Undisputed (11 page)

Pissed off because I want his food, I tell him, “You’re fucking disgusting, you know that? No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend. How the hell can anyone stand to watch you eat?” I purposely ignore his question. I refuse to admit that I’m nervous about anything, not even to Tripp.

Looking down at his plate, he mumbles, “How the fuck do you know I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Dude, you practically live here. And I haven’t seen you with a chick in months.”

His lack of eye contact makes me pause.

“Wait. You fuckin’ someone?” Racking my brain, I try to think of the last time he was here at night and realize he has been out a lot.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend. But remember that chick we met at Raw?”

I smirk. “We met a lot of chicks. You’re gonna have to be a little more specific. Just tell me how big her tits were.”

Throwing a strip of greasy bacon at me, he laughs. “You’re such a fucking prick. I’m not telling you about her rack. Her name was Aly.”

When he pauses, waiting for the reminder to spring some kind of memory, I shake my head. I still have no clue who he’s talking about.

He groans. “Remember, she didn’t like you? The only chick in existence to not like you?”

I remember meeting a girl, but I’m pretty sure she
did
like me. “Oh, yeah! I do remember her!” I smile proudly only for it to morph into a frown. “She was a bitch though. What’s wrong with you, man?” I swing a fist at his shoulder. “You must be seriously hard up for some pussy.” I narrow my eyes and stare off into the distance while tapping my chin. “Wait, never mind. I remember now… She had fan-fucking-tastic tits.”

This time, he slugs my arm. Laughing, I turn my attention back to now-cold eggs just in time to hear him crunch another piece of bacon.

“Mmm,” he teases.

I glower at him. He’s taunting me with food; I’m taunting him by being an ass. Such is our relationship. No sense in screwing with something that works.

“She must give incredible head,” I push. “Is that why you’re going out with her? Mad blow job skills?”

The humor in his eyes disappears, rage filling the emptiness.

I throw my hands up in surrender. “Just kidding, man. I’m sure she’s great. I don’t remember much from that night anyway, so what the fuck do I know?”

Tripp’s still glaring; I’m not getting off the hook that easily.

“You fucking cocksucker. Sometimes, I don’t know why I’m still friends with you. You’re on your own today, man.” He shoves out of his chair and throws his napkin on his plate. “Good luck with that kid. Try not be a total ass.” As he storms through my apartment, he snatches his jacket off the back of the couch and then slams the front door on his way out.

Nice fucking job, asshole.

After a few minutes pass, I pull my phone out and type a quick apology.

Me:
T-Seriously, man, I didn’t know.

His response is almost instant.

Tripp:
Of course you didn’t know. The only person you give a shit about is yourself. Why would you know anything about what’s going on with me?

Feeling a rare stab of guilt, I stare at my screen, trying to figure out how to reply. I can’t tell him that he’s wrong—that I do care about him. That’ll make me sound like a fucking puss. But, if I don’t say anything, it’ll only justify the way he feels. Realizing there’s nothing I can do to make it up to Tripp right now, so I put the phone back in my pocket and make a mental note to call Reb. She’ll know how to handle this. Or at least his shoe size so I can buy him the new Burberrys he’s been eyeing as my apology.

Drawing a deep breath in, I head inside my apartment. I have a dying kid to meet, and it’s almost time to go.

Mark was right The kid only lives about twenty minutes away, and I find his house easily enough. Pulling up to the curb, I check the number on the front door and study the house.

Situated in a neighborhood that has a lot of trees and sidewalks, the house is neither small nor large. It looks like your typical all-American home, and I can imagine him riding his bike while his parents shout encouraging words from the front porch.

What would it have been like to grow up here?

For a moment, I feel a pang of jealousy—for a dying kid.
Outstanding!

Squashing the strange feeling, I remind myself that I am living a life most people only dream of. What the fuck do I have to be jealous of?

After having put it off long enough, I get out of my Jag and walk up to the house. All of the houses on this street have perfectly manicured lawns, but this one needs to be mowed. The bushes need to be trimmed, and several pots on the porch have sticks in them. As I stare at them, it dawns on me that they were probably full of flowers at one point. Hell, maybe this whole house is dying right alongside this kid. Oh, God, what if he looks like an empty shell of a person. All weak and broken, barely able to lift his head.

Fuck, what am I about to walk in to? God, I wish Tripp had come.

After one last glance around, I take a deep breath and lift my hand to knock on the door. My fist barely connects with the wood before the door is thrown open and a petite woman in her early thirties is greeting me. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why I recognize her.

“Oh my
gosh
, look how big you are!” She throws her arms around me in a tight embrace.

I stand awkwardly with my arms by my side. I’m not the touchy-feely type—unless I’m getting naked with a woman—so I have no idea how to respond.

There’s a shout from behind the lady mauling me. “Mom! Oh my god, let go of him.”

Immediately dropping her arms, she steps back and apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy that you agreed to meet Connor.” After glancing over her shoulder, she drops her voice to a whisper. “He’s been so excited since he found out you were coming. And, these days, he doesn’t have much to look forward to”

He doesn’t even try to stifle a groan. “Mom, I’m right behind you. God, you’re so embarrassing sometimes.”

Taking a step back, I stick my hand out in her direction. “It’s okay. I’m Breccan Carlisle. Most of my friends call me Brec though. It’s really nice to meet you.”

She takes my hand in both of hers before introducing herself. “I’m Abby O’Neil, Connor’s mom. It is such an honor to meet you. I’m so sorry I just jumped on you like that. Please, come inside. It’s chilly outside today,” she replies while dragging me inside the house with her.

I’m confused by her comment about the weather. It’s seventy degrees and the sun’s been shining, but I don’t get a chance to think about it before he squeals.

“Oh. My. God. Holy. Shit.”

