The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (31 page)

Pick blew out a shuddered breath before shaking his head and asking, “So you knew...you were aware my mother was pregnant with Chaz’s—”

He broke off when Murphy nodded. “Sure. They were shacked up together, living in my garage while she was pregnant with you. She’d come into the kitchen every morning, and I’d feed her a hearty breakfast so you’d grow nice and strong.”

“Did you know she gave birth to me the same day—”

“I did,” Murphy said on a choked nod. “Took me a couple days, after the funeral, before I got around to go see you. Polly had already taken off by then, but they let me look at you through a window.”

“And you didn’t...” Pick shook his head, his eyes glazed with shock. “You didn’t try to get custody of me?”

Guilt lined Murphy’s eyes before he glanced away. “Shit, Pick. I’d just lost my son. My wife had been gone for years. I was trying to run my own business by myself; there was no way I was equipped to take care of an infant.”

Both Murphy and I watched as devastation lit Pick’s features. But he gave a noisy swallow and nodded. “I understand, Murphy. It would’ve been tough.”

As if realizing what a mistake he’d made, Murphy’s face took on a pleading expression. “They told me they’d find a real nice foster home for you, people who’d gone through classes and been trained on how to take care of a baby. I thought...I knew it’d be the best thing for you.” A wavering smile lit his face. “And hell, look at you now. You turned out just fine.”

With another nod, Pick mumbled, “Yeah. Just fine.”

I kicked at a spot on the floor, nearly biting my tongue in half because I wanted to tell Murphy so bad that Pick had not been fine...not for many, many years. But I figured if Pick had wanted him to know that, he would’ve said something himself. It wasn’t my place.

“If it’s any consolation,” Murphy went on. “Your mama loved you something fierce.”

I glanced up and watched the fond smile on the older man’s face as he nodded to Pick. “She was young—shit, they were both too young, but her in particular. And yet...none of that mattered. She talked and dreamed and envisioned the day you were going to arrive. She would’ve made a damn fine mama for you if Chaz hadn’t...” After another clearing of the throat, Murphy went on. “They were going to name you Dugger.”

“Dugger?” Pick murmured, glancing me with a slight wince. “Dugger Murphy.”

“Nice.” I flashed him two thumbs-up, refraining from telling him what our mother
had
actually named me.

Pick flipped me off before turning back to his grandfather.

Even as I chuckled, I tried not to let the bitter jealousy in, but it stirred within me, anyway.

I wanted so bad to tell Pick what a gift it was that our mother had loved him. Because she’d never loved me. She’d hated me, and told me so often. She’d gone on and on numerous times, complaining how much she’d wished I had died, how she resented Miller Hart for making her keep me, how she wanted her true baby boy back. I’d always known she’d loved Pick and not me, but listening to his grandfather back that fact up only dug the pain in deeper.

“I think we’re done here,” Pick said, tapping my elbow to get my attention. Then he nodded stoically to his former boss...his grandfather. “Murphy, thank you for your information. I’m going to...I’m just going to mull this over awhile, then I’ll probably be back to catch up on...things, if that’s all right with you.”

Murphy nodded immediately, and a smile lit his face. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

As Pick turned away abruptly and strode off, needing space, or to think, or whatever, his grandfather glanced at me. After a long blink, he said, “Now you...you have your mother’s eyes.”

Then he smiled fondly as if that was something I should’ve been proud of.

I nodded, twitching my lips to make him think I was smiling, but all I could remember was how much Polly had hated the fact I’d gotten her eyes. Almost as much as she’d hated me.

When Pick returned home, I was done being an insecure coward. If maturity was what Pick was calling this, then I was going to do the mature thing and just call Remy. Besides, I wanted to kill zombies with my friend again.

But as soon as I pulled my phone from my pocket, it rang. When I saw
Sticks
on the screen, I grinned.

“Hey, loser,” I answered, relieved to talk to him again. “I was just about to call you.”

“You were?” He sounded surprised, which made me laugh.

“Hell, yeah. I don’t have to go to work until five this evening, so I was curious if you were up for some Call of Duty.”

“Sure. I was actually going to see if you were around because…I have something for you.”

I nodded and waved him on, even though he couldn’t see me over the phone. “Well, then get your ass over here, man.”

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on my door, and you’d think I was waiting for a hot lady to visit, I was a bit too eager to answer it. But I didn’t care, and as soon as I pulled it open, this ball of relief eased inside me.

