Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(78)

I shove my middle finger into the air and hope to God he sees it. For a second, I fear he might come in behind me and continue to harass me, but when I grab a water and find an empty seat inside with the blessed air conditioning, I’m grateful to see he’s gone.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see I have a text from my mom.

Last minute, I know, but can you watch Jack tonight?

Last minute, like that matters. I have zero social life.

I text her back.

I can do that. What time?

I take a few swigs of water, feeling a little better.

Seven until late. Maybe midnight?

No problem. I’ll bring my school stuff and sleep there.

Thank you, honey! See you then.

Free dinner, a warm bed, and my baby brother? Sounds like the perfect cure to my shitty day.

~~~

“There’s veggie lasagna in the oven.” My mom’s heels click across the hardwood floor as she grabs her clutch, and I smile, watching Blake watching her. Eyes wide, lips parted, that subtle awestruck gaze. It’s the same look Jack gets when staring at a doughnut.

I don’t blame Blake for still being gaga for Mom. She’s smokin’ hot. His feelings for her give me hope that I might not end up alone, that a great guy could fall for a single mother.

“You cooked veggie lasagna?”

“Of course not.” Blake scoffs. “I did.”

“Where were you when we were living off cereal and peanut butter?” I laugh and poke my head into the living room to see Jack playing with his toys on the floor.

“I was waiting in the wings.” He flicks lint from his dark gray button-up dress shirt. “Gearing up to blow your minds with my culinary flair.”

My mom’s warm palm cups my cheek, and her eyes roam over my face. “Are you feelin’ okay?”

I turn my face away from her touch. “Mom, you worry too much.”

Blake comes alongside her and stares down at me. “She’s right to; you look tired.”

“That’s because I am.” And heartsick over losing my other half to a gorgeous model-looking fighter, but they don’t need to know that. Pregnant by a f*cking * who purposefully tripped me at school. There’s nothing in my life that doesn’t make me tired.

“Jack’s ready for bed. Feel free to crash out as soon as he does.” Blake hooks me around the back of the neck, pulling me in for a hug. “Hate leaving you with him if you’re tired, kiddo.” He releases me to be hugged by my mom.

“It’s okay, really. I’m looking forward to a good dinner then flopping on the couch and watching Nickelodeon.”

My mom holds my face between her hands. “We won’t be far away. If you need us, just call, okay?”

“No need. We’ll be fine.” I pat my mom’s hand and go into the kitchen to dish up my dinner.

Mom and Blake give Jack kisses good-bye then head out to the garage. “I’m arming the alarm, so no opening doors.” Blake hits the four-number code and I salute him.

“Yes, sir.”

He grins—“Smartass”—then heads out.

Jeez, the guy is seriously over protective.

I drop open the oven door and grab hot pads to pull out the bubbly lasagna. As I move to stretch over the oven door and place the lasagna on the stovetop, my lower back cramps. The dish drops hard to the burner, making a loud noise.

“Ass-ole?”

“I’m okay, Jack.” I bend over slowly and pull the oven door closed then rub the monster back spasm that seems to wrap around to my front.

I cut out a square of the cheesy, veggified goodness and take it out to the living room. Setting my dinner down on the side table, I dread asking the question I already know the answer to. “What do you want to watch, Jack?” It’s seven o’clock, which is his bedtime. Whatever we put on, he’ll fall asleep watching, so at least I won’t be subject to too much torture.

“Cars!” He holds up a toy car and smiles with his little white teeth. He mumbles something then makes car sounds as he comes to me in his one-piece pj’s with the words, “I’d Flex, but I Like this Onesie” written on the front.

Crawling up onto the couch, he snuggles up to my side as I queue up his favorite video. He smells like baby soap and that naturally mouthwatering scent that babies have. I hit “play” and wrap an arm around him then shovel a bite of Blake’s lasagna into my mouth. Damn, the man can seriously cook.

I shift to try to get more comfortable, my back still spasming, until I find a position that buys me some relief.

Less than twenty minutes into the movie, I’m staring at an empty plate and a sleeping little boy. I slip out from under him and take my plate to the kitchen to rinse when my cell vibrates in my pocket.

I pull it out and it’s Ryder’s name on the caller ID. I peek in on Jack, who is gone to the world, so I hit “accept” and drop onto a stool in the kitchen.

“Hey, Ryder.”

“Hey.” He sounds a little bugged.

Shit, I should’ve probably warned him Brynn would come sniffing around looking for Killian’s contact info.

“Crap, you’re calling about Brynn.” I rub my forehead. “I meant to warn you she’d be—”

“Brynn? What about her?”