Page 53 of Alpha On Top

“When I lost my parents, my entire world crumbled.” Porter lifted his face to mine as I started speaking, and laid his hand against my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw.“They went out to dinner for their anniversary, and on the way home some drunk asshole hit them head on.” His eyes were intense, making my heart stumble on itself. I didn't like talking about my parents, the sheer sadness of the story was usually too much for anyone else to hear.

I hated the look people gave me when they learned I was an orphan. I hated the guilt they somehow placed on themselves and the need they felt to give me handouts.

So I stopped telling people what happened, leaving it open for them to wonder and draw their own conclusions.

But sharing this piece of my life with Porter felt right, it felt like he was the only one who could even understand what I went through.

“It all came out of nowhere; one day they were here, the next they were gone. Just like that, I never saw them again. But I was lucky I had my grandmother, she made everything alright.”

Porter didn't speak, he simply held my face in his hands and kissed me. His kiss was soft and tender, filled with all things he couldn't say out loud.

His kiss said he was sorry I had to go through that.

His kiss told me that he understood.

His kiss told me not to worry about what I lost, but to focus on what I found.

“Oh good, they fit.” Jo popped in from behind us, causing us to jump and break apart. Smirking, her loving smile made me feel right at home, and I wanted to thank her for that.

It felt nice to have a mother figure look at me the way she did. It reminded me of my own mom; the caring eyes, the light smile, the words she was thinking but kept to herself.

“The one in the middle is my favorite,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and not picking on us for making out in her kitchen. “You'd never know it took me almost an hour to get that, neither one would cooperate.” Squinting her eyes, she looked off in the distance, lost in a memory. Shaking herself back into the present, she glanced between us. “Come in the living room, I have something I want to give you, Porter.”

Porter took my hand in his and we followed his mother. Fanning out her arm, she flicked her head for us to sit on the couch.

“What's going on, Mom?” he asked, pulling my hand into his lap and holding it tight. “Where's Franco?”

“He took off for a bit, went to cool down. He'll be back after, and hopefully he'll have his shit together.” Sitting in the chair to the left of her son, Jo clasped her hands and smiled through thin lips.

“Okay, so what's this all about?” Scrunching his brows, he leaned closer to Jo and touched her arm lightly. “Is everything okay?”

Taking a deep breath, she pulled a thin folder out that she had tucked between the cushions. “When you were little, I always wanted you to grow up and become something. A doctor, a lawyer, maybe a pilot like your father. I wanted you to be a man with status, someone who would change the world. . .” Pausing, her eyes drifted around the room. “Life doesn't work that way, and neither do wishes.”

“Mom, if this is some sort of intervention or something, I don't need it.”

“No, no, it's nothing like that.” Brushing him off, she opened the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “You had your own ideas, your own life you wanted to live. I hated it, I hated that you got into the shit you did. But I'm not saying this to upset you, I just want you to understand why it took so long for me to give you this.”

“Okay,” Porter said, his voice unsure and cautious. “Give me what?”

“Franco is against me doing this, but it's not up to him. You're my son, it's my decision.” Passing the paper to Porter, she rested her hands in her lap. “When your father passed, this was left for you, and up until now, I never thought you were in the right place to have it. That being said, I want you to take that and go. I want you to run far far away and start your life over. There's no reason for you stay here, and I can't stand the idea of losing another son to those men.”

Jo's eyes teared up, hands twining nervously around each other in her lap. She tried to smile, but her lips lingered in this awkward position, half up, half down, trembling slightly as she tried to hold in her tears.

“You were supposed to get that when you turned eighteen, but back then, you were—well you know.” Shifting her gaze around his face, she shrugged her shoulder. “You weren't ready, I didn't think you'd do the right thing with it.”

“Mom, I can't accept this.” Trying to hand the paper back, his mother refused to take it. “I won't take your money.” Shaking the paper hard, Porter leaned into her. “Here, I don't want this.”

“It's not my money, Porter, it's yours, it's always been yours. Your father left that to you. You told me earlier that people can change, and you're right. You are different, you're not the man I remember, you're not the boy who lost his way anymore.”

His eyes popped open wide as he looked back at the small black font. “Sixty thousand dollars?”

Jo leaned over, rubbing her son's shoulder and squeezing it hard. “I want you to have a chance in this world, Porter. I want you to live to be old and give me a million grandbabies to adore.”

“Whoa, babies? Now we're talking about babies? Slow down, Mom, let's not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“I know, I know, but the way you look at her,” she said, tossing me a smile. “I could see it in your eyes last night when you showed up here with her. You care, you were afraid for her, I've never seen you so worried about someone else like that. You deserve a second chance, Porter, in every way possible; with me, with Franco, with yourself. Don't let Zander's death stop you from moving forward, you deserve better than this life.”

“I don't know what to say.” His mouth was open, eyes lost and confused, happy and excited.

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