Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me Book 3) (3 page)

"You can't repay her with money," Brock said. "It was her grandma's ring. It's priceless."

"I'm sorry Brock, but it's gone."

Chapter 4

Brock wasn't the type to take 'no' for an answer. It took some coercing, but he finally managed to get the information he needed from Tyler about Mickey's whereabouts.

Tyler warned Brock adamantly that Mickey wouldn't want to be surprised by a stranger—especially one who was asking for something. But they'd been in dangerous situations with dangerous people while they were in the Navy, and Tyler could tell that Brock wasn't backing down from this one, so he'd offered as much information as he could, including a detailed description of the ring.

Three hours after he arrived in Austin, Brock was on his way to the place he hoped was Mickey Silliman's house. Tyler didn't have an address, but he gave directions and described everything as best he could.

Brock was pleasantly surprised when he pulled up at the place Tyler led him to. He knew from the description that it was in a nice neighborhood but was still taken aback by how upscale it was. There was a circular driveway in the front with a few cars parked along it. Brock parked his truck between two of them, got out, and headed to the front door. It opened before he was able to knock, and a big, burly man in a plum colored, velvet sweat suit stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

"How can I help you?" he asked in a matter of fact tone before rubbing his hands together as if to indicate that he didn't like being out in the cold.

"Are you Mickey Silliman?" Brock asked.

"No, I'm not." The man stared at Brock as if that should be enough information to get him to leave.

"Is this Mickey's house?"

"Who's asking?"

"My name's Brock Rollins. I got Mickey's name from Tyler Butterfield."

The big man let out a sarcastic laugh and muttered a curse. "What's Tyler want with Mickey?" he asked.

"Tyler doesn't want anything with him. I do."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out," he said.

"I believe Tyler gave Mickey something that wasn't his to give, and I'm here to get it back."

He laughed. "Mickey doesn't give things back."

Brock sighed. "Listen, do you mind if I talk to him myself? I'm willing to pay more than it's worth. I just need it back."

The man looked Brock over for a long time with an apprising glare before motioning with a flick of the head for Brock to follow him. "Wait right here while I go see if Mickey wants to talk to you," he said, pointing to a small seating area near the foyer.

"Thank you," Brock said.

The man glanced at him with an expression that said,
I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you
, before taking off to talk to Mickey.

Brock leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he waited anxiously to speak to Mickey. It took about five minutes, but the big guy finally appeared, walking toward Brock with a satisfied smile. He stopped in his tracks when Brock noticed him and waved, telling Brock to come with him. Brock did so without hesitation.

"Thank you for making this happen," he said as they walked down the hall together.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I was you, but I did my best to talk Mickey into hearing you out."

"Thank you," Brock repeated.

"You might not be thanking me in a minute," the man said. He let out a laugh. "I suppose he's gonna ask a favor of you." He said that last bit in hushed tones as he opened the door to what looked to be a big office area.

The far wall was made up of windows looking at the beautiful back patio, and Mickey, who had been staring out of them, turned slowly in his desk chair when he heard the door open. There was another one of Mickey's goons sitting off to the left. Brock's military training kicked in, and he accessed the three men and calculated what it would take to defend himself against them—assuming of course that they weren't armed, which they probably were.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Rollins?" The man at the desk said. He was an older man with balding white hair and a moustache.

"Are you Mickey?" Brock asked.

The man gave a curt nod and motioned for Brock to sit down, which he did.

"Tyler Butterfield paid you with something that didn't belong to him, and I'm here to see about getting it back," Brock said.

"You told Leo, and he told me," Mickey said with another slight nod.

"I'd like to see about getting it back," Brock repeated.

"You already told Leo that, and he told you I wasn't in the business of giving refunds. Your friend Tyler still owes me a grand. He's lucky I like him."

"Well, he said he gave you a ring that belonged to me," Brock said. "It's a family heirloom, and I need to get it back."

Mickey, Leo, and the other goon all laughed at Brock's nerve.

"I'm willing to pay the thousand dollars Tyler still owes you along with whatever amount you gave him for the ring. I'd also be willing to throw in a piece of my art." Brock paused and looked around. "I see that you're a man of fine taste, and I think one of my pieces would fit well in your home."

"What are you, a painter?"

