Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 7
I want to promise you a blue sky
Promise you that nothing will touch you
I want to take the pain away
Promise you that I’ll never hurt you
But I won’t since this time I don’t want to fail
[Chorus]
Baby, nothing is perfect
Nothing is painless
But after the rain, the flowers will bloom
The pain rooted in your heart will dissipate
And only love will remain
I wish I could promise that I’ll be here for you
To hold your hand, to listen to you
But I can only promise that I’ll see you through
The storm of rain and blood
Ready to catch you, or to hold your hand
[Chorus]
Baby, nothing is perfect
Nothing is painless
But after the rain, the flowers will bloom
The pain rooted in your heart will dissipate
And only love will remain
I promise to collect each teardrop you shed
Every story you say
Every smile you gift me
Each and every memory you share
I promise to safeguard all of them next to my wounded heart
[Chorus]
Baby, nothing is perfect
Nothing is painless
But after the rain, the flowers will bloom
The pain rooted in your heart will dissipate
And only love will remain
I watch Porter from the window, as he finally finishes the song. Now I believe that he’s also a songwriter. This is the fourth day he’s been working on that song. Instead of heading to bed to be ready for work, I stay awake until he gives up and heads back inside the house. Yesterday when it was raining, he did it from his room, which happens to share a wall with mine. Whoever inspires his lyrics is a lucky person. The more time passes, the more I want to know about him. The less he speaks, the more my curiosity piques.
Harper, who doesn’t take well to strangers, is starting to warm up to him. Finn follows him around everywhere. They communicate through music and head nods and I want to kiss him for trying so hard to spark something inside my son. There’s just something about Porter that . . . I can’t find the words yet, but something about him calls to me.
There’s so much more I have to learn about him. He intrigues me. In only a few weeks, I’ve developed this inexplicable need to be close to him. Am I attracted to him? I don’t know if I can think that far ahead. His deep, smoldering eyes could melt anyone into a puddle of goo. He’s handsome and he has a heavenly voice I could always listen to.
Porter could be a heartthrob anyone could watch serenading thousands of fans from afar while he’s playing on stage. The question remains, though, who is Porter?
As I watch Harper ride her bike and Finn his scooter, I spot a black sedan approaching my aunt’s driveway. A lady with silver hair and a pair of trendy sunglasses honks twice and waves the moment my aunt comes outside her house.
“See you guys tomorrow,” Aunt Molly calls out, waving at us. “Rhonda, you look fabulous.”
See you tomorrow? Who the hell is Rhonda? I don’t get to ask where she is going and why didn’t she tell me before because Rhonda takes off the moment my aunt shuts the door of the car. Those crazy ladies look like they’re ready to raise havoc and I’m happy for my aunt. She spends too much time in her house.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Harper says, and Finn nods, I assume seconding her. I check the time and it’s five thirty. Where did the time go? Feeding them sounds like the motherly thing to do.
I help them bring their toys inside the house and send them to clean themselves up while I start dinner. After washing my hands, I open the refrigerator and the damn thing doesn’t have anything that I want. Shit. There are multiple perks to living next door to my aunt. For one, she cooks for me.
Every Sunday, we head to the grocery store where we buy whatever she writes down on her magical list. A list she prepares based on what she plans to cook for the week. I have a list too. My list usually contains a few items like milk, cereal, fresh fruit, and snacks. Of course, I pay for everything that we purchase, but she keeps most of the food because she does the cooking. The only items I keep are mainly for breakfast and snacks. It never occurred to me that my aunt has a social life. Said life includes getting together with her friends to share a meal outside of her house.
“We’re doomed,” I groan, shutting the door close and leaning my head against the door of the refrigerator.
“Are we going to die?” Harper is in a gloom-doom stage, everything dies and we’re all doomed.
I sigh and shake my head. Me and my big mouth. “No, but we’re going to have to head next door to cook some dinner.”
Without another word, we head to my aunts. As I open the door I spot Porter walking toward the kitchen.
“Did she leave you without food too?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
He turns around and nods his head. “Yes, she said, and I quote. “Feed yourself, and if Mackenzie comes over, feed her too.” So I guess tonight we’re ordering Chinese food or you’ll have to eat what I prepare.”
“With fortune cookies?” Harper bounces excitedly all over the kitchen when Porter nods. “Mom, pretty please. We haven’t had Chinese in forever.”
That’s true, it’s been a few months since I shook the slump and went back to cooking healthy meals. Since Leo died, the only lists I relied on to feed my children were the takeout menus. First it was comfort food, because Leo and I ordered takeout to celebrate, or when it was too cold outside to kick the blankets off and get out of bed. Then it became easier to let others cook for me, since I had a hard time getting out of bed. Planning an entire meal felt like a task I couldn’t accomplish in less than an hour. It wasn’t until my checking account informed me that I was spending too much money on meals that I could prepare at home while bringing back my cooking skills.
Porter pulls his out phone staring at me, when I nod he taps his phone, and then frowns. “What do you guys usually get?”
“Chicken fried rice, beef and broccoli, and sweet and sour shrimp.”
