Aced (24 page)

Should I count the ways multiple things are causing stress right now?

“Zander called before the race started. He was scared, confused. A wreck. His uncle is trying to foster him.” My words are so quiet. I try to keep my emotions in check since the constant rhythm of my heartbeat is visible on the monitor beside us.

“Okay,” he says slowly, and I can sense his mind working, trying to figure out where I’m going with this. “You gotta give me more than that to make me understand why it put you in the hospital.“

“It’s his uncle.” I swallow over the anger in my throat and continue. “The druggie asshole who wanted nothing to do with him when he first came to us.”

“Why come forward now?” His simple question, and the confusion in which he says it, expresses exactly how I feel. I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful for his identical response, because it adds validation to my gut reaction over this.

“Why do you think?” Disgust laces my tone and even though it’s not directed at him, I know he takes it that way.

“The video. Your work promo pictures splashed all over the fucking place,” he says as everything clearly clicks into place for him.

“Mm-hmm.” Because there is nothing else I can say without making it sound like I blame him in part for this turn of events.

“Money?” he asks.

“The monthly foster stipend isn’t a ton but—”

“But it’s enough to support your habit should you have one,” he muses.

“Or better yet,” I say as the thought hits me—staggers me even though I’d prefer to not even entertain the idea, “sell an interview with Zander to spill all kinds of juicy details on the woman helping run Corporate Cares who just so happens to be currently on leave from her job due to the release of a sex tape.”

“That could explain the sudden urgency.”

“Could.” I shrug, closing my eyes and concentrating on the feel of security I have with his arms wrapped around me.

“People will do anything for money.”

“And some people don’t even need money as a motivator.” The comment falls out without thought, but I know Colton knows I’m referring to Eddie. That damn video has become the catalyst to cause all of this: invasion of privacy, loss of normal freedoms, embarrassment, losing my job, Zander’s situation, me in the hospital, our life unraveling.
Too. Many. Ripples.

“Ry . . .” My name comes out in a resigned sigh as he rubs the stubble of his chin against the back of my neck, causing my entire body to stand at attention. “You need to put you and the baby first.”

“I know. I do need to. I’m trying to . . .” And Colton is one hundred percent right . . . but in a sense, Zander is my child too. “But you didn’t hear him, Colton. He was terrified. Scared. Lost.
And I didn’t know
.” I take a deep breath and focus on the whir of the machine monitoring the baby’s movements. I focus on that and feel centered. “Teddy gave me some kind of explanation—the corporate song and dance that this is what we strive for. It’s all bullshit. He doesn’t have the connection with the boys I do . . . doesn’t know the ins and outs of their stories like I do.”

“He’ll fight for them though if it comes down to it,” Colton says softly, a quiet reassurance and an unintentional slap in the face to me all at once. But I don’t feel the slap’s sting. I know Colton’s comment comes from a place of love.

Those are my boys. My heart. No one will fight as hard for them as I will. I know this much to be true.

“It should be me,” I murmur, my heart hurting, my body exhausted. “But I don’t think it will do an ounce of good. If the system does the half-ass job they usually do and don’t vet them properly, then they’ll get him.”

“Unless he’s adopted,” Colton states plainly. He pulls me in tighter and I nod my head.

We settle in the silence of the sterile room that is now so much more bearable with Colton’s presence. The heat of his breath, the scent of his cologne, the feel of his body against mine—all three things center me from that out-of-control feeling of fear I entered this hospital with.

The baby’s movements I can and can’t feel are broadcast through the room, my own reminder of priorities and unconditional love. Lulled by the sound and Colton being here, I slowly begin to drift off.

“We could adopt, Zander.”

Colton’s words snap me awake. My breath hitches, my body jolts, my heart hopes momentarily before the reality of the situation sets in. Tears prick the backs of my eyes over the enormity of the heart of the man behind me. One who swore he couldn’t love, and yet day after day the capacity and way in which he does, makes me fall more in love with him.

“The fact you’ve said that means the world to me but . . . but I can’t just choose one boy to adopt,” I say with a conflicted heart because yes, it would fix everything, but doing that would tell the other boys I love Zander more than them and that’s not the case. “But thank you for saying it. The fact you’d even consider it means the world to me.”

“I think we should do more than consider it.” I just nod at his comment, the resolve in his voice so strong there’s no point in arguing since I know he’s speaking from the experience of what it’s like to be an orphaned little boy. “Don’t count it out, Rylee.”

“I won’t,” I say for good measure, “but I can’t do that to the others who want to belong to someone just as much as Zander does.”

“They belong to each other,” he says, “and that’s what matters most.”

His words throw me. They’re unexpected and yet so very true. And contradictory. How would adopting one not ruin that bond?

