Not Your Hero Page 2

  2

  Courtney

  “HOLY COW.” I LEAN against the door and rest a hand on my rapidly beating heart. His bare chest is about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. All muscular and tan. And his eyes. Those amazing ice blue colored eyes actually looked concerned.

  “Hi, Court.”

  I shake my head out of the fog and smile at my friend, as well as one of my babysitters, Mona. She used to be a stripper at Club X. Lamest name for a strip club I’ve ever heard, but Tony, the owner, says ‘X marks the spot.’ Whatever that means.

  Mona graduated from college and quit stripping the day she got her degree. Now she’s a registered nurse and my closest friend.

  “Oh, no. What happened to you?” She rushes to my side and starts poking and prodding.

  I push her hands away. “Stop. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. What in the hell happened?” She wraps my arm around her shoulder and leads me to the couch. Gently setting me down, she lifts my leg and puts it on top of a pillow. “Hold that thought.” Rustling sounds from the kitchen, and a moment later, she’s back with a baggie of ice and my first aid kit.

  “Well? I thought Tony was hiring more security.”

  “He did.” I flinch when she applies pressure to my scraped cheek. “I was leaning on the table so some guy could get the shot glass from my cleavage, and when he leaned down, he grabbed my boobs. I tried to push him off, but the table tilted and I fell. Somehow, I twisted my ankle and cut my face.”

  “Oh, Court. Why do you let them do that? I hated being on the floor. The guys were worse than when you were dancing, thinking they could cop a feel all the time.”

  “Because. Every time I do, it’s fifty bucks.”

  She gives me a sympathetic smile and nods in understanding.

  “How was Ben?”

  “Good. He couldn’t stop talking about Sam. Says he’s the ‘coolest guy ever’.”

  “Shit.” Yeah, coolest and sexiest. I rub my temples. “Can you get me some Tylenol?”

  “Already did. Here.” She hands me the tablets, and I grab an old bottle of water from the coffee table to swallow them down.

  “He’s always over there. I know Sam’s just being nice, but it’s gotta get annoying after a while. Every time Ben runs to his garage, I go and tell him that he needs to leave Sam alone, but Sam always says, ‘He’s fine, Courtney,’ and waves me off.”

  “I’ve only met the guy a couple of times, but he seems like kind of an ass. A hot ass, but not one to beat around the bush.”

  “He’s not an ass.” He’s kind and sweet. He plays with Ben and he helps me. He is not an ass; he’s everything I want in a man.

  “All I’m saying is that if Sam didn’t want Ben over there, I don’t think he would let him stay.”

  “I guess.”

  We both yawn then laugh. “Do you want to crash here? Or are you gonna go home?”

  “I’ll go home.”

  I get up and hop to the door, using the wall for support.

  “What are you doing? Go put your leg back up.”

  “I need to lock the chain.”

  “How in the hell did you even get to the house?”

  “Oh, umm.” My body heats thinking about it. “Sam helped.”

  “What?” she yells. “Spill it, girlfriend.”

  “It’s not a big deal. He was walking his latest conquest to her car, and when he saw me struggling, he carried me up the stairs.” I shrug like it’s nothing, even though my body was on fire in his arms.

  “Not a big deal?” She stops at the door and rubs her hands together. “I bet he smelled good. I always imagine him smelling good.”

  Laughing at her antics, I nod. “Yeah, actually he did. Like, I don’t know . . . manly, I guess. Not like the fake cologne guys at the club wear. It was refreshing.”

  “Yummy. How did he carry you? Like bridal style? Or did he throw you over his shoulder?”

  “Bridal style,” I sigh.

  “Eek!” She claps her hands and jumps up and down.

  “Stop. As I said, it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Whatever you say, lady.” She rolls her eyes and turns the knob. “Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will. Thanks for watching him.”

  I shut and lock the door, hooking the chain as an extra precaution. On the way to bed, I grab the baggie of ice and limp my way to Ben’s room. I peek through the crack at my little boy. I wish I could spend more time with him, but I have to pay the bills, so I have to work . . . a lot.

