Let Me Go (17 page)

At the age of twenty-four, it isn’t hard to figure out now. “Your dad used your mom.”

She huffs and crosses her legs. “They used each other. I blamed my dad for years, refusing to see him on his time. Blatantly yelling at him, telling him how horrible of a person he was. After I started downright refusing to see him, he never let my mom seduce him no matter how much she tried. And believe me, she tried.”

Here I figured she had a screwed up mom, but a decent dad who bought his princess everything. Picking up her head, her raw and tearful eyes, guilt me for being the man whore I’ve been. “She couldn’t let go of the fact he didn’t want her. She couldn’t accept the fact that she was a hot one-night stand turned nightmare clingy baby mama.”

“Shit,” I mumble. She could have given me a little warning before throwing that bomb out there.

“Carl is the same thing, except he hangs around because of the money.” Her breathing picks up and her arms wrap around her stomach. She’s keeping something under the vest. “My dad has a lot of money. After I turned eighteen, she lost the child support. So, my dad issues me the money. He pays for my car, my school and my expenses. Without him knowing, he pays for her rent and things.”

“How?”

“My dad overpays me, but I also go without. He thinks I want to live with roommates because I want the full experience of college. Because the rent’s cheaper, he deposits extra money into my bank account.” She blows out a huge breath and it must feel good to be so truthful with someone else. “It’s the only reason I haven’t taken Matty from her. I know she seems God awful and I hate that you had to witness what happened tonight, but Matty makes her better. If I don’t hear from her, I stop by and if she’s having a hard time, I usually take him.”

“You gave her such a hard time yesterday.”

Her teeth nail down on her lip and wetness fills her beautiful hazel eyes. “Yeah. Well, sometimes I get overwhelmed. She’s been on me for more money. I just gave her money for Matty’s baseball to find out she never signed him up.” She throws the picture to the ground and I inch forward, taking her hand in mine. “It’s so ridiculous, Rob. She’s his mother; why can’t she just act like it?” Her head falls to my chest and my hand begins smoothing down her hair.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t think of anything else to say. She got dealt a shitty hand in life and has tried to make the best of it. Which is odd, because I got a royal flush and still managed to fuck it up.

“I just wish she’d straighten her life up. Because pretty soon I’m going to end up being a twenty-two year old college student raising my brother.” Her arms wrap tight around my waist and she draws even closer to me with sobs escaping her throat. All I can think about is what the hell I should be doing to make her happy.

“PAIGE,” MATTY WHISPERS
while tapping his finger to my arm. I wrestle a little, picking up my head. Panic strikes when I spot a drop of drool on Rob’s shirt from using him as a pillow. His whole Linkin Park shirt is dampened from my saliva.

“Oh God,” I softly say, slowly inching away to sit up so he doesn’t wake up. Somewhere between my tears and complaining I must have fallen asleep and he felt an obligation to console me. Damn, I didn’t want him to see this, my fucked-up family side.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Matty leans in, whispering in my face.
I love this kid.

I don’t answer but shake my head and point to the door for us to leave. He tip-toes with his finger to his mouth, peering back at me with each step and I follow him, doing the same. The second I shut the door, Matty busts out laughing. “Shh . . .” I tell him and he sucks in his lips.

“Sorry,” he says in regular tone and I shake my head from his inability to be quiet. If he wasn’t so adorable, I’d be angry. If Rob wakes up and I have to experience the morning after, I’m fairly certain my face will resemble a tomato. Not like it’s the normal morning after; we didn’t have sex. I glance down—yep, I’m still dressed.

“Let’s go make some breakfast,” I lightly swat him on his butt and he runs down the hall, holding his butt. He slides to a stop at the top. “Can we have pancakes?” His eyes light up and I laugh.

My hand ruffles his hair. “Sure you can, buddy.” Rob’s deep voice echoes through the quiet hallway and my last breath catches in my throat. My eyes dart to him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. God, all my snot and tears are still embedded in that shirt and I become embarrassed to how I lost myself last night. Then he eyes me while stepping out from the doorway. “I happen to make the best . . . out of everyone that lives here.” He chuckles at his own joke and when his lips turn up into a smirk, I can’t help but laugh.

My heart beats faster with every step he takes closer. “I’m starving,” Matty screams and scampers down the stairs while I remained fixed on those ocean-blue eyes.

“Hi.” Such a simple greeting after what happened last night. His hands don’t veer out of his pockets, but the intensity in his eyes sends goose bumps along my skin.

“Rob,” I begin but he shakes his head.

“Are you feeling better this morning?” he asks and now it’s warmth filling my heart.

“I am, I’m s—”

“Don’t. We’re friends, remember.”

I smile and the tingling in my nose signals tears will start soon if I don’t squash this moment.

“Friends.” I turn away from him to descend down the stairs, but then I flip back around, leaving me inches from his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m not due to work until one; if you want I can watch the little guy while you go to class.” He doesn’t appear fazed by the inconvenience Matty would bring to his day. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Thank you, but he has school, so I’ll drop him off on my way to class.”

Disappointment fills his eyes. “Okay.”

I remain on the landing like a moron for an uncomfortable amount of time before I venture down the stairs. Rob follows and by the time we’re in the kitchen, Matty’s searching the cabinets for food.

“Pancakes coming right up.” Rob takes out a pan and I pour a cup of Dex’s orange juice for Matty and he sits down.

