Page 182 of Second Sets Omnibus
I stand tall with a heaving chest, keeping the news of River’s pregnancy to myself. No one marches into my room to check on me because the distance between my brothers and I have hit a fever pitch for the past few weeks. A black void has split between us, making us strangers more than brothers. Callum barely talks. Rad is chasing anything with an ass. And Asher has folded in on himself, remaining quiet and calm—nothing like the man I knew two months ago. But I know something is distracting him into silence. I’ve never seen him like this before.
At that moment, I vow to myself never to fall into the grips of another woman and let her ruin them or me ever again.Pussy, sure. But a full-blown relationship? Fuck that. The last one I had exploded in my face.
I swallow hard, shoving that awful memory into the back of my mind, bringing me back to the situation at hand. River is off somewhere dying, and I’ve come face to face with our daughter, the little girl who magically resembles us.
A perfect damn mix.
Fucking hell, this can’t be real. Is this real? Is this little person with my eyes really standing before me? My heart thumps wildly against my damn ribs.
“This is River’s daughter, Lyric.” A pained expression crosses Rad’s face as he looks down at her and shakes his head. “And by the look on your face, you’ve already guessed that. You’re pale, Bro. Are you finally figuring out that you’re a damn dad? That you purposefully… That you goddamn… Fuck.” Shaking his head, Rad squeezes his eyes shut. Anger swims across his down-turned features until he blows a breath and smothers it away. “We’ll have to talk about this later, so we’re not in front of little ears.”
“But you swears a lot, Daddy,” she murmurs through a sniffle, wiping her nose along Rad’s shirt.
Rad stiffens. “Fuck! I mean. You’re right, Little Pretty Girl. I’m sorry.” She nods, sniffling again.
His words crash into me like a wave, taking me under. Momentarily, it’s hard to suck in oxygen, and my lips pop open. Over and over, his words repeatedly play until they finally fucking stick in my brain. I’m a fucking father. A dad. Shit. The walls close around me as my panic rises and sweat glistens over my flesh. My chest fucking tightens like thick rubber bands constricting the oxygen from my body, and I’m only saved by the heady amounts of adrenaline shooting through my system. Deep breaths, idiot. I can’t freak out now. There’s too much going on to fall down the rabbit hole of realizations. Wiping a hand downmy face, I erase everything going haywire in my body and numb it. The time for panic is later, not now.
“Lyric,”I say softly, running a hand through her hair again. “Where is your mommy? And what’s wrong with her?”
Lyric sniffles, finally lifting her head from Rad’s neck. Her big, mismatched eyes look directly into mine, and she sniffles again, silently pointing down the hall with a hiccup.
“She’s dead in the bathroom,” she says through a quivering lip and clings tighter to Rad for protection.
“You watch the kid, and I’ll go see what’s wrong,” I say with apprehension, taking a step toward the hallway. “We’ll make sure your mommy is okay. Okay?” I swallow hard when she meets my eyes again, and I swear it’s like looking in the mirror. A million questions run through my mind when she nods in agreement, still clinging tight to Rad, who soothes a hand down her back and murmurs soft words in her ear. Protectively he stands taller, watching as I exit.
I have a kid, is the only thought that runs through my mind as I make my way down the silent hallway. I perk my ears up, listening for any sound, but nothing comes to me. On quietsteps, I continue down the never-ending hallway and stop at the end as light catches my attention, leading me to a gigantic main bedroom.
A fully made king-sized bed sits in the expansive room, with a glittery purse thrown on the comforter. Everything around me is in pristine condition. No dust. Not even a scrap of clothing on the ground. I walk further into the room and turn to my left, where the light shines on the semi-closed door. I hold my breath as I slowly push the door open, and my heart speeds out of control. When Lyric said her mom was dead, I didn’t expect to actually find an unmoved body.
“Shit,” I grunt, marching into the bathroom with determination. “River?” Gently I move my fingers through her hair, guiding it off her pale-looking face. Gently I press my fingers into the side of her neck, noting that she still has a heartbeat. Thank fuck. The stench of stomach acid and vomit fills the room. My stomach turns at the putrid smell. God, it reeks like fucking death walked into this bathroom and grabbed River before running away.
River’s upper body clings to the porcelain God as she sleeps, pressing her cheek on the open toilet seat. How uncomfortable. But it was probably the only way to simultaneously get some rest and vomit. I cringe at the thought, crouching in front of her and running my finger over her heat-filled cheek.
“River?” I ask again, trying not to shake her.
“Fuck off,” she mutters but doesn’t move to make me fuck off. In fact, she doesn’t move a muscle at all.
I smirk, almost chuckling to myself as the memories once again assault my mind. It’s so like River to act like this even when I’m trying to help in such a dire situation.
“Sorry, River Blue, but I can’t fuck off. A child was knocking at my door this morning. And I think you and I have some things to discuss.” Emotions creep into my voice, taking themhostage and effectively choking me up. Tears burn behind my eyes as new feelings spill through me in her presence. Sure, I’m still pissed the fuck off at her. She cheated on us like we were nothing. But this? This is a child, and I’m sensible enough to realize there’s more to this story than just black and white. There’s a gray area that needs to be discussed.
River’s eyes pop wide and frantic, refocusing on me as I crouch beside her. Her brows furrow with confusion as she takes me and the bathroom in. At that moment, I hear the distinct gurgle of her stomach as panic swallows her, and she heaves over the toilet.
“Oh God,” she groans as she spills the contents of her stomach into the toilet. “It won’t stop,” she heaves again, spitting more chunks into the water.
My goddamn stomach turns at her noises, desperate to empty, too. But I hold it back, turning my head to give her some privacy. Like a gentleman, I grip back her hair despite the growing, conflicting feelings rising inside me. Just an hour ago, I beat the shit out of my hanging bag to her memory. Now here I am, holding back her hair as she’s helplessly getting sick.
“I think I have food poisoning,” she grumbles, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stupid sushi. Never again.” A shiver runs down her spine, eliciting goosebumps when she sets back, heaving a few breaths. Blindly, she feels for the toilet paper, tears off a piece, and wipes her mouth.
“Well, whatever it is, you’re definitely sick. And apparently, dying,” I grunt, loosening my fingers from her hair as she settles her cheek against the rim of the toilet again. Exhaustion pulls at her features, and she huffs at me.
“Dying?” she grumbles, licking her chapped lips. “Why would I be dying?” she asks softly, flinching away from my touch when I remove some fallen hair strands from her face.
She watches me with suspicion when I plant my ass beside her. My eyes wander across her familiar yet grown-up features. She’s still the same girl I knew back in Central City, yet not.
“Is she mine?” My tongue dries out as I wait on pins and needles for her answer. Even though, in my heart, I already know the damn truth.
The realization of having a kid and not knowing she existed breaks me in half. I promised myself a long time ago that if I ever had a child, I would never do to my child what my father did to me. He took off and never looked back. He made something of himself. He may not have been famous, but he took off for greener pastures and left my mother and me all alone. What kind of man does that? How can a man do that?