  Finally making it to the sanctuary of my room, I get undressed and fall face first onto my memory foam mattress. The one and only splurge I bought for myself. Thoughts of being safe and secure in Sam’s arms lull me to sleep.

  * * *

  Annoying bird chirping wakes me from a restless night’s sleep. Sam has this huge line of trees in the middle of the yard, and as beautiful as it is, I’d like to chop them down so I wouldn’t be woken up so damn early.

  Rolling over, I look at my alarm clock and gasp when I see it’s 8:49. It’s Saturday, so Ben doesn’t have school, but he’s usually up by seven. I push off the bed and yelp when my foot hits the ground. I forgot about that.

  Gingerly, I walk to his room as quick as I can, excited that I get to wake him up this morning. He’s always coming into my room and jumping on my bed, so this will be fun. I can’t jump on his bed right now, but I can shake the crap out of it.

  When I get to his room, his door is open, and his bed empty. You know that moment before you feel like you’re going to vomit, when your stomach is in your throat? That’s what I feel like right now. Something is not right.

  “Ben! Ben!” I yell, running through the house. Millions of thoughts race through my mind and my heart is in my throat. Adrenaline makes the throbbing pain in my ankle a dull ache, and I collapse against the wall when I see a chair by the open front door. “Oh, my God.”

  I run to the porch and scream, “Benjamin!” Not even using the steps, I jump off and run around the house yelling for my son. When I turn the corner, Sam walks out of the garage.

  “Court-”

  “Ben!” I yell, “He’s missing!”

  Just then, Ben’s little blond head pokes around Sam’s leg. Relief floods my system, and I collapse on the ground, taking a few shuddering breaths so I don’t pass out. My hands shake as I wipe the tears from my eyes. Ben runs to me and lands in my lap, moisture in his eyes as well. “I’m sorry, Mommy.” He knows he messed up.

  I don’t have it in me to yell at him right now; all I know is my baby’s safe. I squeeze him tight to my chest and cry in respite.

  His small voice is hesitant. “I just wanted to play with Sam.”

  “Why don’t you go get your tools, buddy?”

  I look up at Sam, having forgotten he was still here. A pained expression crosses his face, and Ben nods at him before giving me a kiss and walking to the garage to grab his stuff.

  “Courtney, I’m sorry. He told me that you knew he was over here.”

  “It’s not y-your fault.” I can’t stop crying. That’s the worst feeling in the world—not knowing where your kid is. It tears you apart and makes you question your entire life in a split second. It’s downright terrifying.

  Ben comes back with his plastic toolbox, and Sam ruffles his hair. “Why don’t you go back to your house, buddy? Wait in your room for your mom to come talk to you, all right?”

  “Okay.” Ben hangs his head, and before he can walk away, Sam squats down so he’s eye level with him. “Don’t you ever leave your house again without your mother knowing where you are.”

  Ben nods and runs away, lip trembling from the sternness in Sam’s voice. I even hold my breath when the rumble passes through my ears. Not from fear, but from feeling, for a brief moment, that I have a partner in this, that I’m not alone.

  Sam stands and runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I feel like an asshole.”

  “It’s not your fault. He pushed a c
hair to the front door to undo the chain lock. He knows he’s not supposed to do that.” His back is to me and I stand, squeezing my eyes as pain lances through my leg. The adrenaline has worn off and my ankle throbs.

  I look down and my cheeks heat. I’m only wearing my boy shorts and a tank top. Sam turns and stills. His eyes rake down my body, and I bite my lip under his scrutiny. When they land back on my face, he steps closer and runs a finger down my cheek. I thought the way I felt in his arms last night was hot, but being the subject of his desire is like being in the middle of a fire. It’s been almost six years since a man has touched me outside of drunk idiots at the club. I lean into his hand, and he backs away, making me stumble on my bad foot.

  “Shit,” I swear and jump around until he steadies me with strong hands on my shoulders.

  Then he turns and walks away. Leaving me to limp back to my house alone.

