Read Rooter (Double H Romance) Online
Authors: Teiran Smith
My eyes open at ten minutes to seven in the morning. I’m lying on my stomach and Rooter’s arm is draped across my back. His light snores bring a smile to my lips. Dopey stares at me with his head on the side of the bed and wags his tail. He needs to go out. I reach out and pet his head. Rooter’s arm pulls me snug against him.
“Go back to sleep, babe,” he mumbles. “I’m not going in until later.”
“Dopey wants out.”
Rooter groans with displeasure. “Of course he does.”
“I can take him,” I offer.
Rooter kisses the back of my head. “I got it,” he says and gets up. “Go back to sleep.”
My cramps remind me of last night’s events. Not that I’d forgotten. While I’m not quite as mortified as I was, I’m still a little embarrassed. I can’t believe Rooter acted like it was no big deal.
Through the window, I hear Rooter and Bear’s voices from the driveway, but can’t make out what they’re saying. After a couple minutes Bear fires up his Harley and rides away. Shortly thereafter, Rooter appears in the bedroom doorway, stretches his arms over his head and yawns.
“There’s a problem at the shop.” He walks to his chest of drawers and removes a pair of boxers and a dark gray t-shirt. “I’m going to grab a quick shower and head over there. You can stay here and sleep.”
I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go on home. I have a lot to do today before work anyway.”
“Okay.” He walks over and leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you when you get home from work.”
I look at his face trying to decipher whether he’s thinking about last night. Is he really okay with it, or was he as grossed out as I was? As I still am? Honestly, I hope he forgets about it altogether. However, the fact I know I’ll never be able to forget it means he probably won’t be able to either.
“And stop freaking out about last night,” he says as though he’s reading my mind.
I look up and smile at him sheepishly.
When I enter the house, I hear the water running in the bathroom upstairs. Eager to find out how Miranda’s two nights with Bear went, I sprint up the stairs and knock on the bathroom door before letting myself in.
“Hey,” I say and sit on the toilet lid.
“How was dinner with the rents?” Rents is our word for parents.
“It was good.” I smile giddily and clasp my hands together. “How was your second night with Bear?”
She pokes her head out again and mouths, “Oh. My. God.” She rolls her eyes back in her head emphasizing how good it was.
I laugh. “That good, huh?”
She shuts the water off and yanks the towel from the curtain rod. “We haven’t even had actual sex and I’ve had more orgasms these past two days than I had the entire time I was with Chris.”
“Two nights together and no sex?” Miranda isn’t one to give it up easily, but being she spent two nights with the guy, I assumed it’d happened.
“Just about everything but,” she giggles and opens the shower curtain. “I wasn’t aware women could actually come from cunnilingus.”
My eyes go wide. It’s just like her to use that word rather than saying oral sex. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Two nights and still nothing?” She asks and drags her brush through her wet hair.
I proceed to tell her everything that’s happened over the course of the last two days. When I’m finished, she’s left standing with her mouth hanging open.
“That sucks, but periods aren’t a big deal to some guys. It never stopped Chris.”
“What?” I ask, disgusted. “You had sex on your period?”
She shrugs and goes back to fixing her hair. “Yeah.”
I blanch. “That’s gross!”
“It’s only a little blood.”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
Miranda laughs and runs the flat iron over her already straight hair. I’ve never understood why she does this. It looks exactly the same after she irons it as it did before.
“So tell me more about you and Scary Beary.”
“He’s so freaking amazing, Soph,” she says and grips the closet doorway to stay upright while she slides on a pair of black heels. “We talk for hours. He’s such a good listener, and so funny. And he’s unbelievably sweet.”
“He seems like a good guy,” I admit.
“You have no idea.” She pulls me into an embrace. “And I have you to thank for meeting him.”
It’s pouring rain when Ryan and I leave the Grand later that night. I make it halfway to my car when I come to an abrupt halt and gasp. I blink to make sure what I’m seeing is real.
“What the hell?” I say and sprint to my driver’s side door. All four of my tires are slashed and the words whore, slut, bitch, and cunt have been carved into the door. I call Rooter immediately.
“Babe?” He answers on the first ring.
“My tires have been slashed.” I stand in the rain utterly drenched, staring at my vandalized car. My entire body shakes from shock and anger.