“What can I do to help?” I come alongside of him as he cracks an egg and tosses it in the sink. No one would ever think Rob could cook by his outward appearance. I pegged him as more of a burrito in the microwave kind of guy.

“Nothing. Go take a shower, I got this.” He smiles over to me while whisking the ingredients and I purse my lips from smiling. “What are you trying not to laugh at?” he stops mid-whisk and furrows his brows.

“Just . . . you . . . so Betty Crocker.” My mouth widens into a smile and he pretends to narrow his eyes at me.

“If you want to continue to reap the rewards of my cooking, I suggest you strut up those stairs and take a shower.” Saying nothing further, I begin to go upstairs and he swats my butt with a dishtowel.

Matty’s in full laughter, bending over and all when I grab my ass and turn back around to him. The bowl is in his hands again and he’s staring up at the ceiling while whistling as though he did nothing. Slowly sauntering over, I inch up on my toes to reach his ear. “Don’t start things you can’t finish.” I watch his body stiffen before he turns his head to the side.

“I always finish, Paige . . . always.” A zillion little bursts of fireworks shoot off in my stomach. I should have known better than to bait him; I never win our teasing matches.

I back up, “going.” I announce, still hearing Matty laughing. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I overhear him asking Rob to teach him how to do that.

When I enter my bedroom, I’m surprised to find almost everything in place. My shoulders fall, trying to recall if we had finished by the time I had my meltdown. I’m fairly certain there were still drawers hanging and clothes strewn. A warmth fills my whole body when I think about Rob fixing everything and coming back to hold me again. No . . . I shake my head, but there’s no other explanation.

I grab my robe and scurry into the bathroom, shedding my clothes into a pile on the floor. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my way to the shower, I do a double take. Holy Mother, I look like shit. My eyes are red, puffy and is that drool dried up down my chin? Thanks to this, my cheeks match my eyes now. I cup my mouth, blowing into my palm to smell my breath. Crap, I’m surprised he didn’t pass out from my horrendous morning breath.
Way to seduce him, Paige, with your knotted hair and smeared makeup, I’m sure that will do the trick.

Finally, the steam from the shower clouds the mirror and I don’t have to stare at the disgusting reflection any longer. The hot water soothes my back from the hardwood floor I used as a bed last night. As I scrub the shampoo into my hair,
Sad
by Maroon 5 begins playing in my head. Mindlessly, going through my cleaning ritual, the words leave my mouth and I think about my mother. What will it take for her to claim responsibility of Matty, and herself for that matter? If my dad knew the money I dished out to her, he’d be furious. So, it’s better he doesn’t. The pressure of it all must be building inside of me worse than I thought because of the way I sobbed in Rob’s arms last night.

Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower, and slide my arm across the mirror; I stare at a better version of myself. Since I embarrassed myself last night and then this morning, I need to use every stitch of makeup to let Rob know I’m not disgusting like he witnessed this morning.

A knock on the door startles me and I jump back. Opening the door a sliver, I peek out. “You can sing?” Rob’s there with no shirt and his towel swung over his shoulder.

“What?” I shake my head to his question.

“You were singing.” He points inside the bathroom. “You’re good, Paige. Like, really, really good.” His excitement brings a smile to my face.

“Oh. I had some lessons when I was younger.” Lessons being a loose term for the singing coach who would teach me a few things when my dad took me on summer tours. The nanny that was hired didn’t exactly fill my time, so my dad asked Will, the lead singer, to perfect my interest. The summer it happened, I swore I was destined to be a singer and meant to be on stage with the band. That ended when I witnessed Will, the lead singer, taken out on a stretcher after overdosing on cocaine. It didn’t seem so glamorous after that.

“Sing with us tonight?” He rushes the question out and I jolt back, losing grip of the door.

Rob takes this as an invitation to intrude and I tighten the towel around my body. He stops cold, his eyes roaming up and down, stopping right above my breasts. “Privacy please.” I comment, stepping further into the bathroom, mentally figuring out how I’ll grab my robe without the towel coming undone.

“Please, I’ve seen girls before.” He waves off his imposition. “Seriously, Paige. Brady was up all night throwing up, he can’t perform tonight.”

“First of all, you haven’t seen this girl before.” I point to myself. “Second, I can guarantee you, it doesn’t compare to the other girls you’ve manipulated.” I poke his chest and he stumbles back with wide eyes until he reaches the hall. “Third, cancel the show then.” I shut the door and flick the lock.

Once I’m back to myself without his eyes pinned to me, I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly to regain control of my body. I shrug my robe on and open the door. Rob’s leaning with one leg up resting against the wall. When he sees me, he pushes off the wall and begins to follow me to my bedroom. “Please, Paige. I sing back-up so I can help you. I’ll get you up to speed.” He rambles and I do feel I owe him for watching Matty yesterday.

“I’ve never sang in front of anyone, Rob. Not even karaoke.” His face lights up, acknowledgment that I’m wavering.

“You sounded amazing just now and you didn’t have instruments as back-up. The only problem is catching you up on our songs.” I stand in my doorway and he politely gives me space.

“I don’t know. You have work, I have class. What time is the show?”
Am I actually going to do this? Sing in front of a group of girls that are partly there for the eye candy up on stage.

“I’ll leave early.” He cringes, probably thinking about how much work he’s missed lately. I can count on two hands the days he’s said he called in. “I’ll figure something out. Please.” He clasps his hands together and falls to his knees. His tattooed chest is alive with color and I want to inch closer to figure out what each one means.