“Fuck no!” Nash answered rather quickly.
“Hey, easy there,” Luke laughed. “You could do a lot worse than me.”
“We’re not going there.”
Luke turned to Fallon and said, “We are going to therapy because your boy Nash here used to be in the army, and during one of his tours…”
“Dude!” Nash shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Keep your mouth shut.”
Nash didn’t tell anyone about his leg, and he wasn’t about to tell Fallon. The last thing he needed was for Fallon to hear about his leg.
“Ooo, dish it. What happened?” Fallon asked, rubbing her hands together, anticipating a dark secret.
“Not going to happen. Take me home, Luke.”
“Sorry, dude. We’re going to therapy. Remember what I said earlier?”
Like Nash would forget.
Sighing, he buckled up and stared out the window as Luke drove to the therapist, Fallon chatting away the entire drive there.
**Luke**
“I think that’s where my aversion to pink comes from,” Fallon finished her story about an octopus and an under the sea dance she attended.
She sat between Luke and Nash, her legs crossed and totally engrossed in the therapy session that was being conducted. Nash tried his best to shake her, to get her to leave, but it was no use, she was glued to his side.
It was rather comical for Luke to watch. Seeing Nash squirm was a treat, something he wouldn’t mind seeing more often.
“That is a great observation, Fallon,” Dr. Drake said, showing a little irritation with her constant talking. “Nash, tell me what you think about the color pink.”
Nash rolled his eyes and said, “I think it’s stupid.”
“You seem to think everything is stupid,” Dr. Drake pointed out, referring to the countless times Nash had said something was stupid during their session, which was pretty much every time he opened his mouth.
“That’s because it is.”
“Don’t worry about him, Doc. He’s still mad about me faking the whole accident.”
“What accident?”
Fallon giggled and said, “I pretended to get hit by their car on the way here. You should have seen the looks on their faces. You would think they actually cared about me, especially this lug over here.” Fallon elbowed Nash.
“That seems like it would have been scary; I can sense where irritation might come in. Tell me Nash, do you care for Fallon?”
Luke knew the response he was going to say, and he was ready to call him out on his bullshit.
“No, could care less if she got hit by a car.”
“He’s lying,” Luke said quickly, so Fallon’s feelings weren’t hurt.
“No, I’m not,” Nash sat up to eye Luke from over Fallon, who was quiet now.
“Yes, you are.” Luke turned to Dr. Drake and said, “I talked to him earlier on the phone about how he was upset over Fallon not calling him.”
“Christ,” Nash shook his head and leaned back against the couch.
“Are you two an item?” Dr. Drake asked, confused by the dynamic.
“You were upset?” Fallon asked, bouncing in her seat and tugging on Nash’s arm.
“No, we are not, and no I was not upset. I was just, curious. It’s not very often a girl doesn’t call me back.”
Luke snorted, Nash could be such a tool at times. He had known him for a long time and, yes, he was a ladies’ man, but he never gave away his phone number, so once again, he was lying.
“I can tell by the way your nostrils flared that you’re lying. Aw, you were upset about me not calling. Waiting by the phone there, big guy? Some long lonely nights?”
“Yes!” Nash shouted.
“Yes what?” Fallon asked, just as Dr. Drake asked, “Are you lonely, Nash?”
“I’m done,” Nash said, getting up from his seat, trying hard to not show the limp in his leg, but Luke knew better.
“Nash, please stay,” Dr. Drake asked, but Nash didn’t listen. Instead, he took off, slamming the door behind him.
“That didn’t go as well as I hoped,” Luke admitted.
“I probably didn’t help,” Fallon added.
“I would like to see him again. Do you think you could get him to come to another session?”
“I don’t know,” Luke answered. “It was pretty hard getting him to this one. He is a tough one to crack. He’s had a rough time accepting his loss.”
“His loss?” Fallon asked, confused.
Luke knew it wasn’t his place to tell Nash’s story, so he kept quiet.
“You’ll have to ask him, Fallon. I don’t want to tell his story. Keep in mind, though, when you do talk to him, he’s closed off for a reason and having a hard time comprehending the hand he was dealt.”
Fallon nodded and then took off toward the door where Nash had exited, without even saying goodbye.
“Well, that was one of the more interesting sessions I’ve ever conducted,” Dr. Drake confessed.
Luke nodded his head, wondering if he should go after Nash.
Dr. Drake must have read his mind because he said, “Let her talk to him. It seems like she has some kind of effect on him.”
“I think you’re right,” Luke responded, knowing Fallon very much affected Nash, and he had no clue how to deal with his feelings.
**Nash**
“How the fuck does this stupid app work?” Nash muttered to himself, trying to find himself an Uber ride back to his place, so he wouldn’t have to ride with Luke.
That therapy session was probably one of the worst he had been forced to take part in. Not only did he feel uncomfortable talking around Fallon, but he had admitted to being lonely. What kind of pussy-ass man admitted to being lonely? A loser kind of one, that was for damn sure.