“This is for you.” Sticks held out a small brown paper sack as soon as we jogged down together into my apartment. When I only arched an eyebrow, curious, he jiggled the bag impatiently. “Well, go on and take it. It’s not poisonous, I swear.”

I took the sack and unfolded the top so I could peer inside.

“What the hell?” Staring incredulously, I gaped at the new box of condoms that had the words “Use Me Please” written out in thick black marker along the side.

“And I remembered to get the non-latex kind too.” Remy sounded way too proud of himself, so I squinted an incredulous glance his way.

He sighed as if disgusted that I wasn’t happier. “This is me proving to you that I’m perfectly okay with you going out and having sex with...whomever.”

“Just not your cousin,” I had to add, trying not to sound bitter and hoping I hadn’t just stuck my foot into my mouth and made things worse between us. But I was sort of hoping he’d say he was okay with me pursuing Elisa after all.

He didn’t. Of course.

He scowled a second before shrugging. “Yeah. Just not her.”

I wanted to mope and scowl and argue, but...this was Sticks extending an olive branch. Strange method, but he wanted to make amends, so I accepted it.

“Well...thank you, I think,” I said, tossing the box onto my bed. “So you want to kill shit now?”

His shoulders eased and a relieved smile slid across his face. “Sure.”

“So...Dugger Murphy, huh? Yeah, I can’t see Pick being named that either.”

As I gave my controls a rest to snatch my bottle of Angry Orchard and take a couple gulps, Remy finished off the small invasion of enemies closing in on us.

Damn, he really was good at this game.

“I know, right?” I set the drink back down to back him up as he entered a nearby building, guns drawn.

With a snort, he grinned my way, “God, your mom had sucky taste in names.”

I shot a guy in the head that was about to take him out.

“Shit, I didn’t see him.” Remy gritted his teeth in frustration. “Gracias.”

His gratitude came begrudgingly. It cracked me up how competitive he was and how he hated missing something or getting help.

I acted blasé about it. “Mmm hmm.” But he still flipped me the bird for my answer, and I had to laugh.

“So, this guy who owns the garage and who Pick actually used to work for ended up being his paternal grandfather? That’s some crazy shit.”

“Yeah, about as crazy as me finding out
my
boss was my brother.” I didn’t mention that I was a little jealous Pick had ended up discovering a new family member who didn’t outright hate him, resent him, or just not give a shit about his life. But then I reminded myself, I’d gotten a new family member out of Pick, hadn’t I? So I was technically no longer batting zero in that regard.

“Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. Will you deejay his wedding reception? It’s going to be at Forbidden next Sunday.”

“Next Sunday? You mean, like in eight
days
, next Sunday?”

“Yep. I would’ve thought Eva would’ve been more into the big, drawn-out grandiose planning thing too, but apparently they’re ready now and don’t want to dawdle. So, what do you say about deejaying? You’re really the only other person I trust with the sound system.”

“I am?” The crack in Remy’s voice told me he was honored by my announcement. After clearing his throat, he sounded much less emotional and more nonchalant. “Okay, sure. No prob. How’s Pick handling it, anyway?”

“The wedding plans?” I sent him a short frown. “Like I know.”
Or care
.

“No.” He snorted and waved a hand. “How’s he, you know, dealing with the shock of learning so much in one day. Met his uncle, then his grandfather. How’s he doing with that?”

I sent him another strange glance. “No idea. He seemed okay to me. Why?”

“Oh, Jesus.” Remy rolled his eyes. “You hetero men. I swear. Always too afraid to talk to each other about your feelings.”

Now I was really stumped. “What the hell was I supposed to ask him?”

“No sé.” Sticks sighed as if I was impossible. “Ask if he was bien, maybe. If he wanted to talk about it. If—”

“I’m sure Eva will take care of all that. He doesn’t need me to give him a hug or pat on the head.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Remy glance my way. “And what about you?”

Huh? “What
about
me?”

“You don’t have an Eva to talk to or hug.”

I sent him an incredulous glance. “Yeah, and I’m not the one who met my grandfather for the first time today, either.” I’d just gotten confirmation how much my mother had truly despised me.

“Yeah, but you had to face your uncle again after not seeing him for…how long now? And you spent the entire morning with Pick, when a month ago, the idea scared the shit out of you.”

