Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (7 page)

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Harp,” I snap waspishly.

“Oh, I think the lady doth protest too much. If you weren’t worried about him taking up the challenge, you wouldn’t have your panties in a bunch about what I did, or didn’t say right now.”

“Or, I could just be pissed you thought it was your best friend duty to have any conversation that involved me in the first place. Did you ever think of that?” I ask, reclining into the plush cushion of the wing chair I’m sitting in.

Leaning forward, clasping her hands together under her chin, Harper enquires.

“Have you thought about why he’s still here, Aly? I mean really thought about it?”

I have thought about it. I’ve spent the last few days thinking about little else, and I don’t like the answers I’m coming up with. Not in the least.

Rob isn’t a man with staying power. He runs when the going gets too tough. I brought him home to, Dallas to get him out of a dangerous situation sure, but I didn’t honestly think he’d stay as long as he has. He’s been transient for almost half his life, and albeit he was good friends with my brother’s years ago, I didn’t think he’d stick around to rekindle those relationships. A week, maybe two, tops, and I thought Rob would pack up and be back on the road. But that isn’t what’s happened. And I hate to say it, but I don’t think he has any intention of going anywhere in the foreseeable future.

All that’s left to ponder is; why?

I’m not vain enough to believe I have anything to do with the reason he’s finally decided to hang around. I’m almost sure it has more to do with my brothers offer of a real job that has convinced him to settle down for the time being. A secure job with regular hours and an even bigger paycheck than he’s been used to in the past would most definitely be a carrot for a man like Rob. Not that he’s materialistic, but who wouldn’t want a high five figure salary?

“So, have you? Thought about his motivation for staying that is,” Harper prods. “I mean, it’s not like he couldn’t get a job anywhere seeing as he’s a fully qualified, experienced bartender. Jobs like that are a dime a dozen, and he’s most certainly charismatic enough that anyone would hire him immediately, so there’s got to be a good reason for him to stay don’t you think?”

She’s not wrong. From what I’ve been told, Rob has been tending bar since he was legally old enough to do so. From Sturgis, South Dakota, as far south as, Las Vegas, Nevada, Rob is well-known and liked. He could easily get a job in any one of the establishments he’s already been employed at, and if not one of them any number of others.

“Harp, I get that you’re rooting for the underdog and I love you for it. You wouldn’t be my soul sister if you didn’t. But whatever ideas you’ve got rattling around in your crazy, little head about something happening with Rob and me, you need to stop thinking them. He’s different from the boy we knew when we were younger. I’m different too. This isn’t a love story about second chances, Harp.”

And it isn’t. Some people don’t deserve second chances, and Rob is one of those people. What we had, or more aptly put, the feelings I had for him years ago is where it belongs; in the past.

Twenty years ago… Alysia is twelve and Rob is thirteen

It was the first day of seventh grade, my first year at Lancaster junior high, and what I thought would be an uneventful start to a new school year was anything but. And not because it was my first year at a new school. No, that wasn’t what made today special. Something else altogether more life changing happened…

It started out like any other day when I was in elementary school with, Finn walking Harper and me to school, him separating to meet up with his friends the second we made it to the gates.

Finn would end up being the most popular boy in school this year seeing as Brandt had moved on to Lancaster high to join Brookes after graduating at the end of the last school year. How did I know this? Easy. The Patricks’ brothers were always the top of the food chain no matter where they went.

Not only were they great at sports, all of them, but they were a visual feast for the eyes too. Or at least, that’s what Harper tells me. They’re just my brothers; nothing more, nothing less. Sure, they are all tall with dark almost black hair, and we all share the same odd shade of violet eyes, but I don’t see them the way the rest of the female population, that includes my best friend.

To me, they’re still the same smelly bullies that get some sick satisfaction out of pushing me over, pulling my hair, calling me names, and being overall pains in my ass. They leave their socks and boxers laying around the house, their football kits in the kitchen, their baseball gloves on the couch, and their dirty dishes in their bedrooms. They are typical boys, but where I differ from most girls my age plagued with brothers, I, unfortunately, have seven to deal with, not one or two.

