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“Dad,” I called as EMTs arrived.
I moved backward on hands and knees to give them space to work. I couldn’t imagine this was it. Time felt irrelevant as I somehow ended up in the hospital, holding myself up in the hallway just beyond the doors they wheeled my father through.
My mistake was calling my brother.
“This is Kalen.”
“Brother,” I said.
“Connor, please tell me this isn’t about Lizzy.”
“This isn’t about her and don’t ask me anymore. You don’t control my dick.”
One of the passing nurses flushed but smiled as she walked by.
“I’m calling about Da.”
“What about him?” Kalen asked.
“He’s had a stroke or a heart attack.”
Kalen was silent for a moment. “And? We know he’s been sick.”
My brother’s relationship with our father was non-existent. The way Kalen saw it, Da had left him and his mother for dead.
“So that’s it?” I asked.
“What do you want from me? He’s your father, not mine.”
He didn’t mean that biologically. If Kalen had any idea about my mother and Charles, he wouldn’t have made that comment. He meant it because he believed Da was more of a father to me than he was to him. Little did he know.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, tired of all the fighting. I hung up and hated how alone I felt. I wasn’t supposed to need anybody, and I needed a distraction.
Me: What are you doing?
It didn’t take long to get a response.
Lizzy: Working. Something you’re probably not familiar with.
I felt the beginnings of a smile.
Me: Some consider shopping hard work.
The dots circled as she typed.
Lizzy: Ha Ha. I am working. What about you? Have you killed anyone today?
She didn’t understand how close to the truth she was. Had my fight with my father killed him?
Me: Maybe. What are you wearing?
Lizzy: Don’t go all cheesy on me, killer boy. You have better lines than that.
Me: Your eyes go all unfocused when you're about to come all over my cock.
Lizzy: Damn big boy. How am I supposed to finish work after that?
Me: You can always come.
Lizzy: Where?
Me: At your desk. I can talk you through it.
I could visualize her smile as it crinkled the corners of her eyes.
Lizzy: I wish I could. I have to take a rain check. My 4 o’clock meeting has arrived.
Me: Think of me.
Lizzy: Damn you.
I had an inappropriate grin when the doctor came out to talk to me.FourteenLizzyFreshly out of the shower, in only a robe, and reading through my earlier texts with Striker, I was caught off guard when a knock came at my door. I checked my phone, and I had no missed calls. The only person it could be was Griffin, but he was supposed to be in Scotland. Then again, I hadn’t been able to shake the security detail I’d been given, even after a scathing text to Griff. Maybe something had gone wrong. There was another possibility.
But my grin stretched the length of my face when I found Striker on the other side of the door with a six-pack of beer in his hand.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
When I stepped back, he walked in smelling again like leather and wood. A scent I’d now always attribute to him.
“I didn’t get a text,” I said, closing the door.
“I figure you owe me. You sent me an SOS earlier.”
“A DTF.”
“Same difference,” he said, gracing me with his killer smile. “I’ve had a shit day and thought a good fuck would help.”
“The beer?” I asked, trying to hold back a grin.
“I couldn’t come empty-handed.” When I lifted a brow, knowing he had a different reason, he grinned. “Or pay off any asshole you might have over.”
I laughed. “You’re in luck. The only person you need to bribe is me.” I held out a hand for a beer, and he gave me one. “Now tell me the real reason you’re here.”
“I thought the only thing you wanted from me was my cock?”
“True,” I said, walking into the kitchen for a bottle opener. When I turned to offer it to him, he was already drinking his. I shrugged. “Be general, no specifics. Get it off your chest, then fuck my brains out.”
“You’re a therapist now?”
I shrugged. “For the next five minutes.”
He chuckled. “What would you say if I told you my father had a heart attack and named me his successor?”
“Does that make you the biker king?”
Striker coughed. “What makes you think my dad is a biker?”
I raised my shoulders and let them fall. “It’s that, or you’re the son of a billionaire because who says successor? The latter means we couldn’t fuck.”
“If I’m rich, you won’t fuck me?”
“Exactly. Rich guys think they own you, so your dad is a biker to keep things simple. Besides, a billionaire’s son wouldn’t have the ink you have.”
He nodded. “You like my ink?”
“I think it’s interesting you have it only where it can be viewed from the back. Like you’ve got some Jekyll and Hyde envy.”