“Christ,” I groaned. “I tell you way too much.” When he just smirked, I rolled my eyes. “My uncle’s still completely impartial about anything to do with my life, and Pick...I don’t know, I’m growing on the idea of him being my brother.”

“Really?” That seemed to please Remy. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, ever since he told me he’d already researched Polly online and knew what had happened to her and my dad, I haven’t been so freaked.”

“Speaking of your dad—”

“Don’t.” Holding up a hand in his direction to cut him off, I sighed. “I haven’t seen him again since the run-in at the bar.”

Remy was quiet a moment before saying, “Well, I still think he’s following you. Keeping tabs on you.”

Of course, he did. “And I told you, I couldn’t give a shit less if he was.” Which I highly doubted he was. “As long as he stays back and I don’t have to face him, it’s all good.”

“But what if he—”

“Sticks.” I sent him a sharp glance. “I’m not worried about him. He has no reason to come after me. From the moment he realized I couldn’t help him score any drugs and I wasn’t going to give him any handouts, he probably forgot I existed. And I say good. Goodbye and good riddance.”

“Well, I’m going to stay paranoid and keep an eye out for him.”

I shook my head, even though it felt kind of nice that someone was so worried about my welfare. “Suit yourself. I hereby and from henceforth make you my official bodyguard.” When I made a sign of the cross in his direction, he snorted.

“A sign of the cross? Really? What the hell was that about?”

I snickered. “No idea. It just seemed fitting.”

He laughed back. “Man, you are so weird.”

The way he shook his head as if perplexed by my weirdness made me laugh, too. I was about to tease him and tell him he was the idiot who had the big ol’ man crush on me, but I don’t know, I decided to just roll with it.

“You think
that’s
weird? Well, did you know...” Remembering something I’d read online the night before when I’d been unable to sleep because I’d been stressing about my friendship with him, I asked, “that when they used to cut off a boy’s nuts to make him sing castrato, the lack of testosterone in his body would then make his—”

“Bone joints not quite as hard, ergo they grew longer and gave him more rib capacity to sing with stronger lung power. Yes, I actually
did
know that.”

My mouth fell open in shock. But damn, how did he know that? I blinked, not sure if I was impressed or irritated that he’d showed me up...again.

Before I could decide, my phone rang.

I tossed my controls aside to reach for it, because once again, Remy was cleaning house without my help. “It’s Pick,” I said, frowning and wondering what was wrong.
Did
he really need to talk about feelings and shit? I had no clue how to do that, but for Pick, I guessed I’d try.

“What’s up?” I asked in answer.

“Man.” Pick heaved out a long sigh. “Jesus, Asher. You’ll never believe this, but I just got a call from Reese. Mason’s mom died like...an hour ago.”

“
What
?’ I sat up straight on the couch. “That’s crazy. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t get the particulars. But she said Mason’s pretty upset. They just picked up his little sister Sarah and she’s not taking it well either. We’re headed over now.” He paused and then added, “See you there?”

“Uh...sure. Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” After I hung up, I continued to stare at the phone as I murmured, “Holy shit.”

Remy paused the game and sat up, concern on his face. “What’s going on?”

“My friend Mason...”

“From the bar? Yeah.” Nodding, he rolled out a hand, urging me to continue. “What about him? He okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah,
he
is. But his mom...fuck, I guess she just died.”

“Whoa.” Sticks pulled back, blinking. “What happened? Car accident?”

“No idea. Pick didn’t know and Reese didn’t say when she called him.” I pushed to my feet, feeling disoriented as I glanced blindly around the room. “I need to go. Pay my condolences and, I don’t know, shit...just be on hand if they need anything, I guess.”

I should’ve moved, then, but a wave of dizziness assailed me. All I could see were the dead eyes of my own mother, staring sightlessly at nothing. What if Mason’s little sister had seen
her
mother die?

“Hey. You okay?” Remy clutched my arm, grounding me back to the present.

“Yeah. Fine,” I mumbled. “Just remembering shit from back when. Pick said Mason’s sister Sarah was pretty upset. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was there. What she saw.”

Remy’s intrepid gaze dug into me. “What did
you
see,” he murmured softly, “when your mom died?”

I sniffed out a sound and shook my head. “Everything,” I answered without really meaning to. But Sticks had a way of prying things out of me with a mere stare.

“That must’ve been pretty shitty. Did you ever talk to anyone about it?”

I glanced at him. “Yeah. Sure. I had to repeat my account of the events about twenty times to the cops and lawyers and judges.”