“I’m on my way,” he says. “Can Ryan wait with you until I get there?”
“Yeah.”
Candace is the first person who comes to mind. If it had only been the tires I might’ve thought it was Mike, but the only person with the motive to key those specific words on my car is her. Ryan grabs me by my shoulders and leads me to his car. He opens the passenger door and helps me inside.
After what seems like eons, Rooter’s truck pulls into the parking lot. He parks on the driver’s side of my car and gets out to inspect the damage. I jump out of Ryan’s car and dart over to him.
“That bitch did this,” I say to him.
“Who, Candace?” He asks, staring at the curse words on the side of my car.
“Yeah.” I stand with my hands on my hips.
He shakes his head.
“Why are you shaking your head?” I wave my hand at the words on my door. “This is her!”
“Get in the truck,” he orders, irritated.
What’s up his ass?
“I should say goodbye to Ryan.”
Rooter waves at Ryan from where we’re standing and pulls me toward his truck. He opens the passenger door and helps me up.
“This was Mike,” he says when he gets in and backs the truck out of the parking space.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. It was that bitch. I know it.”
Rooter exhales sharply and pulls out of the parking lot. “Candace doesn’t know where you work.”
I give him my best are you serious face. “She could’ve followed me.”
“Sophie, I realize you hate her,” his voice escalates with each word, “but I’m telling you she did not do this.”
“Why are you always defending her?” I shout.
“I do not always defend her!” He yells back. “But right now I am because I
know
she didn’t do it.”
The way he says the word “know” catches my attention. I jerk my entire body in his direction. “How do you know?”
He clenches his jaw and squeezes the steering wheel with a death grip. “Sophie, Mike did this. Plain and simple.”
“Tell me how you know!” I demand.
His nostrils flare and he punches the steering wheel. He makes a hard right into a fast food restaurant parking lot and slams his foot on the brake bringing us to an abrupt stop. Because I’m not wearing a seatbelt my shoulder slams into the dash. It hurts like hell, but I’m not injured.
“What the hell?” I ask, rubbing my shoulder.
Rooter turns and looks at me like he’s going to say something, but changes his mind. He takes my hand into his and grips it tightly. In his eyes is a level of intensity I’ve never seen. Not when he attacked Mike for hitting Miranda, and not even when those thugs broke into my house. I can literally feel the anger rolling off of him. Something is wrong. Something other than my slashed tires.
“Rooter, what’s going on?”
He looks away from me to the windshield, still gripping my hand. When he speaks, he sounds defeated. “This entire day has been completely fucked up. I might as well make it a little bit worse.”
His words trigger fear within me. Whatever he’s about to say isn’t good.
“What is it?”
He makes a steeple with this fingers covering his nose and takes a deep breath. “The reason I know Candace isn’t the one who vandalized your car is because I was with her.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying desperately to keep my emotions under control. I trust Rooter. If he was with her, he must’ve had a good reason. “Why were you with her?” I ask and open my eyes.
He turns to me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. He reaches out, strokes my cheek and swallows. “She texted me earlier this evening. Said we needed to talk. I told her to forget it. That I wasn’t playing any more games with her.”
He turns back to the windshield, leans his head against the headrest and closes his eyes. I almost tell him to stop; that I don’t want him to tell me what happened. I can sense that whatever he’s getting ready to say will crush me. Crush us.
“She texted me a picture,” he shakes his head and exhales, “of a positive pregnancy test.”
My mouth drops to the floor. All the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs and I begin to hyperventilate. I shake my head furiously.
This is not happening.
“I went over there to call her out on more bullshit,” he continues, “so she took another test. It was positive.”
“You’re sure it’s yours?”
“I can’t be sure without a DNA test,” he rubs the back of his neck, “but there was one time… the condom broke.”
I gasp. I want to punch something. Anything. So I lunge at Rooter and wail on his face and his chest. “How can you be so goddamn stupid?”
Rooter grabs a hold of my hands and pushes me back against the passenger door. He glares at me with wild eyes. “You’re right. I am stupid. Sophie, I’m so sorry.”
I’m tired of hearing him say he’s sorry.
“Take me home,” I snarl and push him away.
The truck has barely come to a stop and I throw the door open and jump out into Rooter’s driveway. He runs after me and catches up to me before I make it to my door.
