Offside (37 page)

“Wow.” Carter’s body stiffened against his side. “Just . . . wow.”

“Don’t worry. You get used to it.” Scott squeezed Carter. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

“But . . .” Carter shrugged Scott’s arm off his shoulder, staring up at him, lips thin. “If Seb was okay with it—”

Something inside Scott snapped. He wasn’t sure if it was that woman, the stink of rum, or the flashes of heavy breasts in his face every time he blinked, but something had pushed him too far. He shoved Carter into the wall, trapping him with his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

He spoke with his lips over Carter’s. “Why wait? You need something, kid? Just ask.”

“Scott.”

The voice came from behind him, low and calming. A voice that got him thinking about how good he was supposed to be. And how messed up he really was.

Zach gently pulled Scott’s hands off Carter’s shoulders. “Go to our room. I’ll take care of him.”

Scott got to the room. Somehow. But he was mostly numb, and for some reason the furniture kept getting in his way. Damn, he should have just done it. Taken Carter to an empty hall, or to a bathroom stall, and fucked the shit out of him. Who cared that Seb would kill him after? Or that it would destroy Carter’s relationship with the man? And Jami . . .

He was bitter. And more than a little jealous. Carter would go home and probably tell Ramos about everything. Make excuses about how drunk he was—if the tequila didn’t create a great big blank in his head. If the kid was just talking like that because Scott had tasted his muffin, he wouldn’t be asking Ramos permission for anything. If it was more . . . hell, Scott didn’t know what to do with that. Part of the whole complicating his life by behaving deal.

The point was, Carter had it good. And he wouldn’t have chanced fucking that up if he hadn’t gotten so wasted. A real friend would have just gotten him to bed, like Zach was doing.

But Scott couldn’t be anyone’s friend. Or lover. Or
anything.

He could still smell the rum. It was like someone had poured a bottle over his body to lick it off. He could almost feel her tongue, thick and wet, gliding over his concave chest. He’d gotten sick a lot as a kid—hadn’t beefed up until he was about fourteen. He leaned against the wall by the bathroom, fists pressed hard to his forehead. The scent got heavier, choking him. A cold sweat cooled his flesh and that reeked of rum too.

He had to get rid of the smell.

In the shower, under the icy spray, he cracked his elbow into the tiles, cursing as the pain reverberated through his bones. He rubbed the soap between his hands, scrubbing his body with the foam. He heard the door open and close as he rinsed. The curtain was shoved aside. The water turned off.

“Scott.” Zach held out a towel, latching on to Scott’s arm to help him out of the shower. “I need to ask you something. And don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t.” Scott fumbled for the towel, a rough sound leaving his throat as Zach pulled him into his arms. He was gonna get wet!

“Did you do time as a kid?”

Time?
It took a bit to figure out what Zach meant. Scott laughed and shook his head. “Naw. I wasn’t that bad.”

“Then what makes you act like that, Scott?” Zach latched on to the back of his neck, forcing Scott to look at him. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need no help.” Scott jerked away from Zach, skinning his knees on the floor by his bed as he fell. Hands flat on the floor, he hunched his shoulders. “You wanna do something for me? Stop trying to make me into someone I’m not. I’m a quick, easy fuck. I’m a body.”

“Jesus, Scott. You’re more than that.” Zach hefted him up, then sat him on the edge of the bed. He used the towel to dry Scott’s face and his hair, his eyes hard. “You’re going to tell me. Not now though. Right now, you’re going to sleep this off.”

Scott tipped his head back and laughed again. “Sleep? Yeah, right. I haven’t given you your snack yet. And you’re not letting me get what I need.”

“Snack?” Zach shook his head, shoving Scott onto his back. “You’re not making any sense. What do you need?”

“Things are good after I get off.” Still didn’t make any sense. Why couldn’t he get his brain to work right? “It’s over after that. But not until then. You get it?”

“No. But I don’t see you making things any more clear tonight.” Zach climbed into the bed next to him, his fingers digging into Scott’s jaw as he kissed him. He pushed Scott down when he tried to sit up. “My hands, Scott. Are you sober enough to know who’s touching you?”

“Like I can think of anyone else while you’re here.” His throat tightened.
Yeah, I haven’t shown that much, have I?
“I’m sorry, Zach. Those other guys were just . . . I don’t know. I can’t stop.”