Nash was disgusted with himself. He didn’t talk about feelings, he didn’t express his emotions, but back there, Fallon got the best of him and he told her what he was thinking, how he so desperately wanted her to talk to him because, for once, he didn’t feel so alone when she was around.
Fuck!
“Need help?” Fallon called from behind him.
“No,” Nash answered gruffly, not wanting to make eye contact.
But Fallon had other plans. She grabbed his arm and turned him around so he had to face her. Her large T-shirt was gone, and underneath was a thin white tank top, showing off her impeccable body. Minus the shirt, she actually looked, not just pretty, but beautiful.
“What do you want?” Nash asked, exasperated.
She held up her shirt and said, “Do you know why I wear baggy clothes that are less than flattering?”
“I don’t know, because you’re weird?” Nash answered, looking to the sky for answers.
“No.” She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “It’s because I was sexually abused when I was a kid before I was adopted. It’s been a coping mechanism. I make myself less attractive so men don’t want anything to do with me. I like to pick and choose who I talk to once I get to know them a little better.”
“Then why is your shirt off now?” Nash asked, nodding toward the wadded up garment in her hand.
“Because, I want to know you. I want you to know me. I’m taking down my shield, why don’t you take yours down too?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Nash lied, standing taller, putting on a fake façade.
“Then why do you limp?” Fallon asked, looking him dead in the eyes.
Lying was a funny thing, to pass it off as a truth, you had to have confidence in your answer. You had to look someone in the eyes and believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Nash knew Fallon was looking for any kind of tell that he was lying. He prepared the lie in his head, but the moment the words slipped from his mouth, his eyes turned away from hers, not being able to be honest to her beautiful green eyes.
“I don’t.”
She forced him to look at her again.
“Fine, don??
?t tell me the truth now. I can see it’s a sensitive topic for you. I still want to get to know you. Do you have plans this Saturday?”
“I do,” he lied once more, not wanting her to get close to him; she knew too much. She was too perceptive.
“No, you don’t.” She smiled. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“I won’t be there.”
“Yes, you will, because just like me, you don’t want to be alone. See you Saturday, Nash.”
She squeezed his arm and then took off down the street, putting her baggy shirt back on. She skipped across the street and waved at him.
For the life of him, he couldn’t think of why she dug under his skin, why he let her get to him so much, but she did.
And he would be damned if he missed their date on Saturday. She was right; he didn’t want to be alone.
Chapter 9
**Connor**
Austin came bursting through the bedroom door, hair standing on end, sweats twisted to the side, and wrinkles from his blanket scattered across his chest.
“What the fuck are you doing to that baby? Twisting its leg off?” Austin yelled over Leonard’s cries.
“He won’t stop crying,” Connor said in a panic, holding a bottle of baby powder in one hand and a bottle of formula in the other, with Leonard lying on the changing table, wailing.
“No shit. He’s been screaming for the past fifteen minutes. Are you doing the ‘Five S’s’?”
Connor and Austin were forced to go to a newborn class together—Thank you Dr. Cuevas—and Austin was always throwing the Five S’s in Connor’s face; swaddle, side, suck, swing, and shush.
Neither one of them were good at swaddling, no matter how much they practiced, and the shushing, that got on Connor’s nerves…usually in a matter of seconds.
“Of course I’m doing the Five S’s,” Connor yelled back.
“Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re trying to juggle ass cream while giving yourself a bottle. Step aside,” Austin replied, standing in front of Leonard and assessing the situation. “Did he take a shit?”
“Does it smell like he took a shit?” Connor shot back.
Austin sniffed the air and shook his head, no. “For once the kid keeps it in the ass ring. So what’s the problem? Did you try feeding him?”
“Of course I did. He’s not hungry.”
“Maybe he peed,” Austin stated, looking down at Leonard.
“You think I didn’t check that?” Connor replied, annoyed and starting to lose his mind from Leonard’s wailing.
“When was the last time you checked?”
“When I got up to check on him.”
“He needs to be wrapped up. Kids like that. Remember the Five S’s,” Austin yelled.
“By all means, swaddle him.” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, interested to see Austin attempt a swaddle. Last time he tried to swaddle Leonard, it looked like a baby stuck in a wadded up pile of used napkins.
“Watch me,” Austin replied, determination searing through him.
Connor watched Austin grab a blanket from under the table and place it on the table next to Leonard. Next, he grabbed the baby’s onesie and took it all the way off.
“What are you doing?”
“Babies like being naked.”
“No, they don’t,” Connor retorted.
“Yes, they do,” Austin shot back. “Think about it, moron. They like to emulate a womb environment. Do you think the kid was floating around in Lucy wearing a stupid onesie with a smiling whale on the front of it? No, the dude was naked. We have to get him naked.”
“That is idiotic.”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” Austin tapped his head with his finger.
Connor was the least bit jealous as Austin took off Leonard’s onesie and diaper, stripping the baby bare. Placing him on the blanket, Austin grabbed the corners and started to tie them together. Connor stopped him immediately.
“There was no tying involved in the swaddling portion of our class.”
