The Fighter's Secret Child (The Burton Brothers Series Book 3) (6 page)

Beck caught Chaz, but Rachel ran to his side and scooped him up. Pain shot up her arm, but she didn’t care. She stared at Beck, her breathing shallow and quick. “Don’t you get it, Beck? You could kill him!”

He stood up. She noticed the flicking of the TV and glanced at the screen. Fighters stood poised there, ready to do combat. Rachel turned on Beck. “What are you teaching him?”

“We were just having fun.”

“Fun? And how fun is it if he falls? Didn’t you hear me when I said he bruises easily?”

Chaz started to whimper. Rachel soothed a hand down the back of his head, but his whimper headed to a small cry—and he reached for Beck.

Beck opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. He dropped his voice low. “Now who has a temper out of control? You’re scaring our son.”

Our son.
The words hit her like one of those punches Chaz had been throwing. Numb, she let Beck take Chaz out of her arms. He put the boy down. Chaz grabbed Beck’s leg and turned his face into Beck’s sweatpants.

Rachel dragged a hand through her hair—her good hand. She cradled her bad one, which was throbbing now. “You’re right. I…I’m sorry. I reacted badly. But Beck, Chaz…his condition—”

“I know. I know. He’s got to take it easy. I get it, Rach. But you try to keep him in a bubble or wrap him up in cotton padding and you’re doing a different kind of damage to him. He’s never seen a video game before. As far as I can see, he doesn’t know much about playing at all. Does he have some building blocks? Have you ever had him on a trike even?”

Rachel pushed back her shoulders. She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t had money for more than clothes and very, very few toys. “How do you know what a boy his age needs?”

Mouth flat, Beck glanced down at Chaz. When he looked up, his voice pitched low and tight, he said, “Rachel, I may not have a lot of experience with kids his age, but I do know a thing or two about young kids. I teach at the dojo, too, you know.”

She caught a breath. She knew he was right, but she didn’t want to back down. If she started to give ground to him, where would it stop? He’d push her, the same way he pushed when he was fighting. He’d back her into a corner, and before she knew it, he’d be part of Chaz’s life, and not in a way she wanted.

Would that really be so bad?

The thought caught her off guard. She stared at Beck. He stood with one hand on top of Chaz’s head. Chaz did need a dad, but not one who was all attention and caring one minute and raging the next. She’d had that. She’d had the violence and then the deep sorrow for it—and back again. She wanted stability for Chaz. She wanted love for him. Could she ever get that from Beck?

She studied his eyes, and tried to see deep inside him. The smell of him—that musky scent—brought back all kinds of memories she would rather had stayed buried. How much they’d laughed in Fiji, how he’d taught her to snorkel and sail. How he’d bought her dinner, and fed her from his plate, and then had given her a pearl bracelet.

She’d tried to hang onto that, but she’d had to sell it to help pay the medical bills for Chaz. Now her arm was throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Tears stung her eyes. She just wanted Chaz to be well.

Sinking down on the couch, she put a hand over her eyes. She had to admit the truth. She wanted more than that. She found herself wishing she could turn back the clock and find that place where she and Beck had loved each other. When he reached out a hand and touched her cheek, she looked up at him.

He sat down next to her and cupped the back of her neck. Chaz turned from Beck and snuggled against her. Beck gave her a grin. “Looks like he forgives you. And I think what you both need is a good breakfast. How about pancakes?”

“You’re going to cook?”

“Hell, no. I’m going to buy. Mama’s pancake house. Now go get your things and get Chaz dressed while I grab a shower and some clothes.”

***

Beck had to struggle with the car seat. Finally, Rachel took it out of his hands and got it fastened in the jump seat of his truck. He was glad now that he had the extended cab. She’d put on some makeup and looked great—he had to keep fighting the urge to put his hands on her. But he kept telling himself she needed some space. She needed time. He was really bad with dealing with both of those things.

He drove them to the pancake house, parked in the back, and helped Rachel get Chaz out of the truck. She was cradling her arm again, and no wonder the way she kept using it. Taking Chaz from her, he told her, “You keep this up, that’s never going to heal.” She shot him a sideways glance, and he shook his head. “Trust me. I know about injuries and coming back from them. You’ve got to rest it. And have Alice take a look at it. She’s a natural with stuff like that. Her dad’s one of the best trainers in the MMA—or he was before his stroke. And that girl—she’s brought her dad back from a stroke that would have left any other guy in a nursing home.”

For a minute, he thought she’d go stubborn on him. But her shoulders slumped and she gave a nod. “I like Alice. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” He held the door for her and waited for someone to seat them. The hostess looked to be about sixteen and she gushed over Chaz, telling him, “You’ve got an adorable boy.”