“Other men. Other women. You just hand yourself out.” Zach bit his throat. Hard. Then he kissed away the pain. “That’s what got to me. What you do to yourself. It’s not right.”

“What’s right?” Scott held his breath as Zach’s hand wrapped around his dick. There was no right or wrong anymore. Just Zach. “Oh, fuck. Please . . .”

“
My
hand, Scott. You fucking look at me while I do this.” Zach pushed up on his elbow, stroking Scott in his firm grip. “You look at me and you say my fucking name.”

“Zach!” Scott stared at Zach until pleasure blinded him. He pressed his face against Zach’s throat, breathing hard as he came. Hot spurts covered his stomach, but all his attention was on that firm grip, not letting go until he went slack. It went away for a few minutes, and then Zach was cleaning him with a facecloth. Covering him with the blanket. Wrapping him up in his strong arms.

“No good. You didn’t—” Scott’s head throbbed. No pain, just his heart pounding inside his skull. But something was missing. “You have to . . . you can use me.”

“Hell, you and Becky have a lot in common.” Zach pressed Scott’s head down on his shoulder. “Anyone can ‘use’ you. I plan to keep you.”

“Stupid.” Scott drifted off, chuckling under his breath. “You’re a stupid fucker to think that.”

“Yeah,” Zach whispered. “Don’t I know it.”

T
he living room lights were turned down low, the small crowd in Dean’s kitchen speaking softly so as not to wake the baby. Becky sat on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, a smile on her lips as she watched Landon rocking his daughter and singing “
La Luciole
.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a father this devoted to his child. Her eyes teared as Casey slipped by her, tiptoeing across the room to sit by Landon’s feet. Her own daughter seemed fascinated by her baby cousin and amazed every time she saw her uncle holding Amia, feeding her, or tucking her into her crib.

Casey didn’t understand these were things a daddy was supposed to do. Hers never had.

On a shopping trip with her and Silver, Casey had pulled her aside and looked up at her seriously. “Why doesn’t Auntie Silver like her baby?”

Becky had made sure Silver wasn’t close enough to overhear, then crouched down to speak to Casey quietly. “She loves Amia, Casey. Why would you say that?”

“Because Uncle Landon is always taking care of Amia. That’s a mommy’s job.”

Landon and Casey turned their heads toward the door at the soft click of heels on the carpet. Becky glanced back to see Silver, whose attention was locked on Landon and the baby. She never went closer than this to the baby unless Landon and Dean weren’t around. The sadness in her eyes was painful to see.

“Good morning, love.” Landon smiled at Silver, cradling Amia’s tiny body carefully against his chest with one big, muscular arm, holding out his hand. “She was up a lot last night. She’s exhausted. Can you take her up to her crib?”

Silver bit her lip, her whole body stiffening as though she was fighting not to step back. “You need to get some rest.”

“I’m fine. Dean got up with her a few times—so did my mom. I slept all right.”

“I wish you’d let me take a turn.” Silver hugged herself. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one getting to sleep through the night.”

“Doctor’s orders,
ma chérie
,” Landon said quietly. “You’re seeing him again in a few days. If he says you’re doing well enough, I’ll let you take over night feedings for a bit.”

“Okay.” Silver took a deep breath, looking like she was trying to force herself to move forward. “You sure she won’t wake up if I move her? I don’t want to bother her or something.”

“She’ll be fine, Silver.” Landon’s brow creased. “You’re her mother. You won’t be bothering her.”

“I just—”

“Let me take her, Landon.” Dean came up to Silver’s side, touching her cheek before crossing the room to take Amia. Amia’s eyes shot open. She cooed as Dean lifted her up. “Why am I not surprised?” He chuckled and kissed the top of Amia’s head. “I knew she wouldn’t sleep for long. Did you miss me, baby girl? Your sister’s here to see you. So is your other grandmother.” He met Landon’s eyes over the baby’s head. “I think you and Silver need to talk about what we discussed last night.”

“What you discussed . . . ?” Silver’s eyes narrowed. “Not that again! I don’t need a fucking shrink! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

So they
had
noticed. Becky held out her hand to Casey, pleased that her daughter came to her without a whisper of protest. She’d been afraid she’d need to get involved, but thankfully, it wasn’t necessary. As for Casey, she’d dealt with enough shouting between her own parents when she was little to last her a lifetime.

