The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan (17 page)

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead.

“Your fucking dick’s going to rot off if you put it inside her. But what do I care? It’s your dick.”

A kid in a football helmet and pads ran up to Roy. “Yeah, coach?”

“These people want to t
alk to you,” Roy said before jogging away blowing his whistle.

The teenager pulled the chinstrap and eased the
helmet over his ears. His dark hair, matted with sweat, stuck out at odd angles.

“Why don’t we go sit in the stands,” Declan said releasing Nyxie. “We want to talk to you about what happened with Cody Carmichael.”

“Who?”

Both Nyxie and Declan swung their heads around to stare at the boy.

“The kid you hit.”

The teenager paled visibly. “Is that his name? I didn’t know. There was so
much shit happening all at once if anyone told me his name I didn’t catch it. I’ve been trying to find out if he is okay—you know, watching the news to see if they’d say anything. But I didn’t hear anything since the second day. Do you know how he is?”

Declan touched the aluminum seat before letting Nyxie sit down. He turned sideways on the bleacher to face the younger man.

“It’s too soon to say,” he said refusing to capitulate to his father’s wishes to tell the boy what he wanted to hear. He’s still in a coma, lots of broken bones. He has internal injuries and lost his spleen.” Declan intentionally kept his voice emotionless wanting to see Jonah’s reaction.

The boy planted his face in his hands and began sobbing. “I didn’t mean to hit him. God, I can’t erase his face from my mind. I was going to be late for practice and Coach is such an asshole if we’re late and I couldn’t find that stupid address. I turned the corner and he was right there. If I’d had another ten feet, I could’ve stopped. Oh, shit. You’re not cops, are you? My dad said not to talk to cops without him with me.”

Declan held up his hands in a dismissive half-shrug.

“I’m sorry; I should’ve told you who we are. We’re not cops. This is Cody’s sister, Onyx and
I’m Coach’s son, Declan Stryker, and I’m also one of Cody’s doctors.”

Normally, introducing himself to one of his dad’s players elev
ated Declan to celebrity status but Jonah only had eyes for Nyxie.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, more sorry than I’ve ever been for anything in my life. I truly mean that. I want
ed to visit him in the hospital but my parents thought I’d probably be unwelcome.”

“He’s not allowed to have anyone but family visiting him while he’s in intensive care,” she said remembering what Rachel said when Mrs. North visited. She almost wanted him to see Cody, to s
ee what he had done with his reckless driving. “He wouldn’t know you’ve been there. He doesn’t know I’ve been there.”

Declan reached for Nyxie’s phone and pulled up a picture of Cody, his face still unrecognizable, his leg in traction, a pillow under his broken arm, his misshapen, half-shaven head barely visible behind the respirator.

As Jonah stared at the image, Nyxie fished in her purse for the other picture. It was a photo of Cody at the science museum in Lubbock. His teacher snapped the picture while Cody stood on a small platform inside a wading pool and two people lifted a hula hoop incasing him in a giant bubble. His eyes were wide as he laughed. Back then, back before their father died, Cody rarely laughed, and that was one reason she cherished the picture as much as she did. Nyxie had carefully folded the full-size photo so the image of Cody had no creases going through him.

The teenager was crying again and so was Nyxie.

“He’s a good kid,” she said sniffling. “He’s responsible and smart. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“No, ma’am. If there’s anything I can do to help—get his homework assignments when school starts or drive him to therapy—I’d be happy to help.”

“That’s nice of you, but that’s so far down the road….”

“Onyx is moving to Lubbock to be closer to the hospital. We could probably use an extra set of hands and a pickup.”

“Sure, sure,” he said eagerly. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Give me your phone number and we’ll call you.”

Declan spared a quick glance at Nyxie and knew she wasn’t about to let him help. But neither was he. Declan took his number and programmed it into his phone.

“Well, thanks. We just wanted to know what happened,” Declan said. “You weren’t using your phone at the time, were you?”

“Oh no, sir. I promise. I better get back to practice. Ma’am, when he wakes up, tell him every touchdown I get this season is dedicated to him.”

Nyxie resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but realized to the boy, it was probably the kind of grandiose gesture he’d once seen in a made-for-TV movie.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

He handed the picture and phone back to Nyxie and ran back to the field pulling the silver helmet onto his head.

“I don’t want that kid in my house moving our things and I’m certainly never letting Cody into his pickup to go to therapy.” Nyxie said when the boy was gone.

Declan shook his head. “I got his phone number to give to the lawyer so he can get his phone records. For now, we'll just have Junior sit on the information, but it’ll help get Cody a good settlement from the insurance company—hopefully, enough to pay for college after everything is paid off.”

17

Declan walked Nyxie out to the parking lot without a backward glance at his Dad. Before he started the car, he turned to her ready to apologize.

“Sir, you are no more responsible for your father’s behavior than I was for mine. I think Coach Stryker was a big part of why I was afraid of you in school. I thought you must be like him.”

Declan started the Jeep and put it into gear. “I’m too much like him—too much like both my parents. My mother is just like my father except less facial hair and bigger breasts.”

Nyxie laughed. “And hopefully no
cojones
.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’d be afraid to look.”

As they drove, the houses became larger and the lots bigger and Declan pulled into a one-story modern ranch-style house with a circle drive and manicured landscaping.

“This driveway is my favorite feature of the whole house—it’s great for quick getaways.”

“Surely, she’s not that bad.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “No,” he said shaking his head. “She’s okay.”

