished mine with:

I’m here for you, forever.

Love you always, Malia

I tore the page out of my notebook, folded it so it was little and tucked it into my purse.

Then I walked down the stairs to go with my parents to Darius’s dad’s funeral.

* * * *

One week later…

I knew Ally didn’t want to, but she did.

She passed the note to me in the hallway at school that day, the look on her face saying it all.

I didn’t need the look. I felt the look. We all did.

Darius’s dad, Morris had been murdered.

It was unthinkable. Unconscionable.

And, no surprise, those two were exactly alike, super close, Darius being the apple who proudly stuck close to Morris’s tree, it had torn Darius apart.

I knew the writing on the outside, the slants and drifts that spelled my name, so I knew I couldn’t open it, until now.

I was home from school, up in my room.

He was gone from me, which was bad, considering I was pregnant with our child.

Yes, we’d been back to the meadow…and then some.

Mom didn’t know about the pregnancy…yet.

Dad didn’t either…yet.

Darius didn’t know about it either…yet.

So obviously none of them knew I was going to find a way. I was going to figure it out. I was keeping our baby. The baby we made together amidst his sweetness and kisses that made me melt and tender teasing and the love in his eyes when he looked at me like there was no other girl in the whole world and he was going to be my shelter from every storm until I died…

At least they didn’t know…yet.

But I talked to Mom about Darius and how he had shut down, gone somewhere dark, somewhere scary.

“Grief, sweetheart, it’s nasty business,” Mom had shared. “I know you’re grieving Mister Morris too. He was a good man. But you have to seek patience. Darius will find his way.”

I wasn’t sure. Since that day in the shelves at Fortnum’s, we’d spent as much time together as we could, and if we couldn’t be together, we were on the phone talking to each other about people we knew, dreams we had, plans we needed to make to realize them, and how we felt about each other.

I knew him pretty well.

And this wasn’t him. This flatness. The blankness. The seething anger barely contained under the surface.

And then there was the fact I was sixteen and pregnant.

Yeah, I had some worries and patience wasn’t going to work.

I couldn’t tell my uterus, “You know, you need to hang tight for a month or two or eleven while your daddy figures stuff out. You can carry on gestating after that.”

I mean, I could try, but I wasn’t sure he or she would listen.

Now, I had that note from him and I didn’t know what was inside.

It could be him pouring out his heart to me, doing it on paper, because boys were weird about showing emotion.

And Lord, he loved his dad. I loved my dad too, like, a lot, but I could see it was a different thing with boys. It was almost worship. And I understood that. Mister Morris was that kind of man, that kind of father. He’d deserved it.

It could be something else.

I didn’t have time to wait. I had enough to figure out, so there was no time to wait.

I unfolded the note.

What I read made my insides go hollow.

I didn’t want to, but I forced myself to read it all again.

Lyrics.

To a song.

Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt.”

With a note at the end that said, We’re done. If you know what’s good for you, stay away from me. -D

I knew exactly what was good for me, which was why I grabbed the phone on my bedside table and dialed his home number.

No one answered.

And later, one of the times Miss Dorothea or one of Darius’s sisters answered the phone, they were sweet, they sounded sad, but every single time, Darius refused to take my calls.

* * * *

Fast Forward – Hit Play

Now…

We stood in the hospital waiting room with Duke and the gang was all there.

All ofthe gang was there.

The place was crowded, standing room only.

But I didn’t have it in me to take them in, to look for familiar faces.

All I could think about was Darius.

And Ally, who was in front of us, her gaze on my son.

“That’s your father’s,” she announced.

I moved close to my boy as Liam’s eyes got huge and they were fixed to Ally’s bloody hand.

I heard a gasp.

Dorothea.

Damn.

She didn’t know about Liam…

Yet.

Well, now she knew.

“Don’t, Ally,” Eddie bit out.

“Lay down the truth, darlin’.” Duke’s rough voice encouraged. Ally looked to him. So did I. He nodded to Ally. “Now’s the time.”

“It’s not the fuckin’ time,” Lee bit out.

Ally’s attention returned to my son.

“A bad guy was touching me,” she declared. “Your father had already been shot in both legs and slammed in the head with a tire iron, but he still got him off me. He barely got a hand on me, and your father dragged himself to me and pulled him off. I was drugged. I couldn’t defend myself or help him. But he kept him off me even when that asshole stabbed him. He kept him off me until help came. Blood pouring out of him, and he kept him off me.”

“Ally—” I whispered, my voice pained, because I was pained.

I got her need to do this, I hated what had happened to her, but my need was finding out if the love of my life was going to survive all of that.

Ally spoke over me.

“Look around you,” Ally ordered Liam. “All these people, this,” she jerked her bloody hand in the air, “that’s your father.” She turned to me. “I don’t know what went down with Eddie and Lee. What I know is if Darius makes it through this, he’s gonna stay away. From you. From his son.” She swung an arm out behind her. “From everybody.”

She took a step toward us. Liam put an arm around my waist and pulled me back just as Lee put an arm around Ally to stop her.

“Don’t let him, please,” she pleaded in a whisper.

“Zano, a little help,” Lee said about two seconds before he released Ally.

He did this because a dark-haired, fine-looking man clamped down on her with both arms.

His lips at her ear, he said, “All right, baby, that’s out. Now come sit with me.”

“Don’t let him,” she repeated to me.

Okay, she was flipping out.

I had other things on my mind, but this was something I could sortpretty easily.

So, before she could turn away (or be pulled away by her fine-looking man, trust Ally to score that long drink of hot water), I moved forward and caught her hands.

“I talked with Liam this morning and he wants to meet his dad,” I whispered.

Ally looked uncomfortable.

Yeah, her big speech was effective, but unnecessary.

“Well, uh…that’s good,” she muttered.

I tipped my head to the side, and even though I still had other, more pressing things to think about, I felt a small smile play at my mouth, because this was pure Ally, and boy…

I’dmissed her.

I squeezed her hands. “I see you haven’t changed.”

“Nope,” she agreed, and her gaze strayed to Liam. “Though I’m not usually this crazy.”

My kid was smart. In this instance, his intelligence showed in the fact that he looked like he didn’t believe her.

“Yes, she is,” Eddie said.

Ally glared at Eddie.

Then her man pulled her away, but she squeezed my hands back before she let me go.

I looked to Dorothea.

She was staring at Liam with a face full of wonder mingled with nuances of hurt.

I’d have to tackle that later.

But for now, I turned to Eddie.

“News?” I asked.

He shook his head, his expression grim.

My heart slid back up into my throat, a place it had taken residence in since Duke told us what was happening in my kitchen.

And my son pulled me closer.