Becky glanced over at Dean’s mother, Verity Richter, as she passed them in the kitchen. Seconds later the woman returned with Amia, gently patting the baby’s back as she started crying, then called out, “I’m taking the children for a walk. This conversation will be over by the time we get back.”

Jami joined them in the kitchen, “I’m coming with you, Grandma!”

“You certainly are.” Verity huffed. “I still consider you one of the children. We’ll see if you can convince me otherwise. I’ve seen the lip you give your man.”

“Oh please, Grandma! He loves it when I’m naughty!”

“Damn it, I don’t need to hear that,” Dean grumbled from the doorway, frowning at his daughter. “Is Ramos coming here with Carter?”

“Nope. I’m going to his place to see them. Luke might swing by after . . .” Jami ducked her head at the hard look her grandmother gave her. “Just after. That’s all I was going to say. Me and Akira will probably do something. Apparently Ford showed up yesterday and . . . ugh, I don’t know. She sounded pretty pissed. We need some girl time.”

“What happened with Ford?” Silver asked, slipping into the kitchen before Jami could follow Verity out. “He didn’t start anything, did he?”

Jami sighed. “I thought you’d heard. He and Hunt got into it.”

“Hunt?” Dean scowled. “Damn it, we need the boy. How bad is it?”

“I’m not sure. Uncle Tim didn’t call you?”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silver scowled, heading for her purse on the kitchen table. “Get ahold of Tim. I’ll call Ford. That idiot is going to—”

“Silver.” Verity returned to the room with Amia in her stroller. She held out her hand for the phone as though Silver was one of her children. None of whom ever questioned her when she gave them that look. “Call your brother later. You’re busy now.”

“But—”

“Silver, please.” Dean slid his hand around Silver’s waist, drawing her back to the living room. “We need to talk.”

As Jami headed out with Casey, Becky bent to slip on her shoes, jumping a little when Verity touched her shoulder. She straightened, holding her breath as Verity spoke quietly. “Why don’t you stay? Tidy up a bit?”

“Ah . . . okay.” Becky looked around at the mess of the kitchen, almost feeling guilty for how ready she’d been to walk out. Normally, she would help clean after one of Dean’s amazing meals, but she’d thought the whole point of Verity bringing the children out was to give Silver, Dean, and Landon some privacy. Was she missing something? “I wasn’t planning to leave it like this, I just figured they—”

“Yes, they need some privacy. But Dean is struggling to be there for them both, and it might help for him to know you’re nearby if Landon needs you.” Verity took one hand off the handle of the stroller and rubbed Becky’s arm. “Put some music on. Dean will bring Silver up to their room when this is all over. Then you can sit with Landon. Listen if he needs to talk to someone who isn’t so close to the situation.”

That sounded reasonable. Becky nodded and followed the older woman’s advice, turning on the small stereo attached to a base of one of the kitchen cabinets. Then the dishwasher. With that and the water running as she washed the pots and pans, the three adults in the other room would have to scream for her to hear a thing.

Neither Dean or Landon were prone to screaming, but Silver . . . well, she wasn’t here for Silver. Not this time. Verity was right, Silver had Dean. Landon was going to need his big sister.

* * * *

Landon cracked his neck, watching as Dean led Silver to the sofa. She seemed calmer. Maybe they’d finally get somewhere with her.
We have to. We can’t continue this way.

Settled on the sofa with Silver beside him, Dean took Silver’s hand, speaking in a low, soothing tone. “You’re going through postpartum depression, my love. If you won’t listen to your doctor when he tells you so, you will listen to me. Don’t think Landon and I haven’t noticed you locking yourself in the bathroom to cry. This happens every time you spend more than a few minutes with your daughter.”

The calm in Silver’s features vanished, giving way to a flash of rage. “Of course you’d bring this up with Super Mom here. God! It must be hard for you to see how perfect she is compared to me!”

“No one’s comparing you to Becky, Silver,” Landon said, trying to keep his voice level, praying Becky hadn’t heard any of that. Becky had tried so hard to be there for Silver, and it seemed like all Silver saw was her trying to be superior. “My sister is a single mother. She’s been doing this alone for years and—”

“Go ahead! Tell me I’m being a bitch! I suck as a mother, as a sub, and as a fiancée!” Silver sobbed, sounding like she was coming apart at the seams. “I’m glad we haven’t gotten married yet, Landon. It will make things so much easier when I—”