  Sam

  I’m such a dick. I should know better than to believe a five-year-old kid. Especially when he was still wearing his pajamas. Courtney would never let him out of the house like that. What the fuck do I care? She’s just a tenant, and he’s her kid. That’s it.

  Damn, her body though. I’ve never seen a more perfect hourglass shape in my life. I want to rip that damn excuse for sleep attire off and throw her on the ground while I drill into her.

  Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t start caring about her. She’s just a woman. A gorgeous, fuckable woman who is off-limits. Whom I can’t touch. But I did, and her face is soft, so soft. She’s sweet and kind, and I’m the opposite of those things.

  I grab my keys off the hook in the garage and pull out of my driveway. It’s only nine in the morning, and I don’t know where I’m going. Just somewhere away from here.

  “Can I get a dozen of the red roses?”

  “Sure. You need a vase, too?” the perky teenager behind the counter asks.

  “Nope. Just the flowers.”

  “It’s forty even.”

  I hand her the cash in exchange for my flowers.

  When I arrive at the cemetery, I brush grass clippings and dirt off the nameplate then set the flowers on it.

  Stella Monroe, my mother.

  I was doomed from the start. She died while giving birth to me, and my dad liked to remind me often that I was a murderer. Needless to say, my childhood was not fun. Everyone on the outside thought it was great. My dad is rich; he’s a great defense attorney—the best, actually. So he knows how to lie. He put on a front that he was a grieving widower and a doting single father. People didn’t see the hookers coming in and out of the back door or the belt marks on my back.

  My mom’s parents knew my dad was an asshole and tried to get custody. It was laughable what he did to them in court. I read the transcripts after they died. He made them out to be senile and non-functioning elders, bringing in witnesses who fabricated stories about their cognizance while under oath.

  I barely knew them, though they sent me cards at every holiday. They asked how I was, what I liked, how school was going. I would write back and prayed one day they would come and get me.

  I sit in front of my mom’s grave and stare at her name. What would my life have been like if she’d made it? Would she have sheltered me from the cruelty of my dad? Had he always been such a bastard? Did he hit her, too?

  I don’t talk when I come here because I don’t know what to say. She birthed me, but she certainly didn’t look down on me from heaven. Not only did I have to live with his wrath, but I also had to deal with every single person in my life using me for one reason or another. Whether it was to get drugs, money, or sex. Yeah, I was a bad kid. It was the only way I could say ‘fuck you’ to my dad. And I learned pretty quick all those kids were even more selfish than me, only being a ‘friend’ when they needed something.

  Getting up, I dust off my jeans and remember the card in my pocket. I pull it out, and before I’m in my truck, I have the address of a very willing pussy. Fucking perfect.

  “Didn’t think you’d call so soon.” Lisa sits on her front porch and tosses her half-smoked cigarette in the bushes.

  “Me, neither.”

  “Bad day?” She tilts her head and puts her hands on her hips.

  “You could say that.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’m not a talker either, but I thought it was the right thing to do.” She shrugs and walks in the house, leaving the door open for me to follow.

  By the time I shut it and round the corner, she’s already naked, sitting on the armrest of her couch, waiting.

  3

  Courtney

  “THANKS, MONA. I REALLY appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, I love having him over. We’ll go to brunch then the noon movie tomorrow. I’ll bring him back after that.”

  “All right.” I squeeze her hand and hold my arms out for Ben. He runs over to the couch and gives me a hug. I don’t get to spend enough time with him as it is with work, and now this. Mother of the fucking year, can’t watch her kid because she hurt her ankle at the strip club. Whatever progress I made resting my foot last night was undone when I jumped off the porch this morning. Mona thinks it’s just sprained. Of course, the only way to know for sure is to get an x-ray, but I don’t have the money to pay my deductible.

  “I packed a microwavable mac-n-cheese for his supper.”

  “I got it. Rest, ice, and ibuprofen. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mona shouts.

  “Bye, Mommy!”

  “Bye, Ben. Love you.”

  “You, too.”