When Nyxie looked at the house, she saw his mother standing in the doorway, looking at them, waiting.

As always, Nyxie waited for Declan to open her car door. “Maybe I should wait in the car,” she said as he took her hand and helped her out.

“No way I’m going in there alone,” he laughed. “Who’ll protect me?”

He laced his fingers through hers and led her to the porch.

“Hi, Major,” Declan said as he gave her a one armed hug. “This is my friend, Nyxie. Nyxie, this is my mother, Major Dorothea Stryker, retired.”

His mother’s hand shot out in a masculine gesture and De
clan lifted his hand to show Nyxie’s right hand clasped in his.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nyxie said with an apologetic tone when he refused to release her hand.

“Come in out of the heat,” his mother said. She led them into a formal living room and Nyxie was quick to note how sterilely clean and tidy the room appeared and she suspected the whole house would be the same. The air was every bit as crisp and clean as the hospital’s and had a faint odor of pine cleaner and Dove soap—very old lady-ish, she thought.

But his mother was not. Although she appeared to be in her early sixties, there was nothing about her that appeared aging. She wore a straight yellow skirt that stopped above her knees. It was made of linen and had a casual but expensive look about it. She wore it with a white sleeveless blouse that showed her toned arms. Her brown hair was stylishly cut into a short modern wedge and highlighted to camouflage the gray. Her white leather sandals revealed her pale pink pedicured toes which matched her manicured fingers.

“Please, have a seat.”

Declan maneuvered her to the end of a sofa and sat down with his side flush to hers.

“Good grief, son. If you were sitting any closer, you be sitting on top of her.”

“I’m cold natured,” Nyxie said in his defense.

“You should wear heavier clothes.”

Nyxie looked pointedly at Declan. “Yes, I should.”

“I like what you have on,” he said squeezing her hand. “That’s why I suggested you wear it.”

Dorothea unconsciously frowned at Nyxie then cast a deeper frown at her son. A moment later, she smiled politely. “Would everyone like some iced tea? I was just making it when I saw you pull up.”

“Sure, Major, but we’re only staying a few minutes.”

“Declan, darling, why don’t you come help me. My hands aren’t as nimble as they used to be.”

With a gleam of mischief, knowing his mother’s reaction beforehand, Declan said, “Nyxie would love to help. She’s a waitress. I bet she can teach you all sorts of tricks.”

Nyxie began to rise. “I’d be happy to help.”

Declan tightened his arm to keep her from getting up.

“No, you’re a guest. You might be interested in looking at the pictures on the piano while I borrow my son.”

Dorothea stayed quiet all the way into the other room, but turned on her son the moment her feet hit the tiled floor of the kitchen.

Knowing the only way to shorten the vis-à-vis with his mother was to complete the task at hand as quickly as possible; Declan immediately crossed the kitchen and pulled three tall glasses out of the cabinet.

“So, is something wrong with your passenger door?”

“For God’s sake, Major, what’s wrong with a man opening a car door for a woman?”

“Ever hear of Women’s Lib?”

He held each glass under the ice dispenser in the fridge door. “Yeah, that’s where a bunch of hairy-legged men-haters got together and burned their bras for the right to call men chauvinist pigs and wave their bitchiness around like flags under the guise of PMS.”

Dorothea’s brow would have creased if it had not so recently been Botoxed. “You have no clue.”

“Is it so wrong she lets me wear the pants and be the man in the relationship?”

She didn’t answer. “Don’t get me wrong, son, I can see a certain appeal in her. I’m sure you like the way…well, uh, the way she’s out of uniform,” she said motioning toward her own breasts. “You know Victoria’s Secret has those nice push up bras. I hear they even do wonders for tiny boobies like hers.”

“Ew. Major, were you checking out Nyxie’s breasts? Christ, when are you going to admit you’re either a lesbian or a man?”

“When you admit you think you’re too good to fight for your country.”

Declan placed the last glass down on the counter harder than he intended. “I’ve already done all the sacrificing I’m going to. I gave up having a normal relationship with my parents. You gave me away to Grams and Gramps and then rip
ped me from the only home I’d ever known when you retired. It killed them when you took me away.”

Dorothea crossed her arms over her chest. “Stop being dramatic. You were my kid, not theirs. I had every right to take you.”

“I barely knew you,” he said raising his voice, even as he rehashed the same argument they’d had for years.

“Get over it, Declan. You’d think all that money you inherited from them was salve enough to get past it.”

Declan laughed a harsh, cruel sound. “Oh, my God, you are still pissed they left me their money while they only left you a hundred dollars. You know why they did that? So I could be my own man—out from under my parents’ thumbs.”

She took the pitcher and poured the tea into the glasses. “It was the stupidest thing they could possibly do. It gave you this false sense of superiority, but when it’s all gone, you’re going to find out about the real world. How much money is left, Declan?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“That little?”

“Look, maybe we should just go. I wasn’t planning to stop by today to see either of you. I’ll be lucky if Nyxie doesn’t run for the hills after the way Coach treated her.”

His mother put her hand on his arm. “Don’t go. I hardly ever get to see you. I want to get to know your girlfriend better. She’s not exactly the kind of girl I pictured you dating. Are you sure she’s our kind of people?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s my kind of people,” he said with irritation.

His mother softened her accusing tone. “How long have you known this girl?”

“Not long,” he said.

“You be careful with her. She’s just the kind of girl who gets pregnant on purpose to trap someone like you.”

He stared at the glasses as a slow smile crept up and crossed his features. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about putting holes in all my condoms to trap her.”