“Connor!” Abby scolds.

An adolescent boy barrels past me to look out the door. “Mom! Seriously, did you see his car?” Turning back towards me, he exclaims, “Dude! Is that a Jag F-type?” He jumps up and down in place.

Praise Jesus, he looks like a normal kid, and my body sags in relief. If it weren’t for the fact that his mother called him Connor, I would think that this was the wrong kid. He looks almost completely fine. Upon closer inspection, I notice some scarring and a large lump on his arm, but that’s the only thing that looks out of place. I was expecting to find some kid lying in a hospital bed that had been set up in the living room, not a kid who almost knocked me over while racing to get a look at my car.

His enthusiasm for my baby has my lips turning upward in a slight smile. I remember the first time I saw a Lamborghini in our driveway. It was a charity function my parents were hosting, and the man who stepped out of the driver’s seat was so fucking confident that I decided right then and there that I was going to be him one day. I haven’t purchased my Lambo yet, but I do look damn good getting out of my Jag.

Walking over to stand beside him, I nod. “That it is. Fully loaded, custom paint job, and washed twice a week.” I glance down at him. “I’m Brec. Nice to meet you, by the way.”

After finally peeling himself away from the door, he stares up at me for a full thirty seconds before he snaps out of his trance and sticks his hand out to me. “I’m Connor O’Neil. It is un-freaking-real that you are standing in my living room right now. When Aunt Sid told me that I could make a wish, you were the first and only thing that popped in my head. I didn’t think you would actually say yes though. Holy shit.” The last few words are said on a sigh to himself.

His mother begins to scold him for cursing, but instead, she closes her mouth and rolls her eyes.

Barely pausing to take a breath, he continues. “Brec—can I call you Brec?”

I simply nod because I doubt I’d get a word in anyway.

“Can we go look at your car?”

I nod once more.

“Hey, can I take pictures? You know, to show my friends. They didn’t believe me when I told them I was going to get to meet you. Oh, oh! Can I sit in the driver’s seat?” The entire time he’s firing off questions, he’s pulling on a jacket hanging on a peg in the hall and shoving his feet halfway into a pair of high-top Chucks.

Laughing, I assure him, “That’s why I drove it, kid. Thought you might like it.” In reality, I just like my Jag, but the payoff of my lie is priceless.

He beams up at me as he turns to head out the door. Adoration is nothing new to me, but for some reason from this kid…it means something. And, suddenly, I’m smiling for a different reason.

After hearing a noise coming from the top of the stairs, I lift my gaze. An attractive redhead is making her way down. There’s something vaguely familiar about her.

Have I slept with her?

I really hope not, because if so, this is about to get uncomfortable.

Before she reaches the bottom, she stumbles and falls down the last three steps. Then she lands squarely on her ass. I immediately reach down and pull her up, biting a smile back when I ask if she’s okay.

Her head whips up and clear, blue eyes meet mine. My smile broadens, and I begin to chuckle a little when those pretty eyes widen. I think she mumbles that she’s fine, but a second later, she jerks her arm from mine and bolts back in the direction she came from.

Laughter comes from behind me, and I find myself joining in. But the redhead is almost at the top when she stumbles again and shouts, “Abby, you just had to have a fucking two-story house, didn’t you?”

“God, that was hilarious. Poor Aunt Sid.” Connor chokes on his laughter. His gaze lifts to mine. “She falls down the stairs all the time.”

I nod, chuckling at his honesty—and her embarrassment. But my gaze drifts back to the stairs. I don’t think I’ve ever slept with her, but I can’t place where I know her from.

“Okay, Con. That’s enough. Weren’t you on your way outside with Mr. Carlisle to look at his car?” Abby admonishes, still grinning broadly.

With the reminder of my car, Connor starts toward the door, pulling me with him. Giving up on trying to figure the mystery of the sexy aunt out, I follow behind the kid.

Once we get outside, I answer all of Connor’s questions. For a kid, he seems to know a lot about cars, and surprisingly, our conversation flows pretty easily. It isn’t nearly as awkward as I was expecting, and I begin to relax. I’m saying something about the engine and gesturing with my arm when Connor interrupts me.

“Dude, your watch is sa-weet!” he exclaims, exaggerating the words.

“Oh, yeah. You like it?” I glance down. It
is
a nice watch, but I have a closet full of them. “Tell ya what. It’s yours.” I begin to take it off, but a look of puzzlement flashes across his face.

“Oh, uh, no, thanks, man.”

I arch an eyebrow in question. “You just said you liked it, So I’m giving it to you.” I’m still trying to hand it to him while he shakes his head no and backs away a step.

“Nah. It’s a really nice watch, but I don’t want it. It’s yours.”

We stare at each other awkwardly for a moment before he grins.

“Hey, you want to go play some Xbox? Mom said we could order pizza too if you wanted.”

Just like that, Connor’s forgotten about my watch and moved on to Xbox. I don’t remember the last time anyone turned something I was giving them down. Anyone else would have accepted that watch before I’d even gotten it off my wrist. They’d be demanding a ride in my car. And probably a four-course fucking meal from the hottest restaurant in the city. This kid though? He wants pizza and Xbox, and it actually makes me want to hang out with him. And that has nothing to do with my promise to Mark or the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

Turning to follow him back in the house, I rub my hands together in excitement. Not only does the kid like my car, but he plays Xbox and apparently has a super-hot aunt, even if she can’t figure out how to master stairs.

“Yeah, kid. Let’s order pizza. I’m not supposed to eat it during camp, so you gotta swear not to tell my trainer I had any. Deal?”

He nods vigorously and throws the scout’s honor sign up.

Throwing an arm around his shoulder, I lead him back toward the door. “Awesome. So, tell me more about your family. What’s your aunt like?”