"No sir, I make furniture. But I've been told my stuff's more like art. I was featured in Home and Garden magazine, and I have thirty pieces about to go on display at the Hanover Gallery in Miami right now."

"Home and Garden, huh?" Mickey asked looking ever so slightly impressed.

"Yes sir."

"How much does this furniture go for?"

"Two to ten thousand depending on the piece," Brock said.

Mickey sighed and regarded him thoughtfully. "The problem is, my lady's real fond of that ring."

Brock's heart nearly leapt from his chest when Mickey mentioned it as if it still existed and may very well be in this house. He kept his expression neutral, trying not to show his excitement. "I'm sure she'd like a piece of custom made furniture, and like I said, I'd pay you for the ring and settle Tyler's debt."

Mickey didn't say anything. He just looked Brock over the way he'd been doing the whole time. Finally, he shifted his attention to Leo, and gave him a smile. "You were right about his size," he said. "And he looks athletic. I think he might be perfect." Mickey turned to Brock who was now regarding him with a curious, cautious expression. "Do you know how to fight, kid?" he asked.

Brock hadn't been called kid in a long time, but he gave the man a slight nod. He did know how to fight and he would not hesitate to do it if necessary. He looked around again, assessing the situation, but Leo, Mickey, and the other man all maintained a relaxed posture.

Mickey smiled and raised his fists as if putting up his dukes. "With your fists, kid," he said. "Can you fight with your fists?"

Brock looked down again before answering. "Yes sir, but I prefer not to."

Mickey laughed again. "Well, it might be your lucky day. I'm in a bit of a bind, and you might be just the man to help me out. We do a little bare-knuckle action once a month, and my boy who was supposed to fight, uh, he can't make it. You see, I enjoy these fights, and I stand to make a lot of money if my guy comes out on top."

"I'm not your man for that type of thing," Brock said, shaking his head.

"Then I'm not your man for the ring," Mickey said with finality. "Good day Mr. Rollins."

"Did you hear me when I offered to pay you more than the ring was worth?" Brock asked, unable to believe the man wasn't being reasonable.

"Did you hear me when I said I didn't need your money? I'm asking you to fight for it."

Brock wanted to unleash on Mickey, but he had no idea where the ring was and figured agreeing to this fight might be the easiest way to resolve the situation. "So you're saying if I do your bare knuckle fight, you'll give me the ring?" he asked.

"I'm saying if you
win
I'll give you the ring. A win, plus a piece of art for my lady. You can forget the money Tyler owes me if you agree to those terms." Mickey smirked at Brock. "Do we have a deal?"

"So you'd just forgive the debt Tyler owes you and give me back the ring if I win?"

"I hate the idea of canceling our main event, and I stand to make a lot of money if you win, so I wouldn't call it
forgiving the debt
."

"And what if I lose?"

"Then I'll lose some money, and you'll go home without your precious little heirloom. But you won't," Mickey added. "I can see in your eyes how bad you want it."

"When's this fight supposed to take place?"

Mickey looked at his watch. "Four hours."

"Tonight?" Brock asked disbelieving.

"I thought I made that clear when I said my guy had to back out."

"You didn't say it was today," Brock said.

"It's today," Mickey said. "You in or out?"

"If I win this fight, you give me the ring tonight?" Brock clarified.

"Yeah, but I still want that custom piece for my lady since she's gonna be mad at me for giving away her ring."

Brock cringed inwardly at the way he called it 'her ring'. He imagined the hurt in Trish's eyes when she spoke about it, and hated anyone else thinking it was theirs.

"And if I refuse?" he asked one last time.

Mickey threw his hands into the air. "Then you can leave," he said. "I don’t need whatever amount of money you want to offer. I had my heart set on a fight tonight, and you seem to fit the bill. Plus, you're playing for something special to you, which means you'll have heart. That always makes for the most interesting fights."

"How do I know you have the ring?" Brock asked.

"You'd be pretty stupid coming here if I didn't," Mickey said.

"I want to see it," Brock said. "I want to make sure you have it with you when I fight tonight, and I want your word that you'll give it to me when I win."

Mickey busted out laughing. "My
word
," he said. "You get a load of this kid?" he asked Leo. "My
word
," he muttered. "My word doesn't mean anything, kid."

"Yes it does," Brock said. "I want to see that you still have the ring, and after that, I'll go on your word that you'll give it to me."