For all their faults, they do have some redeeming qualities. Few and far between, but some nonetheless. I mean, I love them all, but occasionally I wonder what it would be like to be an only child like Harper. But then I remember how much time she spends at our house and reconsider selling them off to the highest bidder, because no matter what, they’re family. And above all else, family sticks together through thick and thin.

But back to the point…

Where most kids starting out in junior high might have been nervous or apprehensive, I wasn’t. For me, this was just another step on the path to growing up. Something I wanted to do faster than was possible most days. I wanted to be in high school already. I wanted to be old enough to make my own choices. More than anything else, I wanted to be independent of my older brothers.

Until now I had just been relegated to the ranks of ‘one of the Patricks’ siblings’. I desperately wanted to be looked at as my own person. A person that was as capable as the other members of her family. Realistically I knew that wasn’t going to happen until I went on to college, or God forbid, I moved away from home. So for the time being I was stuck being lumped in with my brothers.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I didn’t get picked on at school because let’s face it, no one would dare to bully Brookes, Brandt’s, or Finn’s little sister. If they did, there would be retribution the likes they’d never seen before. So like I said, it wasn’t all bad being related to the big, smelly jerks.

After finding our assigned lockers, Harper and I made our way to our first class and claimed seats that would be ours for the next year at least. Just before the bell for the first period rang two shadows darkened the classroom door. One of these shadows would end up changing my young life. The other would have just as much impact but in a very different way altogether.

Tall like my brothers, almost six foot already, a boy with a dark mop of unruly hair that curled around the collar of his T-shirt stepped through the door, making my breath catch in my throat. My first thought was that he looked so grave, but underlying that he looked somber.

His dark brows were furrowed, his deep blue eyes darted nervously around the room taking everything in. His jaw was strong with a small cleft in the center, and his hands were curled into fists at his side like he was waiting for someone to say something about him being in the wrong place.

Every girl in the room looked star struck, and all the boys were instantly on alert as to who our new classmates were. Not that they wouldn’t be accommodating, they would be, they were just curious like all kids our age.

The other boy with him looked more at ease. His eyes were warmer, more friendly. More open if that makes sense. He had dark hair like his friend, but his was lighter, naturally streaked by the sun, and shaved two or three inches from his scalp. His eyes were green instead of blue, and it was obvious that while they were friends, they weren’t related by blood, which only posed more questions. Questions, I for some unknown reason desperately wanted the answers to.

It was at that moment, I decided this boy, the dark haired, blue eyed, mystery boy would be my new best friend whether he liked it or not. I would make sure the shadows that passed through his eyes, the distrust etched all over his face faded away. I made up my mind that no one deserved to look so sad, and I would be the person to erase that for him.

Ms. Atkins, our first-period English teacher, entered the classroom just behind the boys, gesturing for them to take the last two available seats. Seats located closest to the windows, three rows from the front. Dutifully following instructions, they both took their seats down and faced the front without saying a word.

“Good morning class. I trust that you’re ready for the new school year and have come prepared to learn?” It wasn’t a question she wanted an answer to, it was rhetorical in nature, but a chorus of ‘yes Ma’am’ echoed around the room regardless.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Flicking her hand toward the new boys, she added, “We have two new students joining us this year, and I hope you’ll go out of your way to make sure they are made to feel welcome.”

The second boy smiled brightly, but his friend was too focused on what was going on outside the window to take notice of anything the teacher had said.

“Now, if you could both please stand up and let us know your names and a little something about yourselves.”

Oblivious to the instruction, boy number two elbowed boy number one as he stood to get his attention, earning a fierce glare in the process.

“I’m Thomas, and I only moved here from, New Hampshire a month ago.” Sitting down, Thomas went on to answer a few questions about how old he was; thirteen a year older than more than half the class, and what his favorite sport was; baseball of course. He would fit in well, I mused silently. Lancaster junior high was big on sports, baseball being one of the top two. The other being football.

Throughout Thomas’s questioning by the class, boy number one stayed silent and aloof. He didn’t even so much as register the animated conversation going on around him. Something I thought was strange seeing as most new kids tried to fit in as soon as they could. No one liked being a social outcast or so I thought, but this boy seemed more than happy to fade into the woodwork.

Drawing his attention, Ms. Atkins asked,

“And what about you, young man? Would you like to share your name and something about yourself?” When it looked like he would decline, she insisted. “Please stand and let us know your name at least. It would be a shame to call you, ‘young man’ for the remainder of the year.”

