Sucker Punched (7 page)

She laughs, practically beaming up at Declan.

They look so happy that it’s impossible for me to be anything but happy for them, even though I know this wasn’t planned. But you know what they say: life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

“Oh my god.” I pull her in for a hug. “Congrats, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Aunt Macy.”

My eyes start to water as I hug her tighter. Savannah’s not had an easy life. And even though she has no blood relatives to speak of, she’s still got family. Right here in this room, she’s got it. “I love you. You know that? And I’m going to love this kid like Dwight loves beets.”

Savannah laughs as she pulls back, wiping tears from her eyes. “I know you will.”

Oh, geez. This crying shit seems to be contagious. I laugh, using the sleeve of my sweater to wipe my face. “Damn it, who’s cutting onions?”

I can’t wait to spoil this kid. Birthdays, Christmases, Veteran’s Day—if it’s a holiday, you can bet your ass I’ll be giving presents.

My excitement lasts for all of five seconds, until I realize what this means.

Fuck me. . .

Aunt Macy can’t avoid Uncle Blake forever.

Where the hell is Declan? I called that fucker half an hour ago, and I know damn well it doesn’t take that long to get from his place to Boston Medical.

Agitated, I take my eyes off the Pats game and look over to my dad, propped up in his hospital bed. 

Old man ’bout gave me a heart attack when I came over to his apartment this evening and found him unresponsive. He was burning up and kept taking these short, shallow breaths. It had me terrified that any one could be his last.

Coughing, he clutches his chest and winces. 

That shit
has
to hurt.

“You okay?”

I hate seeing him like this, withered down to skin and bones. Hooked up to machines and IVs. He’s even got one of those breathing tubes under his nose because his lungs are filled with fluid. Doctor says it’s pneumonia. 

Pneumonia
, for fuck’s sake.

I know shit about medicine, but isn’t that some old-timey disease? Like fuckin’ scurvy or tuberculosis or something? I just didn’t think in this day and age you had to worry about shit like that.

Regardless, it’s not looking good. With his cirrhosis and generally shitty state of health, the Doc warned me that he might not leave this hospital alive. 

I knew this day was coming, ever since he told me a couple months back that his liver’s crapping out on him, but. . .I don’t know, I thought I’d have more time. I thought I’d be ready for it, but I’m not. I’m not at all ready to be an orphan.

Declan better get his punk-ass here soon, or so help me God. . .

It doesn’t escape my attention that Dad’s eyes keep wandering toward the door every few minutes. The poor bastard looks so hopeful.

It’s such a kick in the teeth that this reunion with Declan is only happening because he’s probably about to die, but Dad doesn’t see it that way. He’s just grateful for the chance to see his estranged son one more time. And Declan, the miserable SOB, doesn’t even realize that our old man would gladly kick the bucket every goddamn day just for that chance.

The longer I sit here and think about it, the more it pisses me off. I need to get out of this room and cool off for a bit. The last thing Dad needs is the stress of me putting a fist through the wall.

“I’ll be back in a minute. You need anything?”

He shakes his head, glancing at the door one more time before focusing back on the game.

I swear to God if Declan’s not here in the next five minutes, I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to shove his ass into Dad’s coffin so they’ll be forced to spend eternity together.

Getting up, I storm out of the hospital room and into the hallway, where Declan and Savannah are talking in hushed tones. I should be relieved to see him, but it only pisses me off more.
Why the fuck
is he out here instead of in there with his dad?

I hitch my thumb behind me, trying my best not to shout. “Get your fucking ass in here and say goodbye to your dying father, you little shit.”

I lead them back into his room and Dad takes his eyes off the game as we enter. He looks past me, taking in the son he hasn’t seen in more than ten years. 

I warned him that Declan has. . .
decorated
himself over the years, so I hope he’s not too surprised.

Nobody says anything at first, and it’s the most awkward thing you could imagine. You could cut the tension with a knife. And Declan, the fucker, won’t even look anywhere near him. 

Dad turns down the volume on the game and presses a button on the rail of the hospital bed. It whirs as the back straightens, sitting him up more. “Blake didn’t tell me such a fine lookin’ lady would be gracin’ me with her presence, otherwise I’da put on a nicer hospital gown.” He winks at Savannah, and I stifle an eye roll.

Dude’s literally on his last legs and what is he doing? Flirting.

Can’t say I don’t come by it naturally.

Savannah glances between Declan and me. “Now I see where you two get your charm.”

“I like this one.”

She narrows her eyes at Declan. “
This
one? Just how many were there?”

His deer-in-the-headlights expression forces a laugh from me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother so awkwardly uncomfortable. I love it.

He does not. His gaze flicks over to me, promising unspeakable pain, and I try to cover up my laughter with a cough.

Dad grins from ear to ear. “I
really
like this one.” He adjusts his pillows and points to the chair next to his bed. “Come on over here and visit with me for a bit. Make a dying man’s day a little brighter.”

Declan moves the chair closer to the bed and Savannah sits down, murmuring her thanks. He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes her shoulder before resuming his blocked-off stance by the wall.

Dad watches the whole exchange. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Savannah.”

“Savannah. That’s a beautiful name. I’m John.” He reaches out to shake her hand. “It ain’t as pretty as yours, but try not to hold that against me.”

She laughs. “I’ll try.”

He frowns down at her hand in his. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. Does that mean you’re not a Whitmore yet?”

She looks over at Declan, frowning. “Not quite.”