“Sophie, please talk to me.”
“I can’t. Not right now.” I need to get away from him so I can think. “Like you said, this day has been completely fucked up and all I want to do right now is sleep. Alone.”
“I know you’re mad—” I cut him off.
“Mad?” I scream and spin around to face him. “What I am goes way beyond mad, Rooter! There is no word in any language that can describe what I’m feeling right now!”
“I’m not comfortable leaving you alone knowing it was Mike who slashed your tires.”
I stomp up the front porch stairs. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t staying here tonight.”
Rooter hurries past me and barricades the door. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Who knows what that whacked out fuck is liable to try next.”
“Then send Bear over, because you’re not stepping one foot into this house.”
Rooter appears to consider my words. “Promise me you’ll talk to me tomorrow and I’ll leave.”
I roll my eyes and grip my keys so tightly it hurts. When I speak, it’s through gritted teeth. “We’ll talk when I’m ready and not before then.”
“Tell me we’ll talk tomorrow or I’m not leaving.” He crosses his arms in defiance, but the panicked expression he’s wearing tells me he’s anything but confident right now.
I’m getting dangerously close to kneeing him square in the balls. “If you don’t leave, I may never speak to you again.”
“Tell me you’ll talk to me tomorrow,” he demands.
I ball my hands into fists and shout. “Fine! Just leave!”
“Say you promise we’ll talk tomorrow.”
I purse my lips and close my eyes. “I promise to talk to you tomorrow.”
Rooter steps away from the door and waits while I unlock it. When I step over the threshold, he reaches out and takes my hand. “Good night, Sophie.”
The moment I close the door behind me, every emotion I’m feeling hits me all at once and I sob. I run as fast as I can into Miranda’s room and throw myself onto her bed.
“Sophie,” she says, startled, and turns on her lamp. “What happened?”
“Can-dace is preg-nant,” I choke through my sobs.
Chapter 31
Complications & Arguments
I cry myself to sleep that night. When I dream, it’s of him; him and me, and him and Candace, and him and his baby. Him. Him. Him.
When I wake up, he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the door. I jolt upright.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to see you.” I feel bad the instant I say it. His being here is actually kind of comforting, but it also irritates me. I need time to process everything. It’s just like him not to give me space.
Rooter gets up from the floor and crouches before me. It comes to my attention he’s in the same clothes from last night. Then again, so am I. I was simply too exhausted to bother with changing.
“How long have you been here?” I ask and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
“I came in about three thirty.”
I check the clock. “You’ve been here for six hours?”
Now that I take a good look at him, it’s evident he hasn’t slept. The skin beneath his eyes is dark and puffy. He looks haggard. Even haggard, he looks perfect. But this is exactly the kind of thought I can’t afford right now. I shake my head to try to clear my mind. It doesn’t matter how attracted I am to him. It doesn’t matter how I feel about him. We have a huge, possibly insurmountable problem.
When he speaks, it as though he can read my mind. “I realize this situation isn’t ideal. It’s not what you wanted. But we can get through it.”
“I’m not sure we can.”
He lists forward, panicked, and takes my face into his hands. “Don’t say that.”
I pull away and scoot to the headboard. “You’re having a kid. With Candace. How can you expect me to get past that?”
Rooter reaches out for me but I glare at him warning him not to touch me. He clasps his hands behind his head. “I realize I’m asking a lot of you, babe, but please…” He appears desperate. “I need you. I can’t do this on my own.”
He needs me? To do what exactly? Hold his hand? Tell him everything will be okay? Help him raise his kid? I’m not sure I can do those things. I don’t want to do those things.
When I got into this relationship, I didn’t sign up for a slutty, pregnant ex-whatever and I sure as hell didn’t sign up for a kid. I’m twenty one freaking years old. I still have another year of college. I want to make a life for myself. I’d hoped Rooter would be a part of my future. But in that future, I don’t see Candace and their kid.
“You’re not on your own. You have
Candace.
” I remark, snidely.
He shakes his head vehemently. His shoulders are tense and the vein in his forehead protrudes. “She’s the last fucking thing I want or need.”
You should have thought about that before you put your dick in her.
That’s what I want to say, but don’t. “Well, that’s too bad because you’re stuck with her for the rest of your life.”
“Fuck!” He punches my mattress. “What have I done?”