“That’s my favorite,” he says, keeping his eyes on the phone while he finishes tapping it. Then lifts his gaze. “I should be back in twenty minutes.”
“Aren’t they delivering it?”
“No, that’ll take about an hour, it’s best if I go and pick it up.”
Leo was allergic to shrimp. The countless times I ordered sweet and sour shrimp, I had to wash my hands, brush my teeth, and make sure I sanitized the area where I ate. Today I don’t worry about anything but savoring my meal and sharing it with my neighbor. It’s strange that he’s somehow becoming part of our family. We share at least one meal together every day—dinner. He interacts with Finn and Harper daily, playing the guitar for them while they play outside, or helping them while they ride their bike and scooter.
Porter waves at my kids who are placing their plates in the sink. “If it’s okay with you, we could take them to the park,” he whispers so close to my ear that his warm breath raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I shake slightly as the sensation ripples through my entire body. It’s a strange sensation that I brush away. “We can take Harper’s bike along with us.”
I respond with a light, snarky remark. “For a guy that hates to talk, you’re being too social today.” I smirk at him.
Between the permanent frown and serious lips, a smile appears. “Is that a ‘yes, let’s head to the park?’”
I agree, because for once I don’t want the day to end. Today I don’t miss my old life. This is one of those strange perfect days, which I haven’t had in a long time. Once we finish cleaning the kitchen, we ready the kids and ourselves and head to the park. It takes a while for us to arrive, since Finn is set on riding his scooter all the way there. Once we reach the park, I stay with my little boy on the playground while Porte
r jogs behind Harper as she rides around the bike trails. If I had met him today, I’d assume he’s a father, or that he’s close to his nieces and nephews. But he doesn’t have a family. Another puzzle piece appears and, as all the others, I don’t know where to place it.
When it comes time to leave, Finn extends his arms to me so I can carry him. But Porter intercepts him, picking him up as if he’s used to having a little boy in his arms, and then scoops up his scooter too.
Porter helps me with their bedtime and stays while I read a book to them. Once I shut the door, I can’t help but ask where he learned to be so good with children.
He shrugs. “One of my foster fathers has a huge family back in New York. The times I visited, I had to pitch in—everybody helps one another. Babysitting, cooking, or something alike.”
I add that information to the tapestry of stories and memories he shares. There aren’t many pieces yet, but it builds on who he is. Maybe someday I’ll know him well enough to consider him a friend.
“Thank you for today,” he says, taking a step with each word. “For the company.” Another three steps. “It was nice . . .”
He’s in front of me when his voice trails and his eyes lock with mine.
Shit, shit.
His head tilts down. And yes, his mouth is soft when it touches my forehead. Warm as it trails down the bridge of my nose, caressing the tip and finally moving away before reaching my lips. Damn.
“Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He turns around and leaves, closing the door behind him. I touch my tingling mouth with the tip of my fingers.
What happened?
Aunt Molly helps me with the kids in the morning. By the time I come home from work Harper is ready to go to school. I walk with her to the bus stop and then head back home. The schedule we set up has been working well for the past three weeks. Every day I’m thankful that I have her. Today is no exception. Unless I count the shirtless guy coming down the stairs with messy hair that screams, I just rolled out of bed. He’s lean, yet each muscle of his is perfectly delineated under his tattooed skin. Is this the way his hair looks after fucking?
My eyes widen after the question pops into my head. What is wrong with me? That kiss. The one that didn’t happen. It left me . . . wondering.
“Good morning, Mac.” He grins and my heart skips several beats. My skin tingles. Wait, is he flirting with me?
Fuck, what the hell is going on?
As he steps closer, I spot a thin line of scar tissue on top of his clavicle. It travels down his chest, but the welt is masked by a dragon-snake tattoo. I can’t help it and I raise my hand, touching the fading mark with the tip of my fingers. “What happened?”
He shrugs. “A car accident when I was four. I can’t recall the details, but I recall the doctors saying that if the glass had gone closer to the jugular . . . well, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You were there when they died?” He nods. My hand moves to his square chin, peppered with a light stubble. His hands move on top of mine and the touch makes my stomach flutter. Fear of what’s going on between the two of us makes me snatch my hand and take a step back.
He clears his throat, checking his wrist where the initials AJ are, and smiles.
“Today is my day off,” Porter says. “Do you want me to come with you to Finn’s testing?”
My eyes open wide, I pull my phone to check my calendar and realize that yes, today is the day. I found a place where they can test him and where they’ll only charge according to my financial abilities.
“Let me eat a bowl of cereal and then I’ll go and get dressed,” he says, without waiting for me to agree to have him with me. Porter walks toward the entrance door and grabs a set of keys. “In the meantime, why don’t you put his booster seat in my truck.”
“I can drive,” I tell him, staring at the keys.
Wait, he has a truck?
“I don’t doubt your capabilities, but let me help you today.” His words are firm and they reach every cell of my body. He sounds like a man who wants to take charge, be in control. With a relaxed smile and a sweet caress of his thumb along my jawline, he leaves me staring at him. Yep. I think he’s flirting indeed.