"And what if I lie to you?" he said, still smiling.

"You'd regret that," Brock said. "But you won't."

Mickey gave him a nod before looking at Leo. "Go ask Sheila for that diamond cluster ring with the wide band," he said. "Tell her I need it for tonight, and if I wind up losing it, then I promise to make it up to her."

"She's not gonna like me for that," Leo muttered.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Mickey asked. "You're the one who came in here, 'oh Mickey, I think we got just the guy for the fight tonight… oh, Mickey hear him out."

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Leo said, tossing his hands up in surrender as he walked out.

Ten minutes later, Leo came back into the room. He shot Mickey a non-descript look that said his visit to Sheila wasn't necessarily pleasant before placing the ring on Mickey's desk. Brock's heart began racing as he leaned forward to inspect it. He wished he was armed and in a military situation. He would grab it, duck and roll, and shoot all three of them before running for the door.

He leaned forward to make sure it was the ring Tyler described, but didn't even reach out to touch it. He sat back in his chair once he was satisfied that it was the right one. "So I'll win this fight tonight and take it with me when I head home. Maybe I should speak with Sheila before we go about what sort of custom piece she wants. I have a few pieces in front of it, so it'll take me a month or so, but I'll have it shipped to you once it's done."

Mickey seemed amused as he rocked back in his chair. "You sound pretty sure of yourself for tonight's fight."

"How big's the guy?" Brock asked.

"You have to weigh in between 175 and 225. I assumed you fell between these weights.

"Right in the middle," Brock said. "As long as he's not carrying a weapon, I'll be taking home the ring. Should I speak with Sheila, or will you be choosing for her?"

Mickey laughed. "As long as he's not armed… You hear this kid?"

Leo laughed and nodded. "What, you got some special training or something?" Mickey asked.

"Something like that," Brock answered dryly.

"Oh, that's right, remember? Tyler told us he was part of some special unit. You'd never know it with how strung out he was."

"Happens to the best of them," Brock said. "He'll get back on his feet."

"We'll have to see how you do tonight, kid. If you put on a good show out there, I might have to see about hiring you for some future matches. It's usually good money."

Brock shook his head. "Thanks, but it's a one-time thing." He motioned to the ring. "That's all I'm after."

Chapter 5

It was a beautiful but chilly Sunday afternoon, and I was curled up comfortably in the corner of a couch at my favorite coffee shop. I was there with my roommate, Ryan. Yes, we could have made coffee at home, but where would the fun be in that? Neither of us had anything better to do, and we both enjoyed taking in the sights and sounds of the coffee shop. It was a place we went to on a regular basis, so most of the baristas knew us by name.

We'd only been there a few minutes when a family caught my eye—at least I assumed they were family. I figured it was a couple with their grown daughter. The reason I took note of them was that the daughter seemed to have Down Syndrome. I'd been volunteering at a place called the Happy House for over a year. It was a non-profit organization providing a place for people with disabilities to take classes or just hang out and have fun. Claire and Jesse Bennett started it for their son Thomas, and I had become close with their family during the time I'd been volunteering.

This might seem weird since Emily Bennett was the girl who just got engaged to my ex-boyfriend, Shane, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. I was happy for them in spite of the fact that I'd been unable to find someone as good as Shane since we broke up. I taught a weekly creative writing class at the house and had a blast every time I went there.

I watched the family at the coffee shop as they interacted with each other. I couldn't help but think about how perfectly they'd fit in at the Happy House.

"Why are you staring at those people like a big stalker?" Ryan asked.

His question made me laugh. I glanced at him. Ryan was a bartender and had been out really late the night before. His hair was standing on end, which prompted me to reach up and smooth it down. "I was trying to decide if I should go up and talk to them about the Happy House," I whispered, answering his question.

Ryan glanced at the family and then turned to me with a shrug.

"Do you think it'd be rude to introduce myself?" I asked, still whispering.

He shot me a confused look. "Why would that be rude?"

My eyes widened. "Because I'd be approaching them about the Happy House," I said. "I didn't know if it was okay for me to just walk up and say, 'Hey, I see you have Down Syndrome. I think you would really like to hang out at this place.'"

"So don't do it," Ryan said, offering no help whatsoever.

"I want to, though. Look how sweet they are!"