“Duh, but the blankets are always tied when they’re hanging from the stork’s mouth, and that damn baby isn’t crying.”
“Are you fucking delusional?” Connor asked, exasperated. “This isn’t some nursery rhyme, you dipshit. This is a real life baby.”
“Oh, really? Because I thought the shrill crying coming from the piece of flesh on the table was a squirrel.”
“Your humor isn’t helping.”
“Thanks for pointing that out…Mom!” Austin untied the blanket and grabbed a pacifier, trying to coax it into Leonard’s mouth, but he refused it, just like when Connor had attempted the same noise stopper.
“Tried that too,” Connor pointed out.
Austin whipped around and stared Connor down. “Just because you tried it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it again. You might have done it wrong.”
“How can you stick a rubber thing in a baby’s mouth wrong?”
“Did you wiggle it?”
“Of course I fucking wiggled it. Have you forgotten how I take care of this kid more than you?”
Connor had been thinking it, but had yet to mention the fact that Austin was a barely-there parent. He told himself he wouldn’t get frustrated with the situation, but right now, with Leonard screaming his head off, Connor was at his tipping point. Something had to give, and it looked like his lips got a little loose from frustration.
“Wow, sorry that I have a real fucking job and can’t sit at home all day playing nursery.”
“I wouldn’t call your job a real one, given the fact that you play with balls all day, and I wouldn’t call my days at home with Leonard playing nursery. You have yet to clean up one of his shits. You have no clue what it’s like.”
“Well, if they’re anything like mine, then I have a pretty good idea,” Austin said with a smirk.
“Not something to be proud of, dude.”
“Says the tight wad who can’t loosen up. You could use an explosive shit, clear out the fucking stick that’s stuck up there.” Austin turned back to Leonard and grabbed the edges of the blanket, trying to figure out how to swaddle him. Connor watched in frustration as he did it all wrong.
“Don’t you remember anything?” Connor asked, stepping next to Austin and pulling on the blanket.
“I got this!” Austin pulled back on the blanket.
“You clearly don’t!” Connor shot back.
“Give it to me.”
“No!”
Connor and Austin fought for the blanket, Leonard carefully rolling side to side from their pulling. Shoulders bumped, forearms flexed, and grunts were made, as they each tried to claim the title of swaddler.
“Stop,” Connor said, shoving Austin.
“Never!”
Grrrrrrrraaaaaaaarrrrrrrr…
Austin and Connor both stopped their pursuit of the blanket and looked down at Leonard, whose face was bright red.
“What was that sound?” Austin asked, examining his son.
“I wouldn’t get too close…” Connor barely got the words out before Leonard laid a def-con one crap on them.
Explosive baby diarrhea shot from Leonard onto Connor and Austin, dousing them in putrid smelling excrement.
“Holy fuck!” Austin screamed, dancing in a circle and flinging his arms about, flicking poop all over the walls.
“Stop moving,” Connor reprimanded. “You’re making it worse.”
“How can this get worse? I have shit all over me. There is no way in hell this could get worse.”
Just as Austin said that, a stream of urine came out of Leonard, hitting Austin right in the head.
Instead of freaking out, Austin stood there, deflated, head down, accepting his new life.
Connor sat back, a smile on his face from seeing Austin brought down a peg or two by their son. “You look like a fucking toilet bowl right now.”
Austin held up his hand to stop Connor from speaking and then pointed at a silent and c
ontent Leonard. “Little fucker had gas. How come we weren’t taught that in class?”
“Because the lady teaching the class was a sadistic bitch and probably wanted this to happen.”
“Well, that hamster is getting a bad review from me in the morning.” Austin grabbed the baby wipes and tossed a pack at Connor. “Better start cleaning up, because it looks like Leonard is ready to go to sleep.”
“How nice for him,” Connor answered sarcastically.
Together, they cleaned up the explosive gift Leonard gave the both of them, all the while chuckling over how much shit could really come out of a little baby. It wasn’t Connor’s best night, but in a weird way, it brought him and Austin a little closer together.
**Brady**
Leaving Jane the other night wasn’t easy, but he felt he had made a little bit of progress in his attempt to get her back. She kept saying he deserved better, was she crazy? Brady couldn’t imagine sharing a life with anyone else; how could she not understand that?
The moment Brady danced with Jane on the dance floor at Deuces, he knew he was lost forever. They had been through a lot, car accidents, crazy ex-girlfriends, and loss of friends; their bond was strong during those difficult times, but now, now she wanted nothing to do with him when he needed her the most.
“Matthews, looking good out there,” Deek called out as he walked past him in the locker room. “Glad to see your personal life isn’t affecting your play.”
Brady knew his comment wasn’t supposed to be rude, given the fact that Deek gave Brady a freebie when Jane broke up with him. Ever since then, Brady had made it his mission to not let his personal life appear on the field.
It was a hard task, especially since he lost his daughter. But he channeled that negative energy into training, trying to make his daughter proud, because he knew she was watching over him from up above.
“Thanks, Coach,” Brady said, adjusting his towel on his waist.