Frayed (Connections, #4)(69)

I turn around. “Yeah, sorry about that. I have to go.”

She stands there pissed as hell looking at me. I shrug, not really caring about being cordial right now.

“You’re an *,” she mutters.

“Yeah, I am,” I toss back at her.

We hit the outside a few seconds later and the sudden burst of air makes my stomach turn. Beck and Ruby walk in front of me not saying a word. They turn into the side alley where Beck’s Jeep is parked. I start to feel sicker with each step. I stop at his car but have to brace my hands against the brick of the building and hang my head. Inhaling and exhaling over and over, I catch my breath.

“You’re not going to barf in my car?” he asks.

I shake my head no and climb into the backseat with my head spinning.

Over his shoulder as he drives he asks, “Where are you parked?”

“I have no f*cking idea.” I laugh.

“Are you for real?”

“What crawled up your ass?”

He slams his foot on the brake and jerks the car into PARK, then turns around. “I don’t want to see you ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”

His words are sobering. “I found out today I have a kid out there somewhere that I never knew about.”

Ruby’s head snaps in my direction.

Beck’s eyes soften. “Let’s get your vehicle and get you home and I’ll throw on a pot of coffee and we can talk about it.”

“Okay, man. I think my bike’s down on Melrose somewhere.”

Beck rides my motorcycle and Ruby drives his Jeep to Laguna. I fade in and out of consciousness until we hit the beach. The smell of the sea air awakens my senses. I stare out the window and into the vast body of water. Childhood memories assault me one after another—making sand castles, flying a kite, shell hunting. My phone is vibrating like a motherf*cker, but I ignore it. When we get to my house, I sit at the kitchen table and cradle my head in my hands.

Beck makes the coffee and pulls three mugs from the cupboard.

Ruby sits beside me. She takes my hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I take a breath. “You know the girl I told you about?”

“The one with the French name?”

I can’t hold back a slight smile. “Yeah, S’belle. Well, her name is Bell.”

She nods, obviously already knowing this.

Beck sets three cups of coffee on the table and has a seat.

I take a sip of mine. “I . . .” I ponder how to say I f*cked her one night without a condom and never thought twice about the lack of protection.

“You slept with her and she got pregnant?” Ruby asks.

I stare down at the table. “Yes, I slept with her one night my senior year of college when I had a girlfriend.”

“Dahlia?” she asks.

I nod, not really remembering how much I told her during any of my previous drunken ventures but ascertaining that I blabbed about plenty. “She told me today . . .” I tell them both everything that happened earlier this evening. They listen, no judgment or comment.

When I’m finished baring my soul, Ruby asks, “Do you know if it was an open or a closed adoption.”

My eyes rise to hers. “I have no idea. What does it matter?”

“An open adoption usually has an option of contact.”

I shoot her a quizzical look.

“I’m adopted. I’ve known since I was six years old, but my adoption was closed.”

“Your parents told you when you were young,” I comment.

“Yes, they didn’t want me to feel any less loved and I didn’t. In fact, I grew up feeling extremely special. But a part of me wanted to know who my birth parents were. I went through the whole nature-nurture debate in my mind and when I turned eighteen I paid a woman five hundred dollars to locate my biological parents. She wasn’t able to find my birth father, but she gave me the address and phone number of my birth mother.”

“Why couldn’t she locate your birth father?”

“His name wasn’t recorded on the birth certificate.”

With my elbows on the table, I steeple my hands together and then look over toward Ruby. “Did you contact your birth mother? Did she tell you who he was?”

She shakes her head. “I love my parents—my adoptive parents, and once I had that piece of paper in my hand, I decided I didn’t need to know.”

Beck stands, lifting his empty cup. He looks down at Ruby. “We should go.”

She glances up at him and nods. She rises and shifts her eyes to me. “Ben, if you ever want to talk, call me.”

I walk them to the door and Beck leans over toward me. “You call me first the next time you feel the need to go to my bar. You know I’m always here to talk.”

I nod sincerely, shooting him an appreciative glance.

Staring at them as they walk to their car, I think about what Ruby said. Then I stand there wondering if someday in the future I’ll be sitting across from a person with a piece of paper in her hand with my name on it.

? ? ?

He runs down the stairs with a football tucked under his arm. He’s wearing a Chicago Bears football helmet and a blue jersey that’s too big for him. It looks so familiar.

“Hey, champ, slow down,” I call as he hurtles past me.