Messy Love(8)

A few tears spilled down her face, and she smiled at me. It’s the kind of smile that’s both sad and happy, and it reached me where my heart was still pumping hard.

Without meaning to, Lydia Burton stole a little piece of my heart. I wasn’t expecting that to happen.





WYATT


I couldn’t fucking believe her daughter was here.

I paced the room I used to occupy when I was younger and living here. It still had the dumb posters up with sports cars and half-naked chicks with fake boobs spilling out of very low-cut tops. The bed was still the same one, too fucking small and it creaked every time I turned around. Nothing much had changed, and when I had to leave my place for the renovation work crew that had arrived last week, it brought a sense of comfort. But now… Fuck, now I only wanted to grab my duffel and get out of here.

At first, I thought the chick had been trying to sell something to my mom, but when I saw her eyes after checking out her amazing body, I knew who she was. There weren't that many people with eyes such a color around here.

I ground my teeth and ran a hand through my sweaty hair as I kept on pacing around the bedroom, my sneakers making no sound on the carpeted floor. Now that I was cooled down after my daily run, the sweat coating my skin gave me goosebumps, but I didn’t pay it any attention.

All that’s on my damn mind was the girl downstairs.

She’s my adoptive mother’s biological daughter.

After all these years since my adoption, I’ve been sure her daughter wouldn’t come around. I’ve convinced myself that she wouldn’t step in my family. Shit, I should know being so fucking optimistic was calling for a mess.

I sat gloomily on the bed. It squeaked loudly under my weight and caved in more than when I was a scrawny teenager with barely a muscle to my name.

My phone vibrated on the bedside table making a disturbingly loud noise in the quiet room. I reached for it and glanced at the screen to see a picture of my best friend scowling at me. With the barbell in his eyebrow and the ring in his nostril the guy would be intimidating for the girl downstairs. She looked like a straight-laced one.

I snorted and answered before it went to voicemail. “I’m surprised you’re awake,’’ I greeted him gruffly, a smirk on my face at the memory of how shit faced the dumbass had been last night when I dropped him at his place after we left the birthday party of one of our buddies.

“Shut up,’’ he growled, his words still a bit more slurred than normal. I chuckled, and he groaned again. “Next time you’re hungover I’ll play you one of Tom Morello’s guitar solos so fucking loud you’ll be beggin’ me to turn it off, you sucker.’’

I laughed, and some of the tension left my body. I began to unclench the muscles in my shoulders and then relaxed my abs. “What’s going on, Ralph?’’

“I need coffee. Like really bad. I have a motherfucker of all motherfucker hangover. You in?’’

“Nah, not this time.’’

“Somethin’ wrong?’’

The guy knew me so well he could pick up on my mood. We’ve known each other since before my father abandoned me when I was eight. Ralph was this chipper kid from my school I couldn’t stand, but he was also the only one who stuck by me when it was advertised that my dad left the city without me and relinquished his rights to the State. We’ve always been friends ever since.

“You won’t believe this shit.’’

“I have a pounding headache, and I’m ready to puke, man, so just spill,’’ he retorted in a growl that made me smile against my will. The guy had no patience, and it’s something coming from me considering how my attention span was worse than those of a five-year-old.

“Remember when I told you my mother put her first daughter for adoption?’’

“Uh-uh.’’

“Well, the chick is downstairs with my mom.’’

“The fuck!’’

“Hell, I know.’’ I grabbed the hem of my shirt and brought it to my face to dry the beads of sweat running down my temples. The colder air hitting my bare abs made me hiss. “This is crazy.’’

“What does she look like?’’

“What?’’

“Oh come on, Wyatt! There’s a chick downstairs. What did you think I’d ask? Her IQ?’’

I frowned and ground my teeth again. “I just told you that my mom’s daughter is here and you want to know what she looks like? What the fuck, Ralph.’’

“Don’t be pissy.’’ He sighed down the phone. “I know you, man. You’re mad and ready to lash out like every-fucking-time that someone’s threatenin' the order in your life. But guess what, asshole? She’s not going to steal your spot in your family. She probably has her own family and shit. Just chill and tell me if she’s hot or not.’’

“I don’t give a fuck about her.’’

“Yeah, that’s great, but I don’t. So, is it worth me getting my hungover ass out of bed and visit you at your parents’ or not?’’

I rolled my eyes at his antics, but I couldn’t be annoyed. In his shoes, I’d ask the same thing. When you’re single, and in your twenties, a piece of tail was always going to sound appealing if the chick had a nice rack for example.