This was met with laughter from the boys and giggles from the girls, but I remained silent with my eyes focused solely on the sad boy silently pleading to be left alone.

After a beat or two, he stood slowly. He was graceful, fluid in his movements like he didn’t want to expend more energy than necessary.

“I’m Rob. I moved here from, San Diego, two and a half months ago.” And then he sat, not opening himself up to any further questions. This was evident from the tight line of his shoulders, and the shuttered expression he wore.

Knowing she wasn’t going to get the surly boy to engage, Ms. Atkins went on to call the roll, and set our first English task for the year, a condensed journal of our summer break. Harper rolled her eyes at me, but I was far too fascinated by the troubled expression on Rob’s face to pay her any mind.

Sheer terror had passed through Rob’s eyes before it melted into a look of disgust. However, with a pat on the back from Thomas, a brief nod of understanding and a wink, Rob seemed to settle but not without what I would soon learn was his trademark scowl firmly in place.

All of this only made me more determined to befriend him. A plan I was determined to put into place as of today. Robert Leighton, I’d learned his full name during roll call, isn’t going to know what hit him, because when I put my mind to something; I always win. And in this case, Rob is the prize.

As the days turned into weeks, I found that watching Rob was a more enjoyable past time than almost anything else. By the time we were nearing the three-day break for Thanksgiving, I’d learned almost nothing personal about Rob. All I knew was that he is a fantastic baseball player, he played first base, R
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ob isn’t originally from San Diego but all over, he lives in a foster home with Thomas, and he is perpetually in a bad mood. He didn’t try to make friend’s, he didn’t socialize with anyone aside from Thomas, and he wasn’t interested in participating in anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

Aside from that, the only other things I learned were based on assumptions I’d made. I had no idea if I was even in the ballpark, but if I was, then I was more than a little worried about him. Thomas too.

There were more than a few days, Rob came to school cradling his ribs or his arm gingerly. He sported bruises all over. All of this I noted when the hem of his shirt would rise past the waistband of his jeans, and I could see the colorful array of fading and fresh bruises marring his otherwise perfect skin.

Thomas noticed me watching his friend one day when Rob was warming up for gym class, and for the first time willingly approached me.

“You know he hates that you watch him.”

Taking my gaze off Rob for a moment, I reply,

“Well, that's a shame because I plan on being his friend.”

It was a simple statement of fact, and one I didn’t expect to make Thomas laugh, but nevertheless that’s what he did. Once he was able to get control of himself he looked me over and nodded firmly.

“Good. He needs another friend, and I think you’ll be perfect for the job.” Narrowing his eyes at me, he adds thoughtfully, “Just don’t give up on him okay. He might act tough, but he’s not. He needs someone that sees him for who he is not the guy he pretends to be.”

Walking back to his friend, clapping him on the should, Thomas nods in my direction and is met with a grim scowl from Rob before he goes back to ignoring everyone and everything. His natural state of being.

I stole sidelong glances at Rob all throughout gym class, only stopping when I had to go and change, getting ready to head into my only free period for the week when I’m stopped by a firm hand on my forearm dragging me into the opposite corridor.

“Why are you staring at me all the time,” Rob demands.

Unsure of what to say, I answer truthfully.

“I like to watch you, and I want to be your friend.”

“Why not just talk to me then? Why bother following me around all the time if you’re only going to retreat into hiding when I eve
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ntually notice you?”

Shaking free of his grip. I cross my arms protectively across my chest.

“Because you weren’t ready yet.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He snarls.

Rolling my eyes, praying for patience I don’t have, I say bluntly.

“You’re not ready for me to be your friend yet, you still need time. I’m sorry if I upset you, though.”

Mirroring my stance, his muscled arms crossed over his chest, he cocks an eyebrow in question.

“How will you know when I’m ready then, and what makes you think you’re qualified to be the judge of that? And why do you believe I’d even agree to be your friend anyway?”

Now that’s a harder question for me to answer, because truthfully, I don’t know. It’s all based on this feeling I have in the pit of my stomach. An ache to be someone he confides in. A yearning to be someone else who cares about him. Someone other than, Thomas.