I rest my head on the seat while Porter drives back home. They can’t diagnose my boy with anything specific. Other than recommending a place that costs a lot of money, where they can give him other tests that can give an accurate diagnosis, they helped with nothing. The fact that he lost his speech when he lost his father threw them out of their element. Maybe the first counselor I saw in Colorado was right about Finn and it’s his own way of grieving.
“I wish I could lend you the money,” Porter’s voice draws me out of the funk, as my eyes flutter open, he pulls his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and his brown eyes stare at me full of concern. “We can start by using those booklets they gave you. Maybe it will drag out a word or two. He might not have anything interesting to say yet” He chews on his lip. “Sorry, I’m just saying stupid things to try to cheer you up.”
“And I appreciate it,” I tell him. “Thank you for coming with me, this was easier because I had you next to me.”
I blink a couple of times absorbing what I just said. Fuck. I am grateful, but confused about feeling safe with him. The entire situation is creating pandemonium inside my head. When I made the appointment, I was upset at Leo for leaving me to deal with everything all alone. Then grieving because I wouldn’t have anyone coming along and would face whatever they tell me alone. Finally, resigned to deal with it alone, I just casually made the comment during dinner and . . . he’s there by my side. Porter, the unlikely support that my son and I needed today.
“Thank you for letting me ride along,” he responds, opening the garage and pulling his truck inside.
Why would he do that, thank me for doing me a favor? Because we’re becoming friends? A few benefits should come from that title. Sharing information should be one of them.
Yes, Mackenzie, do it.
“If I ask you something . . . would you answer this time?” I bite my lip, fearing that he won’t answer.
“It depends,” he responds with a smooth, yet reserved voice.
“What happened to you?” Four words that carry so much force. Porter’s face hardens, as his jaw clenches.
His eyes darken; he pinches the bridge of his nose as his chest rises and lowers a couple of times. “We shouldn’t stay in the car for so long.”
That’s it? Where is my answer?
I want to ask him but he jumps out of the truck. Carrying Finn’s sleeping body, he heads to my house. Rushing behind them, I open the front door and follow him to the kids’ room where he places him on top of the bed, covers him with a blanket, and kisses the top of his head. As I’m about to ask him a question, he steps closer to me, looking down at me with a serious gaze. His mouth drops to the top of my head giving me a gentle kiss, and hugging me tight.
“He’s going to be okay. We’ll help him. I’ll . . .” He walks away as he releases me. “You’re going to be okay.”
His words confuse me, but I want to believe them. Trust that my son will come back to me. That we’re going to be fine. But how?
Listening to the giggles coming from the swings fills my heart with happiness. It’s been a long time since they’ve been enjoying themselves this much. These evenings at the park, after dinner, are becoming part of our routine. Harper finishes her homework before setting the table just to ensure that we won’t cancel our trip to her favorite spot. Finn helps Porter dry the dishes after I’m done washing them. They both look forward to spending some time at the park climbing the slide and traversing the monkey bars. Finn has a new bike and he’s trying to keep up with his sister. Maybe soon he’ll be riding without the training wheels.
“Mom!” Harper calls out, getting off the swing and running toward me. “Can we play hide and seek? We can all take turns. You and I hide while Porter and Finn look for us, then we switch.”
It’
s been years since we’ve played hide and seek. Usually, Harper would hide and I’d look for her around the house. Some days Leo would join us and I’d be looking all over for both. Finn was a baby. I don’t think we played much when he was old enough to hide with us. I look around the park, smiling, as I think back at the fun we had searching for the oddest places to hide.
“Maybe that’s something we should do at home,” I say, saving my reservations about the plan. Is it safe to hide in the park?
“Teaming up will help find one another,” Porter says with a playful grin. “Girls versus boys,” he says, helping Finn out of the swing. “You can start, because when it’s our turn, you won’t be able to find us. Right, sport?” He looks at Finn, who nods once.
“We’ll find you,” Harper says, tilting her chin up, indignation pouring with those words. “You can go first.”
Finn jumps happily, holding Porter’s hand. Porter smiles at Harper, and extends his hand. “You’re on, Harp. If you can’t find us, you get to dry the dishes tomorrow.”
“If I find you?” she narrows her gaze.
“We’ll set the table for you,” Porter responds, and with that, he jogs away, Finn right behind him. “Count to hundred before you search for us.”
“I found you,” Harper shouts, as she opens the door of the tree house. I’m sure the entire neighborhood is aware of her discovery. Finn plugs his ears, burying his head against Porter’s shoulder, who hugs him tight.
It took us a long time to find them. We walked around the entire park, searching behind the trees, trashcans and every place someone could use as a hiding spot. Harper almost gave up, but they were at the toddler playground inside the “treehouse” that’s not on top of the tree.
“Your giggle gave us away, sport.” Porter tickles Finn when they come out.
Harper opens her arms and walks to him. “I don’t want to play this game ever again.” Harper says, and Porter presses her toward his body with his free arm, giving me a lost stare. “I worried that I wouldn’t find Finn—or you.”