He shrugged and shook his head as if I was being impossible. "Do it, then."

I watched him for a minute longer. I really did fear that approaching them would be awkward, and I hesitated to do it, but I was so proud of the Happy House that I just had to make sure they knew about it. I let out a sigh.

"What?" Ryan asked, looking up from his phone.

"I have to do it."

"Well, you better go ahead before they leave."

I sighed again, working up the nerve as I dug in my purse for one of Claire Bennett's business cards. "If I have one of her cards with me, then I'll go there. If not, I won't."

"The card will be the sign!" Ryan said dramatically, making fun of me.

I punched his shoulder before continuing to look in my purse. Sure enough, I found one of her business cards at the very bottom. I took a deep breath as I unfolded my legs and stood to cross the room. I went through a few opening statements in my head on the way over there.

"Hey guys, I was noticing how cute and sweet you were…"

No.

"Hey guys, I think you'd be perfect at the place where I volunteer…"

No.

"Hey, I see you have Down Syndrome."

No.

The last thing to cross my mind before I opened my mouth was that I should have taken more time to plan what I was going to say before I stood up. But now it was too late.

The couple I assumed were the parents looked up and smiled at me as I approached.
What have I gotten myself into? What was I going to say?
"Heyyy," I said, smiling. "My name's Trish Carmichael." I handed the card I was holding to the mom, and she reached out and took it with a smile. She glanced at it. "Do you guys live in San Antonio?" I asked.

"Yes," the mom said cautiously.

"We live at 682 Mulholland Road, San Antonio, Texas," the daughter said, causing the mom to glance at her with a motherly warning glare.

"I grew up near Mulholland Road," I said, smiling at the girl.

She smiled back at me, and I couldn't help but think about Thomas. I knew this girl would have fun at the Happy House, and I prayed I wouldn’t botch the introduction.

"My name's Mary Katherine, but my mom and dad call me Mookie for short."

I extended my hand to shake hers. "My name's Trisha, but everyone calls me Trish for short."

"Do you like coffee?" she asked.

"I love coffee. I come here so much that they know what I'm gonna order before I even order it."

Mary Katherine cracked up at that statement, which made me laugh right along with her.

"This says Claire Bennett," the mom said, holding up the card as if I must have given her the wrong thing.

"Oh, yeah, I, that's not my card." I laughed nervously. "That's the lady who owns the Happy House. I just volunteer there once a week."

She stared down at the card.

"Anyway," I said. "It's a really cool place, and it's free, so I wanted to give you guys a card in case it was something you'd be interested in. They have classes, and video games, and all sorts of other fun stuff there. I teach a class on Mondays." I paused for a second, but they still seemed sort of confused, so I blurted, "You can find more information on the internet. The website's listed on the card. It was really nice meeting you guys!" I smiled and started to turn away, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed to have gone over there in the first place.

"My mom's name is Sarah Miller and my dad's name is Fred Miller. I'm Mookie Miller, but you can call me Mookie or Mary Katherine."

I couldn't help myself. I reached out and gave her a hug for being so sweet at a time when I was nervous and flustered. "I hope I see you again, Mookie Miller. I think we could be good friends."

"Is that your work?" she asked, pointing at the card her mom was holding.

"I wouldn't call it work because I mainly go there to have fun, but yes, I'm there once a week on Mondays if you want to come hang out."

"Can we?" she asked, staring hopefully at her mom.

"We'll have to see," she said. "I'll look it up and see what it's all about."

"Trish said they have classes and games, and it's free for everybody."

"I heard her, but we still need to do a little research, don't you think?"

Mary Katherine nodded, and I put my palm out to high five her.

"It was super cool meeting you, Mookie Katherine," I said.

She cracked up at that. I put my palm out to her mom and then her dad forcing them to high five me as well, which they did with a smile.

"Sarah, Fred," I said, "nice meeting both of you."

"Nice meeting you too, Trish," Sarah said.

I turned to walk away, feeling much better than I had the first time I tried to leave.

"Looked like that went well," Ryan whispered when I got back to the couch.

"It was a little awkward at first, but we worked it out. I love that girl. Her name was freaking Mookie. Isn't that wonderful? It's short for Mary Katherine."

"I guess it's pretty wonderful," Ryan said amused at my excitement.