Beck’s face heated. He didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut and followed the girl to a table in the back. She left and came back with a high chair for Chaz. Beck had no idea how to fit the boy into that—wasn’t he too old for that kind of thing?

Rachel got up to put it together, but Beck waved her back in her seat and put Chaz on the bench next to him. “Maybe you could just get us a booster chair,” he told the hostess.

She did and that worked for Beck. He also pulled over the crayons the restaurant provided for kids to draw on the paper placemats. And now he knew why this place offered those kinds of things. He’d never thought about having to entertain a kid while you ate.

Rachel kept trying to fuss, but Beck found out that Chaz liked the silverware and the salt and pepper shakers better than any crayons. “Not much of an artist is he?” he told Rachel after they’d ordered.

She wrapped her good hand around her coffee and left her hand in the brace on her lap. “Well, there was the one time he decided to use the spaghetti sauce to paint the bathroom.”

Beck let out a laugh. “Really? Sounds like me and Mason—we dumped Spaghetti-O’s down the slide to make it slicker.” A smile lifted the corner of Rachel’s mouth. He liked seeing it there, so he asked, “What else has this little monster gotten into?”

Getting her to talk about Chaz seemed to relax her. She talked about his first word—which had been dog, not mama or daddy—and his first step. Beck’s gut tightened. He hadn’t seen either of those things.

Anger flashed through him—Rachel had robbed him of those things by hiding his son from him. His hands tightened on his knife and fork. The stillness next to him pulled him back from the heat gathering in his chest. He glanced down at Chaz.

The kid had pancake syrup on his chin and worry in his eyes. Beck had to let out a smile. The kid looked on his way to being a mess. Glancing over at Rachel, he asked, “Okay, I give up on this one—how do you deal with this?” He waved his fork at Chaz. “I swear he keeps ending up wearing more food than he eats.”

Leaning over, Rachel wiped a thumb across Chaz’s cheek. “He really shouldn’t eat this much sugar. He’s going to be ready for a nap soon.”

Beck frowned. “Are you serious? Middle of the morning.”

She glanced at him and he saw the worry shadow her eyes. That did it. He was going to have to have a talk with her—and then do a search online about Chaz’s condition. What had she called it? Anemia of some kind? Aspastic? Aphasia? He couldn’t remember—but he was going to have to learn all about it and fast.

Putting down his silverware, he glanced over at Rachel. “If you’re done, we should get back. And once he’s sleeping, we’re going to have a talk. A long one.”

Chaz was already asleep by the time they got back to the Burton’s home. Beck pulled him out of the car seat and Rachel’s heart tightened. She looked away, but had to look back. Beck was so careful with him now, and Chaz lay limp in Beck’s arm, his head resting on Beck’s wide chest and his hands limp.

Glancing at her, Beck asked, “Do all kids fall asleep that fast? Or is it just…?”

Rachel let out a breath and touched a finger to Chaz’s leg. “It’s his condition. Do you want me to—? ”

“What did I say about that arm?” Beck shook his head, “And I want to hear more about what’s going on with him. Bed first for him.” He carried Chaz into the house and into his bedroom. Rachel grabbed Chaz’s stuffed dog—Chaz wanted a dog more than anything, but and if he’d been a healthy boy she would have gotten him a puppy.

But puppies grew up—and they could be rowdy and strong. Right now she couldn’t trust that Chaz wouldn’t be hurt. She tucked Chaz’s doggy into his arms and kissed his cheek. And she wondered if she was being too protective of him. But he was all she had right now. She couldn’t lose him.

Leaving the door open a crack, she headed back to the kitchen. But she found Beck out on the back porch. He gestured to a French door he’d left open. “That leads into Chaz’s room. You’ll hear if he wakes.” Beck waved to a rattan chair. Rachel sat down, her injured arm cradled in her lap. The sun felt good on her shoulders, but a chill caught at her insides. Beck looked grim—his face set and she wondered how he would react. Would he lose his temper as they talked?

She dove in and started to explain what she knew about the illness Chaz suffered. She had talked with the doctors, and had then done more research online.

“You can’t even imagine how much energy he has some days. Before he got sick, there were days I would pray for him to sleep just another half an hour. Now…” Throat tight, she broke off the words. She didn’t want to think about the endless tests, the slow way Chaz seemed to be fading. Rachel sighed. “Chaz has been so sick, and until I know he’s not going to get worse,” she broke off, and shook her head.”

Beck leaned forward. “What’s wrong with him? I thought you said it was curable?”

