I fight the urge to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze until she shuts the fuck up permanently.
I’m allowed to talk shit about my brother. Not her.
As if sensing I’m about to lose my composure, she holds up her hands and exclaims, “I’m just saying, it’s pretty crappy how he has all this money and never once offered to give his own brother a dime of it. He’s a greedy bastard.”
She reaches across the table for my hand, but I yank mine back and change the subject. “How’s school going?”
Guilt colors her features and she averts her gaze. “Fine.”
A snarl works its way up my throat. “Becca.”
I’m footing the bill for her to attend beauty school in hopes she’ll have a steady job to support herself and her son.
Which means she better not fuck it up.
“I was sick last week and missed a few days.” She chews her bottom lip. “But don’t worry. They said I can still make up the hours before I graduate this summer.”
I open my mouth to offer to babysit while she does, but the waitress arrives with Jameson’s pancakes.
He makes no move to eat them which only frustrates Becca. “Eat your food.”
Wary, he peers up at me.
Realizing what he wants, I pick up my fork and take a bite. Unlike the nuggets, they taste fine.
“All good.”
Visibly pleased with the news, he grabs the fork out of my hand and takes a small bite. Then another.
I relax against the booth. Crisis averted.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Becca announces, getting up from the table.
After she’s gone, Jameson cocks his head.
It’s so faint, I almost don’t hear it.
“Hi.”
I’ve done a shit ton of various drugs over the years, but nothing compares to the high of when he talks to me.
Except her.
“Hey, bud.”
“Mama.” His brows furrow and I can tell he’s struggling with his next word. “Mad.”
Fucking hell.
“Not with you,” I assure him. “She’s just…worried.”
I can tell he doesn’t understand what I’m saying and that only makes me feel worse.
He makes grabby hands for me, so I pick him up and place him on my lap.
“She wants you to talk to her like you talk to me.” I kiss the top of his blond head. “But you don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t feel like it, okay?”
I make a mental note to convince Becca to put the so-called specialist on the back burner because I don’t think forcing him to speak to a stranger when he isn’t ready will help matters.
Besides, he was a preemie which—according to my research—means he’ll be a little behind when it comes to certain things.
He’ll catch up, though.
But even if he doesn’t…we’ll deal with it.
When I look up, I see Becca approaching the table, her red talons typing a mile a minute across her phone screen.
A second later, Jameson starts wheezing.
He’s healthy, which is a miracle considering how early he was born, but he does struggle with a severe case of asthma.
“Becca.”
I need her to stop texting and give me his inhaler.
“Shit.” She finally places her phone down and digs through her purse, her eyes wide with panic. “Fuck.”
“You don’t have it?”
It takes everything in me not to reach over and throttle her.
“I do.” She looks around the diner as if it will magically appear. “Somewhere.”
I can feel my blood pressure rising with every labored breath Jameson takes. Swiftly, I reach into my wallet and toss some money on the table.
Her apartment is only ten minutes away, but ten minutes feels like a goddamn eternity when a kid can’t breathe.
“Move,” I bark to some man trying to enter the diner as I’m walking out to the parking lot.
“Give me your keys,” I grunt behind me when I reach Becca’s car.
I’m strapping Jameson into his car seat when the mask he uses for his inhaler catches my eye. Fortunately, I spot the inhaler along with the spacer on the floor of the back seat next.
Relief washes over me as I place the mask over his mouth and press down on the canister.
“Good job, JP.”
“I told you I had it,” Becca says behind me.
Only because I made sure to put an extra one in her car a few weeks ago.
After I’m sure Jameson is able to breathe again, I turn to face her.
“You’re supposed to keep one in your purse at all times.”
I know it’s not my place to tell her how to be a parent, but this isn’t the first time she’s forgotten his inhaler while we were out.
My anger rises. Maybe if I show her what it’s like to not be able to breathe for a few minutes, she’ll finally get it through her thick fucking skull.
“Jesus Christ,” she yells. “It’s not like I intentionally forgot it.”
I cross my arms and stare her down. “Fascinating how you still have your phone.”
Her eyes narrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You would never leave your apartment without your precious phone, yet you somehow managed to leave behind the one fucking thing that could save your kid’s life.”
“Seriously?” She rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. I’m doing the best I can here.”
Her best isn’t good enough. Not when it comes to Jameson.
When I make no move to agree with her, her expression turns furious. “In case you forgot, you’re not his father, Preston.”
Her words are like a bullet straight to the fucking heart.
Because she’s right. I have no claim to him.
I’m just a guy who would do and give up anything in order to keep him safe, happy, and protected.
I’ve tried to convince myself to walk away from the bullshit because even though he’s worth it…Becca isn’t.
But every time I attempt to…I can’t.
I hit her with a bullet of my own. “In case you forgot, you’d be living in an alley somewhere begging for scraps if it wasn’t for me.”
I don’t feel bad throwing what I do in her face, because I don’t do it for her.
I do it for him.
Her gaze falls on Jameson who’s playing with his new dragon, oblivious to the argument we’re having. “I wouldn’t be.”
I don’t like the eerie tone of her voice or what it implies. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I grab her arm when she tries to open the car door. “What the fuck does that mean, Becca?”
“You’re hurting me.”
She’s hurting him.
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Her eyes close. “It’s just…it’s not easy being a single mom.”
A deaf man can hear what she’s really inferring.
“Not this shit ag—”
“If you actually cared about us and wanted the best for Jameson, you’d give me another chance.” Her eyes turn glassy. “I could make you happy, Preston.” Her voice cracks. “We could make you happy.”