Dad raises a brow as he lets go of her, looking over to Declan. “Well don’t you think we ought to rectify that? Seems to me if my son was smart enough to land you, then he’d be smart enough to keep you.”

Savannah glances at an unamused Declan, muttering, “You’d think so.”

As much as I love torturing my brother and seeing him squirm, that was not the point of him coming here tonight. It’s time to address the elephant in the room, and there’s no way that’s going to happen if Declan has an audience.

“And on that note. . .” My cheeks puff out on a long exhale. Man, I need a cigarette. “I’m gonna run down to the cafeteria and find something to eat. Anybody want anything?”

“I’ll go with you.” Savannah grabs her purse as she stands. “I could use a drink.”

“Awesome.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to give them privacy or not, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve got it now, and I could fucking kiss her for it. “You two get started on those wedding plans while we’re gone. I want a date and a color scheme by the time we get back.” My voice is all business as I point to my brother. “And Declan, no black.”

Savannah laughs, but Declan doesn’t find it quite as funny. He looks like he’s plotting all the ways he can dispose of my body as I step outside the hospital room.

A second later, Savannah joins me in the empty hallway. There’s no buffer to keep the silence from turning awkward, no bullshit small talk.

I have no fucking clue how to have a conversation with a girl that doesn’t lead to her wrapped around my dick, but it looks like I’m going to have to learn. Seems as if Savannah’s going to be my sister-in-law sooner or later, and I can’t ignore her for the rest of my life.

That would just be rude.

Unsure of where to start, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m not really hungry. I just said that to give them some privacy.”

She nods and takes a seat on the bench next to her. “I’m not really thirsty.”

Okay, so we
were
on the same page.

I pull my cigarettes out and offer her one. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t smoke.”

She doesn’t smoke.
Add that to the list of things I know about Savannah, and that makes. . .three.

1.) She’s got my brother wrapped around her finger.

2.) She can be very opinionated.

3.) She doesn’t smoke.

Oh, and I know what she looks like naked.

Trying not to smile, I put a cigarette between my lips and stare at Savannah, remembering the first time I met her. 

I’d walked into Declan’s apartment and heard the shower running. I needed to piss like a racehorse and didn’t think anything of just walking in there. It’s not like he’s got anything I haven’t seen before, thanks to a broken doorknob in the bathroom we shared growing up. Only it wasn’t Declan in the shower, it was Savannah.

I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or her.

She looks as uncomfortable as I am as we silently stare at each other. Thinking of a great way to break the ice, I stop flicking the cigarette back and forth between my teeth, taking it out of my mouth. “Every time I see you, I can’t help but picture you naked.”

Her jaw drops and I laugh. Crossing the hall, I sit next to her. 

“I don’t
want
to.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I roll the unlit cigarette between my fingers, looking at Savannah over my shoulder. “You’re gonna be my sister someday. Isn’t that like incest or some shit?”

“No, but it
is
icky.” A smug grin replaces her pursed lips a little too quickly. “You know, it’s funny—every time I see
you
, I can’t help but picture you gettin’ it on with Macy.”

Sticking the cigarette behind my ear, I grimace. “She told you about that, huh?”

Shit.

“Oh, yeah.” 

Her tone makes me stiffen. “What exactly did she tell you?”

She bites her lip, grinning almost evilly. “Don’t worry. You got a, uh, glowing review.”

I can’t tell if she’s bullshitting me or not. “Hmm.”

Her smile fades. “Did she not seem. . .into it?”

Staring down the hallway, I scratch my jaw. “She
seemed
into it.” But if she was, then why’d she walk out on me like that, without so much as a word? Did I do something wrong? Was it. . .was it just not good for her? I thought she had a good time, based on the way she came.

Christ, she screamed so loud my ears rang for like twenty minutes afterward.

And now I’m getting hard just thinking about it. “Shit, she seemed
really
—”

I glance at Savannah midsentence and the grossed out look on her face stops me in my tracks. “Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to.” I clear my throat. “I thought we had a good time, but she left as soon as it was over. Wouldn’t even stop when I called after her. No number, no goodbye. Nothin’.”

Normally I like it when a girl understands that a hook-up is just a hook-up. I’m more inclined to seek out a repeat performance if she’s under no illusions that it’s just about sex for me. But with Macy. . .shit, there was nothing “normal” about that.

It’s been a month and I’m still thinking about her. Still analyzing what went wrong.

I
don’t
fucking analyze. I get in, get off, get out.

If the sex was good and she’s not too clingy then I might hit her up again, but I damn sure don’t think about her when I’m doing regular shit. Macy’s popped into my head while I’m at work, while I’m in the shower, while I’m brushing my fucking teeth. . .

It’s annoying as shit.

Maybe I can’t stop thinking about her because the sex was so good. I don’t think I came that hard in. . .
ever
. Or maybe it’s because I finally met a girl who’s better at hook-ups than I am.

For someone who claims to be a good girl, she sure knows how to fuck ’em and duck ’em like a bad girl. She got off and that was it. No thank you. No goodbye. The least she could’ve done was give me a fake number.

That’s got to be why that night’s played on my mind like an endless loop. I’m just not used to being on the receiving end of such an epic brush-off.

I’ve got to admit, it doesn’t feel good.

“Would you have called her if she did?” Savannah asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“If it meant I’d get to nail her again, then abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a pig.”

Standing, I shrug and put the cigarette between my lips again, opening the door to the stairwell. “You never asked if I had honorable intentions, just whether or not I’d call her if given the chance.”