Rachel nodded. “It is. Most of the time. But nothing’s for certain. It’s a bone marrow disease—the blood cells—well, he doesn’t make enough of them. Usually it shows up in people in their teens or twenties, but it’s also usually caused by some infection, or drugs, or chemical exposure, like with radiation treatment for cancer. But it can be hereditary. And Chaz…he’s like a lot of other cases…the doctors just don’t know what caused it. He’s on immunosuppressive drugs right now—and that means even a cold could be bad for him. But that’s the first step to finding a marrow donor match. That would give his body the ability to make the blood cells he needs.”

Beck straightened. “Okay, so you need a donor. Mason, Bryant and I can head in today to get tested. And then we do the deal and he’s cured?”

Looking away, Rachel swallowed. Beck made it sound so easy. “Untreated, Chaz could die. Even treated…there’s about a seventy percent survival rate. The younger he is, the better his chances.”

Beck pushed out a loud breath and Rachel glanced at him. “Seventy…hell, Rachel, why didn’t you call me before this?”

She hugged herself. “I…Chaz’s diagnosis came in about a month ago. We…you wouldn’t believe all the testing. And the donation…that’s not going to be fun for anyone. They’ll probably take it from the back of your pelvic bone.” She rubbed her lower back. “They tested me first and I can still feel it at times.”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded. “You’ll be almost fully recovered in about three months or so, but it can take up to a year for all the side effects to go away, and that includes fatigue, pain, headaches, dizziness, and—”

“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “You’re telling me this could put me out for a year?”

Rachel pressed her lips tight. “A year of your life for all of Chaz—that didn’t sound so bad to me.”

“Rachel, I make my living with fighting. If I’m not fighting, I’m broke.”

She stood up and walked to the edge of the patio. When she turned, she found Beck standing next to her. Her pulse quickened. Silly that him just standing there could make her feel just as she once had—all shivery inside. “It doesn’t have to be you. You said Mason’s a trainer now—he could be a match. Or Bryant.”

Frowning, Beck shook his head. “My son. My problem. We’ll start with me. But…hell, a year off. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. And I still…dammit, Rachel, why didn’t you contact me after he was born? I…I’m still trying to figure that one out.” Rachel braced one hand on the iron of the patio railing. The sun beat down on her, hot now.

She wanted to scoot away, but there was no place to go. Beck leaned in closer. His shadow fell over her and his scent wrapped around her. “Come on, Rach. Answer me. Why didn’t you call me, or come see me with him before now? Were you really that scared of me?”

Rachel turned to face him. “You never met my dad. He was a great guy—sometimes. He’d take me to the park, buy me dolls, and then…I wish I could blame it on him drinking, but he didn’t drink. He just…just lost it at times. It was worse when he wasn’t working—he was a carpenter and work was seasonal, and when he wasn’t working.” She shivered. “He’d hit my mom…hit me.”

Beck’s hand curled tight around the railing. “Good thing I never met him.”

“Beck, you punched out a wall. That’s how it started with my dad. Walls first. Faces later. And every time he was sorry. He’d be so very sorry. And he’d buy me more dolls, and be so nice…until the next time. And the next time was always worse. And finally—my mom had enough. She left him. She figured out how to disappear so he wouldn’t find us.”

“Dammit, I knew she knew where you’d gone—she helped you disappear from me, didn’t she.”

Rachel lifted her chin. “We heard years later that my dad died of a heart attack. Fell right over during one of his rages. Do you have any idea what it was like growing up with that?  I swore…swore I’d never stay with a man like that. And I won’t have Chaz growing up with a guy who has those kinds of issues.”

Turning, Beck put both hands on the patio railing. He stared out at the Utah desert and mountains. Rachel turned as well.

He glanced at her. “I’m sorry for that. I know… I was out of control.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you get it—my dad was always sorry, too.”

“But he didn’t change. I get that, Rach. I know nothing I can say can take away the hurt I caused you. I just want you to understand that I reacted. I didn’t think. And I’m a different guy now.”

“Really? How do I know that’s true? How can I trust that, Beck? How can I trust you?”

Beck cupped her cheek. “You give me a second chance. It’s a risk, but what isn’t. You owe it to me—to Chaz to try—don’t you? Hell, you owe it to yourself, Rach.”

She stared at him, her heart quickening and her breath caught in her chest. Just being this close to him was tempting her. She wanted to lean even closer. She wanted to rest her head on Beck’s chest the way Chaz had. She wanted to close her eyes and have everything be okay again.

But she knew she had to face this with her eyes open. “I want to believe you, Beck. Really, I do. I just don’t know…my dad may have beaten the trust out of me, Beck. I’m not sure I can get past that. I don’t want you walking on eggshells for me—and I don’t want Chaz growing up in a house full of tension and uncertainty.”

Beck dropped his hand to hers and took her fingers in his. “Let’s focus on just making sure Chaz does grow up—and then we’ll deal with the rest.”