His distress makes me want to reach out for him and comfort him. But I, too, am distraught. I can’t tell him everything will be okay or that we’ll work this out because I don’t know that it will be okay or if we will work it out. Yes, one way or the other, it will all work out, but not necessarily in the way he or I would hope. I’m very well versed in the harsh realities of life. In my experience, I’d say he’ll go on, become a father, and in a year’s time—give or take—our relationship will be a distant memory. I’ll be a distant memory.
But on the flip side, as angry as I am about the situation, my feelings for him haven’t changed. And that’s what makes this so damn hard.
“I need time to figure out if this is something I can do.” I push myself off of the mattress and go to my dresser. The reflection in the mirror can’t possibly be mine. The girl before me looks as though she’s aged ten years overnight. Her eyes are swollen and face is splotchy. “You’re not just asking me to deal with Candace now. You’re asking me to deal with you having a kid.”
Through the mirror, I see the muscles in his face tighten. “It doesn’t have to change us.”
“But it does change us.” I spin around to face him. “It changes you.”
Can he really not see that?
Rooter explodes off of the bed and saunters to me, his face is red. “So that’s it? You’re done?”
“I—I didn’t say that.”
“It sure as hell sounds like it.”
“I…” I look to the floor unable to face him. “I just need some time.”
“If this was happening to you,” he tilts my chin up to face him, “I wouldn’t bolt. I’d stick by you.”
I furrow my brow and hold my hand to my chest. “Are you seriously trying to make me feel guilty?”
“I’m just telling it like it is. I thought you were stronger than this.”
“Don’t you understand?” Tears threaten to spill down my face. “I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of being let down and left out.”
Rooter’s eyes bore into mine. “Sophie, I didn’t do this to you. I did this before you. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” He turns his back to me and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m not letting you down or leaving you out of anything. But if you walk away that’s exactly what you’ll be doing to me.”
Without looking back, he opens my bedroom door and leaves me alone in my room. A few seconds later the front door slams shut.
Ten minutes later I’m still in my room reeling from our conversation when he texts me.
Rooter:
I had ur car towed to Molly’s Auto for repairs. I can take u to work later, or u can drive my truck. Let me know.
This is why I’m so crazy about him. Even though we’re fighting, even though we may never get past this, he’s still taking care of me. I text him back.
Me:
Thank you for helping me. I’m not going to work today.
I literally just decided not to go to work when I read his text. I can’t go. I’m completely spent mentally and emotionally. Randy is better off without me today. Tuesdays are a light day anyway so it shouldn’t be a big deal. After pressing send, I call Randy to inform him I won’t be coming in. While I’m talking to Randy, Rooter texts me again. After I hang up, I read the text.
Rooter:
I’ll be here all day if u need anything or need to go anywhere. Or if u want to talk.
Rooter is sitting in his house, not thirty yards away, and we’re texting. Texting! I stare at my phone and debate whether I should call or text. I decide to text.
Me:
I don’t want to fight. Please don’t be mad at me.
Four seconds after pressing send my phone rings. It’s him.
“Hey,” I answer on the third ring.
“I’m not mad at you, babe,” his voice is soft and kind. “I’m just mad in general. Mad at myself. And I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you. Of having a kid I didn’t plan for with a girl I don’t want to have it with.”
The vulnerability in his voice tugs at my heart. I can hear his fear. He really needs me. I know what it’s like to be let down by those I’ve needed when I needed them most. I can’t do that to him. Like he said, he didn’t do this to me. It’s simply an unfortunate circumstance; even if it was brought on by poor decision making on his behalf. We all make mistakes. He doesn’t deserve to be persecuted for his. What would it say about me if I was to tuck tail and run? The least I can do is try.
“I can’t promise you anything, Rooter, but I’m willing to take things day by day.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. We’re both quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “Is it all right if I come over?”
It’s strange to hear him ask to come to my house. “Yeah.”
“Good, because I’m in your living room,” he chuckles, but it’s not an entirely happy sound.
Now that’s just like him. How did I not hear him come in? “I’ll be right down.”
I examine my appearance in the mirror again though I don’t know why. I look exactly the same as I did last time I checked. Like hell.
When I reach the top of the stairs, Rooter is standing at the bottom with his hands in his pockets. When he sees me, his lips curl into the slightest of a smile. I return the gesture.
