Mess Me Up
Page 10

I looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “All of this over a kid I don’t even know all that well.”
On that parting comment, I walked out of their lives and didn’t look back.
Breaking free of their hold on me felt exhilarating.
The entire time that I’d been working there, I’d felt like I’d owed them. But I didn’t owe them anything, they owed me something.
Half of my paycheck every week went to “this or that” they’d say. What it really meant was that they didn’t feel that I was worth what people were paying for my services, so they kept half of it for themselves.
That was why I’d started cleaning on the side in my spare time, and slowly but surely, my side business had started picking up steam over the years. Now, I had more than enough clients to allow me to branch off on my own.
And, I smiled deviously, I also had clients through my parents who only wanted me.
They loved me. Adored me, really.
I had each and every one of them programmed into my phone, and I’d have to call them quickly before my parents tried to call them and spin a different story.
Which was what I did for the hour that it took me to walk to the mansion on the hill.
When I finally arrived at Rome’s front walk, I was breathless from talking to everyone, but happy nonetheless.
All but one of them had agreed to come over to the dark side—meaning they’d switch to my company instead of staying with my parents’—and they also agreed to be flexible with me after I’d explained more of what was going on.
Which led me to now, standing in front of a door, wondering if I should knock.
I didn’t get my fist halfway raised when the door was wrenched open, and his tired blue eyes were on me.
He didn’t say a word, he just wrapped his large hand around my wrist, causing my heart to race for multiple reasons, and gently pulled me inside.
I was in the living room when I realized I’d forgotten the cookies that I normally brought with me.
“Shoot.” I snapped my fingers in frustration. “I forgot the cookies.”
Rome’s smile did nothing to hide his exhaustion. “It’s okay. He hasn’t been able to hold anything down today, anyway.” He looked over at his son where he was laying on a pile of blankets that were covering the couch. There was a large, silver pot on the floor—I assumed for easy reach—and Matias was laying there in only his underwear with his arms sprawled up over his head.
But the kicker? He was smiling in his sleep.
“I’ve never seen him smile as much as he has over the last few days,” I told the silent man at my side.
“I’ve never cried as much in my whole life as I have over the last few days,” he mumbled.
I wasn’t sure that I was meant to hear that, but I had.
I turned, and, without thinking, walked forward and wrapped my hands around the man’s middle.
The moment I touched him, my entire body locked.
I hadn’t touched a man who wasn’t related to me, at least willingly, in a very long time. And Rome? Well, he was most certainly a man. A big, thick, hard-all-over man.
I’d intended it to be a quick but sweet hug. Then he wrapped those muscular arms around me and pulled me in tight.
I never knew what the heroines meant when I read in my books about feeling protected in a man’s arms. But now, with the way that Rome felt surrounding me? Yeah, I finally got it. I now knew what that protection they described felt like.
We stayed like that for a very long time. So long, in fact, that I wasn’t sure he was capable of letting me go.
Not until his son started to stir on the couch.
Only then did he drop his arms from around me and head to the chair beside the couch.
Leaving me to feel like I’d just lost something precious.
Chapter 6
With enough caffeine I can dress myself and use my big boy manners.
-Rome’s secret thoughts
Rome
The beginning of the end.
That’s what they say, anyway.
We—or I, since Tara was no longer around—knew that this was going to happen.
When the leukemia was diagnosed, the doctor was brutally honest and told us that his prognosis wasn’t good. But, he did say that kids were the most resilient patients and that if there was anyone who could fight this disease and beat it, it was Matias.
So, I didn’t give up hope. I tried my best to stay positive and strong. Until today.
Until I woke up this morning to a son who couldn’t even lift his head.
It was as if once I’d given him permission to stop fighting so hard, to let me take on the battle, he’d degraded exponentially.
It started with him not even waking enough to make it to the bathroom.
Then it degenerated from there.
Now I was on the phone with the doctor, keeping my end of the bargain that we’d made the day I left.
“We suggest palliative care,” the doctor had said. “As of right now, his body is too weak for any more treatments, and to be honest, the treatments haven’t been helping in quite some time. When he shows signs of deterioration, call me, and we’ll get him started.
Izzy, who’d kind of moved in since she came the first time so I could go to the doctor a week ago, was on the couch talking to Matias while I was speaking with the doctor about the hospice care in the other room.
Some of my club brothers were also over, but they were holding down the fort in the kitchen. I think they were here more for me than for Matias.
Even though they loved Matias, they didn’t know him well. It was hard to be around a kid knowing he was so sick. Plus, the fact that his immune system was compromised making it difficult to be around other people. A simple cold for them could be a deadly illness for Matias.
They never had a chance to know my boy.
But, as was my boy’s nature, he’d welcomed them all with open arms when he was allowed.
He already knew Liner, the hard-ass of the club, fairly well seeing as he’s lived next door to him for over a year now.
Bayou fascinated my boy with his hulking nature and brash personality.
But it was Castiel with his beard that truly fascinated my boy.
Then there was Wade, Carver, Rhett, and Ezekiel.
Seven men in total—at least currently in the state and not off working or roaming—were at my house, keeping watch.
Tyler had been and gone, unable to stay away from his job for long.
Reagan had stopped in without Tyler as well.
But it was Izzy, with her constant vigil at my son’s side and the taking over of almost every other duty—except for getting me to bed—that had been my lifeline through it all.
“I’ll contact the hospice,” Dr. Zapata promised. “They’ll probably call within the hour, and most likely, they’ll come right out within a few hours. They’re very good and discreet, I promise you. If you need anything more or have questions, I’m only a phone call away.”
After saying my thanks, I hung up and then shoved the phone back into my pocket, double-checking to make sure it was set to ring since I had been leaving it on silent lately so as not to disturb Matias’ sleep.
Once I entered the living room again, Izzy’s eyes found mine.
She raised one brow at me in question.
I nodded, knowing what she was asking me without her voicing it aloud.
We’d gotten good at non-verbal communication lately, too.
“Daddy, are you going to work?” Matias asked.
Was it me, or did his voice sound weaker, too?
I swallowed past a lump in my throat and shook my head. “No, Ty-Ty. I’m not going to work today. I have the next two weeks off.”
Matias didn’t ask why.
He knew why I had the time off just as well as I did.
It didn’t make it any easier to swallow, though.
My boy, my beautiful little boy, was dying.
The doctor said within the next three to four weeks.
But from the way Ty-Ty was rapidly declining, I knew that it wouldn’t even be that long.
A week and a half if we were lucky. Maybe even less.
I just knew that he wasn’t fighting to hold on anymore.
He’d already fought a long, hard fight. A fight no child should ever have to fight.
And his little body had given up.