I rolled my eyes and punched at his arm.

"Are they going to come to the place?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "They might think I was a crazy person and throw away the card, but at least I gave it to them."

The Miller family left a few minutes after I talked to them. Mookie called my name and waved at me as they were on their way out. I blew her a kiss and she blew me one back.

Ryan and I stayed there for another hour before deciding to head home. Annie and Isaac were both there when we arrived. She was sitting at the kitchen table staring at her phone and Isaac was sprawled out on the couch watching television. I had some papers to grade and planning to do for school the next week, so I went straight to my room after greeting the two of them.

I'd been in there for quite a while and was up to my eyeballs in grading essay papers when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. "Come in!" I called.

Ryan opened the door slowly and peeked into my room.

"You can come in," I said, shifting my head from side to side to stretch my aching neck. "I need to take a break anyway."

"Somebody's out here to see you," he said. He was wearing an odd expression that made me sit up straight.

I dropped my red pen onto the stack of papers. "Who is it?" I asked.

"I think it's Shane's brother," he said.

"Brock?" I asked, confusion evident on my face.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really remember what he looks like, but I think it's him."

"What's he want?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to know? I just answered the door and he asked if he could speak with you."

I instinctually touched my hair, knowing it was a total mess from me playing with it while grading papers.

"Is he in the living room?" I asked.

"Of course not. I didn't think you wanted him to come in here." Ryan gestured to his own face with a wave of his hand. "His face is all messed up," he said with a cautious, grossed-out look.

"What do you mean all messed up?" I asked, standing up.

"I mean it looks like he got hit by a truck."

"Are you serious?" I asked, feeling like this whole thing was just a big joke. "Is Brock Rollins really here?"

"Yes!" he said. "Why would I lie about something like that?"

"I don't know, it's just really weird," I said, walking towards the living room.

"Do you want me to tell him to leave?" he asked. "I told him I wasn't sure if you were home when I answered the door."

I shook my head. "Are you sure it was him?" I asked, walking past him into the living room.

"I think so, " he said. "I only met him once or twice."

We had long windows on each side of the front door and I pulled one of the curtains back ever so slightly to get a look at him before I went out there. The guy was standing with his back toward the door, but he certainly fit the description from behind.

"What's he doing here?" I whispered.

Ryan was a few feet behind me. "Do you want me to tell him to leave?" he asked.

"No, I'm all right. I'll see what he wants."

"I'll be right in here," he said. "Just yell if you need me to come rescue you."

I laughed as I cautiously opened the door. Brock turned to me the instant the door opened. Ryan was right, he had a black eye, a cut lip, and a big cut and bruise on his eyebrow. "What happened to you?" I asked, closing the door behind me. It was chilly out, and I felt a little guilty for not inviting him inside, but not guilty enough to do it.

He lifted a shoulder and shook his head imperceptibly. "Nothing," he said.

"Do you know you have a black eye?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said dryly. He just stood there staring at me. "You were right," he finally said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, but at that point, he took one of them out, and extended it. His closed fist hovered in the air between us for a few seconds. It was bruised as well, and I wondered why in the world he was showing it to me. I regarded it, and then looked up to meet his eyes with curiosity all over my face.

"I'm sorry," he said. He turned his hand over as he opened it, revealing my grandmother's ring. It was sitting right there in front of me. I never thought I'd see it again, and the feeling of relief that washed over me was indescribable.

I was only able to enjoy that feeling for a few seconds because it was followed by the realization that he had been lying to me all along. He took it from me, made me ruin a perfectly good relationship, and lied to me about it. Obviously, it took me slapping some sense into him at the gas station for him to realize that he was wrong and finally give it back.

He must have seen my shift in mood as I thought about everything, because his eyes widened and he took a cautious step backward.

"I knew it!" I said, springing forward to snatch my ring off of his hand before he could change his mind and take off with it again. "You're a thief and a liar, Brock Rollins, and I knew it all along! You should have given this back a long time ago. A lot of people got hurt because of you—especially me!"

I angrily stuffed the ring into the pocket of my sweatpants before pushing him roughly with both hands on his chest. My shove took him by surprise, and he teetered as he took a giant step backward with an expression of shock.

"I'm glad you had the decency to return it and everything, but you'll understand if I never want to lay eyes on you again!" I said.