I stop and stand on the last step making us almost the same height. He takes one hand from his pocket and hooks a finger through my belt loop to pull me against him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck and inhales. I drape my arms around his neck and breathe a sigh of relief at his nearness, swathed in a quiet calm. We stand in complete silence and hold one another for several minutes. Eventually he reaches for my hand and leads me to the sofa.
“I hate to bring this up, but we still have the issue of your car to deal with.”
I pull my eyebrows together, confused. “You said it was at Molly’s.”
He strokes the top of my hand with his thumb. His voice is quiet and soothing. “I’m talking about Mike. He needs to be dealt with.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. Fucking Mike. Since it wasn’t Candace, I must assume it was him. “What do you think we should do?”
He shakes his head. “
We
aren’t going to do anything.
I
will handle it.”
There’s a picture of Mike—the old Mike from high school—on the wall. He’s wearing his football Jersey, throwing a football during practice. Next to his picture is a photo of him and Miranda posing together the night of her Senior Prom. She didn’t have a date, so he escorted her. Those were much happier times for the both of them.
“Rooter, he’s Miranda’s brother. I need to know what you plan on doing.”
“He may be Miranda’s brother, but you’re my girl and by fucking with you, he fucked with me. He’s going to pay for it.”
Hearing him speak so possessively makes my heart flutter. I am his. Completely. And we both know it. It’s either going to work for me or against me.
“Pay how?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
His jaw is set and there’s an evil glint in his eyes. “I’m going to show him what happens when he messes with me.”
“Rooter, I realize you’re used to handling these situations a certain way,” I reach out and take his hand, “but we have to be careful here. You need to keep Miranda in mind.”
“Why? He wasn’t keeping her in mind when he did this.”
“Because she’s my best friend. Mike is the only family she has left.” I point at the pictures on the wall. “It would kill her if something happened to him.”
“It’s not like I’m going to kill him,” Rooter sighs. “I’m just going to… Temporarily limit the use of his hands.”
“Rooter—” I start but puts his index finger against my lips and cuts me off.
“If we ignore this, the next thing he does will be much worse. I’m not willing to take that risk.”
“Can’t you just talk to him or something?”
Rooter shakes his head. “I’ve tried that. The only way I’ll get through to him is by paying him a visit.”
“We don’t know where he is.”
“That’s why I need his cell phone number.”
If Mike is the culprit, and he probably is, I want him to pay for what he’s done. But I’m not sure if exacting the kind of revenge Rooter is known for is worth the pain it would cause Miranda. “If Miranda finds out I had anything to do with Mike getting hurt, including giving you his phone number, she’ll hate me forever.”
“You don’t have to give it to me. Where’s your phone?”
I wave toward the stairs. “It’s in my purse in my room.”
Rooter gets up and sprints up the stairs. Thirty seconds later he appears before me with a scowl and a clenched jaw. His eyes are narrowed at the screen of my phone. He looks at me with a glint of anger in his eyes then looks back at the phone. His hands are shaking. He chucks the phone at me angrily, though not so hard as to hurt me, and hits me square in the chest.
“What the fuck is that?” He growls.
I look at the screen. There’s a text from Hayden:
Hey beautiful. I’m thinking about you
.
The first thought that comes to my mind is that Rooter knows my passcode. How the hell did he get it? I’ve never given it to him. But I don’t dare ask while he’s in his current state of mind. That’s a conversation for another time. Besides, I don’t have anything to hide.
I shrug in response to his question because I honestly don’t know why Hayden is texting me after all this time. And I don’t care. Frankly, it’s the last thing I’m worried about. I—we—have much bigger issues to deal with right now.
Rooter points at the phone in my hand, his nostrils flare. “Put an end to that, or I will and neither one of you will like the way I do it.”
I toss the phone on the coffee table and exhale harshly. “Rooter, it’s not a big deal. We went out once. It was nothing. He knows I have a boyfriend.”
My words do nothing to appease him. He’s just as agitated, perhaps more so. “Then remind him and make sure he doesn’t contact you again.”
I tilt my head to the side, not sure whether to be irritated or amused by his behavior. “Wait, so you’re telling me you’re pissed about a text from a guy I went on one date with and yet I’ll always have to deal with Candace?”