Page 60 of Something Reckless

EASTON

“ S eriously, though—are you ever gonna get up and wash your ass?”

Lethargically, I turn my head and find Rocco pinching his nose and glaring at me from the other end of the couch.

Mom leans across from her recliner and whacks him with a throw cushion. “Be nice to your brother. He’s sad.”

“He stinks,” Oliver says flatly, opening all the windows in the living room before dropping on the carpet with the TV remote.

“If we don’t do something about it soon, we’re going to have to call pest control.

” He shoots me an unpleasant scowl as he scoots across the carpet, trying to get further away from me.

My bicep is as heavy as a log when I lift it and take a sniff of my underarm. My eyes water. Maybe I’m getting emotional again. Or maybe I really do stink. At this point, I don’t know.

Mom grabs the remote from Oliver and turns off the television before shooing my brothers away with a wave of her hand. “You know what? Make yourselves useful. Go get him some spaghetti and meatballs. Don’t forget the extra parmesan.”

“We can just order take out,” Rocco whines, trying to sneak the remote from where it’s tucked in the cushions next to our mother.

He’s a brave man.

Mom gives him a warning look. “Scoot. Go! It’s time I have a private conversation with Easton,” she says decisively.

Shit. I’ve been trying to avoid this. I’ve been doing everything in my power to make sure I could delay this moment for as long as possible. Because it hurts too much.

I thought I knew what pain was when I shattered my fibula, when the career I’d worked so hard to build was hanging in the balance. But this—losing Alba and Jagger—nothing compares to this pain.

And I don’t want to talk about it.

But as my brothers stomp into their shoes and shuffle out the door of my Sin Valley apartment, leaving me alone with our mother, I know there’s no hiding from this tough conversation anymore.

Mom moves over to the couch where I’m sitting, but she’s careful to keep her distance. Because, well, I stink. “Easton, you can’t keep beating yourself up about this,” she says softly.

I don’t answer. I just sit there, staring at the blank television screen and allowing the frown to unfold across my features.

Confronted by my silence, my mother reaches across and taps my arm. “Please. Don’t make that bitchy face, son. It doesn’t suit you.”

With an abrupt chuckle, I drop my head and shake it. “Jagger trusted me, Mom. I got this amazing kid completely attached to me. And now, his heart is broken because of me.”

I’m not his father. I never even slept with Raya. All those years, that evil woman let Alba believe that we’d created a child together. But it was just another one of her lies. And I fell for it.

There are no words to describe how much I hate Raya Anderson.

It’s a fury that burns my veins day and night.

Because I thought I finally had the family I’d always dreamed of, I thought I could give Jagger the father figure I never had, but that dream was snatched away from the both of us in the cruelest way.

I hate her.

I slide both palms over my face. “I’m such an idiot,” I mutter into my hands.

I feel Mom’s fingers squeezing my shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. You’re an angel in human form. You’re empathetic and you’re kind.” She sniffles and her voice cracks. “You recognized the broken little boy inside of Jagger, because that broken little boy used to be you.”

I had to be there for Jagger. From the minute I found out about him, there was never any other option.

There’s a lump in my throat. It’s sharp and it’s jagged and it’s cutting off my ability to form a complete sentence. “I always wanted my dad. But he was never there,” I croak out, willing myself not to fucking cry again.

Mom inhales deeply. “Raising you and your brothers wasn’t easy.

But I am so incredibly proud of the man you’ve become.

A man who didn’t run away from fatherhood.

A man who didn’t shy away from what would have been the biggest responsibility of your life.

A man who was ready to do the hard thing simply because it was the right thing.

A man who jumped headfirst into love. Look at me, Easton Matthew Raines. ”

I lift my head, forcing my eyes to meet my mother’s.

“The world needs more men like you.”

A sense of desperation fills my soul. I don’t want to give up on this life I was building with Alba and Jagger. I can’t stand by and watch it be ripped away from me. “Mom, I don’t know what to do…”

She reaches out and cups my scruffy cheek in her warm, soft palm.

“You filled a space in Jagger’s life that had always been empty.

You gave him a love he had always been craving.

And just because he’s not yours by blood doesn’t mean you have to stop being those things he needs.

” She wipes a tear from her eye. “And Alba—you love her. That love is based in a friendship that withstood time and distance. You think your feelings are going to just fade away now because of the results of some DNA test? Sorry to break it to you, but those feelings aren’t going anywhere. ”

“But how? How do we make it work?” I sound like a little boy, depending on my mother for guidance. All ego aside, that’s exactly what I am in this moment. A confused little boy.

Mom smiles softly. “I can’t answer that question for you, East.”

Giving my head a nod, I lean in and hug my mother. She squeezes me back, real tight.

“Look, I’ll say this much—it’s not rocket science, Easton. It’s love. Don’t overthink it. Let your heart lead. Let your heart tell you what to do.”

“Yeah,” I mumble against her shoulder. Let your heart tell you what to do .

“Maybe, instead of viewing this situation as a dead-end, think about it as a fresh start instead,” Mom suggests and I let the words percolate.

Slowly, things are becoming clearer in my mind. This is not a dead-end. It’s a fresh start.

Alba and me? We can start over. Without the lingering guilt of me being her sister’s ex hook-up. Without the stigma of her being my son’s aunt. Maybe this can be our clean slate.

Releasing Mom abruptly, I jump to my feet, feeling alive again, feeling like I have something worth fighting for.

“I know what I have to do…” I mutter to myself.

Mom smiles. “That’s good, son. That’s good.”

Turning on my heel, I charge toward the front door and eagerly tug my shoes onto my feet.

My mother urgently bounces up from the couch and frantically runs in my direction, grabbing my shoulder. “But Easton, please, I’m begging you…take a shower and change your shirt before you go over there and get in that poor girl’s face.”

I get another whiff of my smelly armpits and I shudder. “Oh, right.” I kick off my shoes and make a mad dash for the bathroom.

If I’m going to convince Alba that I’m the man she’s been waiting for, I’d better look—and smell—the part.