“Turn your mind off, Ryles. Shut it down for a bit. For me. For the baby. For you.” He rubs a hand up and down my arm, sliding it over my belly between the two monitors resting there. I’m sure it’s pure coincidence but within seconds the sound of the baby moving beneath his hand fills the room. Hearing the hitch in Colton’s breath in reaction makes my heart swell.

“I’m sorry I took you away from your victory celebration,” I murmur, “but at the same time I’m not because I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he says as he rests his chin on my shoulder and presses a kiss to my cheek. “I lie. There’s definitely somewhere else I’d like to be.” Suggestion laces his voice and since sex is my only pregnancy craving, I groan.

“I have a feeling this victory lane is closed for business for a while,” I say.

“Good thing I just claimed it in Alabama.”

“You better be talking about a trophy, Ace.”

“Nah. That’s right here in my arms.”

“I
NEED YOUR HELP, SHANE,” I say, sounding desperate and not caring a single bit that I do.

“Rylee.” He chuckles, sounding so much like a grown man rather than the awkward teenager that once came to me alone and traumatized. The irony I’m now turning to him for help is not lost on me. “Colton said you were going to call and try to bribe me to help you escape your house.”

Damn it! He’s thought of everything to keep me stuck at home where the walls of this house feel like they are closing in on me more and more every day. Sure paparazzi have died down but they are still present, still perpetuating the sensationalism. They might not all be sitting outside, but the covers of the rags still show the grainy image of me in the garage. However, now it’s next to one of me leaving the hospital in a wheelchair two days ago with titles that are equivalent to the conversation Colton and I had on our first date: Chupacabras and three-headed aliens.

“I’m not trying to bribe you to escape. I’ll sit here, not be stubborn, and listen to doctor’s orders so long as I know Zander’s okay,” I confess. “I’ve talked to him and he seems fine, and Colton and Jax are telling me he’s fine, but Shane, he’ll talk to you.” The last words are emphasized so he understands I’m referring to the brotherly bond they’ve formed over the years. The connection between two battered souls that have healed together, shared experiences no one should ever have to, and came through it on the other side, is something that has allowed them to be the odd couple of closeness in The House.

And I’m hoping I can call on that bond right now to help find out how he’s doing.

“On one condition,” he says, throwing me for a loop.

“Mm-hmm?” I respond, curious if Colton has anything to do with this one condition.

“That you let me handle this. I don’t want you stressed out and back in the hospital. I’ll tell you everything I find out as long as I know you’re going to put you and the baby first.” I hear his words, and as much as I’m irritated with the ultimatum, pride overrides it and allows me to listen to what he’s saying. To the concern in his voice, the compassion in his words, the remarkable man he’s become.

It tells me I’ve done my job. And I hold tight to that idea since right now I can’t continue to care for them. I have to trust in the time I’ve invested thus far with both of these boys and that their bond will remain steadfast when one needs the other the most.

“Can I trust you to do that, Rylee?” he asks, breaking through the emotion clouding my mind and clogging my throat.

“Yes,” I say, feeling like a scolded child and yet it’s hard to feel anything but love for him.

“He’s struggling. He’s scared and worried. We’re the only good he knows. He fears going back to that constant life of not knowing what’s next . . . and I can understand that,” he murmurs, no doubt lost in his own memories.

He tells me exactly what I assumed but what no one else would confirm.

“Thank you for telling me.” My mind races, wanting to rush over and see Zander face to face to reassure him, and wanting to beg Teddy to get back to me even though I know he’s waiting on the caseworker to get back to him.

“I’m coming home next week for a few days. I’m going to stay at The House, already talked to Jax about it, and hang with Zand to make sure he’s okay.”

“Thank you,” I say softly into the phone with my eyes closed and my heart full of love. “That’s a really cool thing for you to do. He’ll like hanging with you.”

“He’s family,” Shane says. In my mind’s eye, I can see that boyish smile on his face and the casual shrug that’s typical of him. All I can do is smile and acknowledge that, yes, I’ve done a good job.

“He’s family.”

It seems so surreal to be folding baby clothes. Yes, my belly is so big I can’t see my toes and a mountain of yellow clothes surrounds me, but with everything going on, it still feels so very far off and just around the corner simultaneously.

“While the idea of you being tied to the bed is rather hot, I’d prefer to do it with you as a willing candidate and not because you won’t listen to the doctor,” Colton says from the doorway. I turn to find a smirk on his face but the warning loud and clear in his eyes.

“Cute. Very cute,” I say drolly.

“Well, you’d be even cuter flat on your back in our bed.” We stand, a visual battle of wills war between us, and when he finally breaks eye contact and looks around, I notice his startled expression. “You put stuff away?”

“I figured it was about time,” I murmur, slightly embarrassed at how long I’ve let my anxiety hold this process up. “It’s safe enough that if he’s born now, she should be okay.”

“Nice change of pronouns there,” he says with a laugh as he walks up to me and wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on the curve of my shoulder.