  I wipe a tear when Mona shuts the front door. Last night and this morning wreaked havoc on my emotions. I love my son, and I’ll do anything for him. That includes degrading myself to make enough money to put food on the table. A grocery store clerk job is not enough to support us.

  I question my decisions every day, but know that in the long run, this is my only option. And when I thought I lost him this morning? I would die without him. He’s my world. But I’m still so lonely.

  Even though it’s only five, I grab a bottle of wine and go to the front porch. Mona brought me crutches and using one helps me walk.

  The shared front porch is well maintained. Everything about Sam’s house is. He does a great job with all the upkeep. I really lucked out with him as a landlord. It doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous. And built. And sexy.

  Sighing, I sit on the porch swing, open the bottle, and take a drink. The effects of the alcohol swirl in my veins since I rarely drink. Deciding it’s been long enough, and with liquid courage, I pick up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh. Courtney. Hi.” Her voice isn’t any more disappointed than I imagined it would be. “How are you, dear? How’s Benjamin?”

  “We’re doing great. He started T-ball. He’s happy, I’m happy.” I lie about the last part.

  Silence rings through the line, and I hold my breath, waiting.

  “Do you have enough money? You could take him to court, you know?”

  Here we go. Since the moment I found out I was pregnant, Matt, Benjamin’s father, wanted nothing to do with him or me. He called me a whore and a slut. Said there’s no way it could be his since we used condoms and kicked me out of our apartment.

  I didn’t look back. Fuck. Him. If he didn’t want to be a part of our life, I wasn’t going to force him. My mother and father disagreed. We fight about it every time we talk. Which is why I only call her once a week. Luckily, she’s not clingy. So even though we live in the same city, I only see her once a month.

  “Yes, I know. But like I’ve said a thousand times—I don’t want anything from him.”

  “You could at least take his money. I understand that you don’t want to share custody, but Courtney, you could use it. Surely the grocery store isn’t paying you enough.”

  Yeah, she doesn’t know that I work at a titty bar. Still, I struggle. I could make more if I took the stage, but
I’m embarrassed enough about working as a waitress at X as it is.

  “Do we have to do this every time? We disagree. Just leave it at that, please.” I’m begging, but I don’t care. I’m sick of the fighting and arguing.

  “Fine. I have to go. Supper’s almost done and your dad should be home soon.”

  “All right. Give my love to Dad. Bye, Mom.” I hang up without waiting for a reply and toss my cell on the empty spot next to me.

  Clutching the wine and trembling, I bring the bottle to my lips for another drink. I may be a thirty-year-old woman, but not having the support of my parents eats me alive. We used to be close until they ganged up on me when I became pregnant, constantly questioning my decisions. So now, it’s just Ben and me. Alone.

  Time passes and the sun starts to set. The bottle is empty and I pull my robe tighter, lying on my back to rest my eyes.

  “Fuck.” A harsh whisper startles me, and I sit up. Except I forget I’m lying on a moving swing, and fall off, smacking my head on the wooden boards.

  “Shit. You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say. The last twenty-four hours couldn’t get any worse.

  Rubbing my temple, I push up to see Sam standing inches from me. He squats down, like he did this morning to talk to Ben, and moisture instantly pools between my legs when his fingers graze the bump.

  “Fuck, Courtney. I’m so damn sorry. I dropped my keys; I didn’t mean to scare you.” His mouth is tight and head tilted, assessing me.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.” I stand, and my ankle doesn’t hurt. “Hey. Look at that.” I grab onto his shoulder and move my foot in circles. “Wine really does make everything better!”

  Stumbling a little, I fall into him. His arm wraps around my waist to steady me. I don’t move away. Instead, I take another step closer, pressing my body into his. He’s so warm. And even through all his hard muscle, somehow he’s soft, like a giant, muscled teddy bear.

  “Courtney.” I can feel him poking my stomach.

  Tilting my head, our eyes connect, and I put my finger over his mouth. “Shh.”

  I’m drunk. But I don’t care. I want to feel wanted. Even for the night. Grabbing his t-shirt, I push up and press my lips to his. He hesitates and steps back.